A Brief Memoir with Portions of the Diary, Letters, and Other Remains, of Eliza Southall, Late of Birmingham, England.
by Eliza Southall.
INTRODUCTION
The first edition of this volume appeared in England in 1855, where it was printed for private circulation only. Many expressions of the interest that has been felt in its perusal, and of the value that has been attached to the record it contains, have reached the editor and the family of the departed. Several applications to allow its publication in America have also been received; and, after serious consideration, the editor feels that he ought not to withhold his consent.
In order that it may be more interesting and worthy of the largely-extended circulation that it is now likely to obtain, additions have been made, and particulars inserted, which a greater lapse of time from the occurrence of the events narrated, seems now to permit. A slight thread of biographical notice has also been introduced.
But it is not to this part, which merely serves to render the volume more complete, by enabling the reader to understand the circumstances by which the writer of the Diary was surrounded, but to the Diary itself, that the editor desires to commend attention, believing that those who enjoy to trace the operations and effects of Divine grace on the heart will find much that is interesting and valuable therein, and that the young may reap instruction and encouragement from the spiritual history of one who early and earnestly sought the Lord.
WILLIAM SOUTHALL, JR.
EDGBASTON, BIRMINGHAM, 2d mo. 12th, 1861.
BRIEF MEMOIR
OF
ELIZA SOUTHALL.
Eliza Southall, wife of William Southall, Jr., of Birmingham, England, and daughter of John and Eliza Allen, was born at Liskeard, on the 9th of 6th month, 1823.
As she felt a strong attachment to the scenes of her childhood, and an interest in the people among whom she spent the greater part of her short life,--an attachment which is evinced many times in the course of her memoranda,--it may interest the American reader to know that Liskeard is an ancient but small town in Cornwall. The country around is broken up into hill and dale, sloping down to the sea a few miles distant, the rocky shores of which are dotted with fishing-villages; in an opposite direction it swells into granite hills, in which are numerous mines of copper and lead. There is a good deal of intelligence, and also of religious feeling, to be met with among both the miners and fishermen, Cornwall having been the scene of a great revival in religion in the time of John Wesley, the effects of which have not been suffered to pass away. A meeting of Friends has been held at Liskeard from an early period in the history of the Society; but, as in many other country places in England, the numbers seem gradually to diminish, various attractions drawing the members to the larger towns. Launceston Castle, so well known in connection with the sufferings of George Fox, is a few miles distant.
The family-circle, until broken a few years before her own marriage by that of an elder sister, consisted, in addition to her parents, of five daughters, two of whom were older and two younger than Eliza. Her father was long known and deservedly esteemed by Friends in England, and her mother is an approved minister. John Allen was a man of sound judgment and of liberal and enlightened views, ever desirous of upholding the truth, but at the same time ready to listen to the arguments of those who might differ from him in opinion. Moderate and cautious in counsel and conduct, firm, yet a peacemaker, he was truly a father in the Church. For many years he took an active part in the deliberations of the Yearly Meeting, and was often employed in services connected with the Society. He was known to many Friends on the American continent, from having visited that country in 1845 by appointment of the London Yearly Meeting. He was the author of a work entitled "State Churches and the Kingdom of Christ," and of several pamphlets on religious subjects. He died in 1859.
John Allen retired from business at an early age; and a prominent reason for his doing so was that he might devote himself more fully to the education of his daughters, which was conducted almost entirely at home. Having a decided taste for the ancient classics, he considered that so good a foundation of a sound education ought not to be neglected. The same might be said of the older history and literature of his own country, including its poetry, in which he was well read; but he fully encouraged his pupils to become acquainted also with the better productions of the day, to the tone of which their younger minds were more easily adapted. Nor was education confined to direct instruction in the school-room. In a little memoir of John Allen, published in the "Annual Monitor," we read, "In the domestic circle, the tender, watchful care and sympathy of the parent were blended with the constant stimulus to self-improvement of the teacher; and the readiness to sacrifice personal ease and convenience, in order that he might enter into the pursuits and amusements of his children, was united with an unremitting endeavor to maintain a high standard of moral and religious feeling. Thus by example as well as by precept did he evince his deep concern for their best welfare. As years passed on, his cordial sympathy with their interests, and his anxiety as far as possible to share his own with them, gave an additional power to his influence, not easily estimated." Such were the simple and natural means of education employed. The aim was true enlargement of mind; and the desire was carefully instilled that the knowledge acquired should be valued for its own sake, not as a possession to be used for display. At the same time, care was taken not to destroy the balance between the intellect and the affections, so that, whilst the growth of the mental powers was encouraged, domestic and social duties should not suffer, and habits of self-reliance should be formed. From earliest childhood the great principles of Christianity were instilled into the opening minds of the children; and when the reflective powers had come into operation, their reasonings were watched and guided into safe paths. In this object, as in all the pursuits of her children, was the loving influence of a watchful mother gently felt. Thus by the united love and example of the parents were the affections of the children directed to a risen Saviour; and it is the aim of this volume to show, principally from records penned by her own hand, how one beloved daughter grew in grace and in the knowledge of the Lord, until it pleased Him to take her to Himself.
Eliza Southall possessed a mind of no common order; and hers was a character in which simplicity and strength, originality and refinement, were beautifully blended: diffident and retiring, she was best appreciated where she was known most intimately.
In very early life she manifested an unusual degree of mental power.
When quite a little child, her earnest pursuit of knowledge was remarkable: she delighted in her lessons, and chose for her own reading a class of books far beyond the common taste of children.
Her ardent, impulsive nature was, to a beautiful degree, tempered and softened by a depth of tenderness and intensity of feeling, together with a warmth of affection, which bound her very closely in sympathy, even as a child, with those around her.
These sweet traits of natural character were so early blended with the unmistakable evidences of the fruit of divine grace in her heart, that it would be difficult to point to any time in her earliest childhood when there was not an earnest strife against evil, some sweet proof of the power of overcoming grace, and some manifestation of love to her Saviour.
Her own words sweetly describe her feelings in recalling this period:--"When I look back to the years of my early childhood, I cannot remember the time when the Lord did not strive with me; neither can I remember any precise time of my first covenant. It was the gentle drawing of the cords of his love; it was the sweet impress of his hand; it was the breathing in silence of a wind that bloweth where it listeth."
The following instances of the serious thoughtfulness of her early childhood are fresh in her mother's recollection. On one of her sisters first going to meeting, Eliza, who was younger, much wished to accompany her; saying, "I know, mamma, that R---- and I can have meetings at home; but I do want to go." Being told that her going must depend upon her sister's behavior, Eliza ran to her, and putting her arms round her neck, said, most earnestly, "Do, dear R----, be a good girl and behave well." The dear child's desire to attend meeting was soon gratified; and that morning she selected, to commit to memory, Jane Taylor's appropriate hymn on attending public worship, especially noticing the stanza--
"The triflers, too, His eye can see, Who only _seem_ to take a part; They move the lip, and bend the knee, But do not seek Him with the heart,"--
saying, earnestly, "Oh, I hope I shall not be like those!"
At another time, whilst amusing herself with her toys, she asked, "Mamma, what is it that makes me feel _so sorry_ when I have done wrong? _Directly_, mamma: what is it?" On her mother's explaining that it was the Holy Spirit put into her heart by her heavenly Father, she replied, "But how very whispering it is, mamma! Nobody else can hear it." "Yes, my dear," said her mother; "and thou mayst sometimes hear it compared to a 'still small voice, and then thou wilt know what is meant." She answered, "Yes, mamma," and then continued to amuse herself as before.
The first remembrance of Eliza retained by one of her younger sisters is that of sitting opposite to her in the nursery-window while she endeavored, in a simple manner, to explain to her the source and object of her being. To the same sister she afterwards addressed some affectionate lines of infantile poetry urging the same subject, commencing,--
"Look, precious child, to Jesus Christ."
The missionary spirit which filled her young heart was also evinced by her desire to possess a donkey, that she might distribute Bibles in the country places round about; and this was afterwards spoken of as the ambition of her childhood.
Together with the cheerful sweetness of her disposition, there was an unusual pensiveness, a tender care for others, which was most endearing, and often touching to witness. One day, perceiving her mother much affected on receiving intelligence of the decease of a valued friend and minister at a distance from home, Eliza evinced her sympathy by laying on the table before her some beautiful lines on the death of Howard. On her mother asking if she thought the cases similar, she said, "Not quite, mamma: J---- T---- was not without friends."
So earnest was her anxiety for the good of herself and her sisters, that, when any thing wrong had been done, her feelings of distress seemed equally excited, whether for their sakes or her own. After any little trouble of this sort, her mother often observed her retire alone, and, when she returned to the family-group, a beaming expression on her countenance would show where she had laid her sorrows. Sometimes in her play-hours she would endeavor to prepare her two younger sisters for the lessons which they would receive from their father, and, when the time came for her to join in giving them regular instruction, she entered into it with zest and interest.
Many hours were spent during the summer in the little plots of ground allotted to herself and sisters out of a small plantation skirting a meadow near the house, and many others in reading under the old elm-trees which cast their shade over the garden-walk.
The spare moments during her domestic occupations which she was anxious not to neglect were often beguiled by learning pieces of poetry, a book being generally open at her side while thus employed.
Earnestness of purpose and unwearied energy were characteristics of her mind. Whatever she undertook was done thoroughly and with an untiring industry, which often claimed the watchful care of her parents from the fear lest she should overtax her strength. It was evidently difficult to her to avoid an unsuitable strain on her physical powers, whatever might be the nature of her pursuit,--whether her own private reading or other intellectual occupation. At one period her time and energies were closely occupied for some months in the formation of very elaborate charts, by which she endeavored to impress historical and scientific subjects on her mind. The collection and examination of objects illustrating the different branches of natural history was also a very favorite pursuit, in which she delighted to join her sisters. But the reader will best understand how completely any pursuit in which she became deeply interested took hold upon her, from her own account of her experiences respecting poetry.
While deeply feeling her responsibility for the right use of all the talents intrusted to her care, and earnestly engaged in their cultivation, she was equally conscious of the claims of social duty, and as solicitous to fulfil them, seeking in every way to contribute to the happiness of those around her, whether among the poor or among the friends and relatives of her own circle.
Her journal, while it exhibits an intense earnestness in analyzing the state of her own mind, and perhaps rather too much proneness to dwell morbidly upon it, also evinces the tender joy and peace with which she was often blessed by the manifested presence of her Lord. It unfolds an advancement in Christian experience to which her conduct bore living testimony, and proves that in humble reliance on the hope set before her in the gospel, with growing distrust of herself, her faith increased in God her Saviour, and through his grace she was enabled to maintain the struggle with her soul's enemies, following on to know the Lord.
Thus it was, as she sought preparation for a more enlarged sphere of usefulness on earth, her spirit ripened for the perfect service of heaven; and six weeks after she left her father's house a bride, the summons was received to join that countless multitude who "have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb; therefore are they before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple."
DIARY.
The diary which was kept by the beloved object of this memoir, and the extracts from which form the principal part of this volume, is contained in several volumes of closely-written manuscript, and, taken as a whole, is a most interesting record of mental and spiritual growth. At times it was continued with almost daily regularity, but at others, either from the pressure of occupations or from various causes, considerable intervals occur in which nothing was written.
It has been the endeavor of the editor to make such selections as may preserve a faithful picture of the whole. There is almost of necessity a certain amount of repetition, as in seasons of depression, when faith and hope seemed to be much obscured, or, on the other hand, when cheerful thankfulness and joy of heart were her portion; and in such places it did not seem right to curtail her words too much. Many entries referred too closely to personal and family matters to be suitable for publication, and the uneventful character of her life does not leave room to supply in their stead much in the way of narrative; but it will be remembered that it is the heavenward journey that it is desired to trace, not simply _towards_ the land "very far off," but that pilgrimage _during which_, though on earth, the believer in Jesus is at times privileged to partake of the joys of heaven.
The first volume of the series is entitled, by its author, "Mementos of Mercy to the Chief of Sinners." Some lines written on her fourteenth birthday--about the period, of its commencement--may appropriately introduce the extracts.
_6th Mo. 9th_, 1837.--
Can it be true that one more link In that mysterious chain, Which joins the two eternities, I shall not see again?
Eternity! that awful thing Thought tries in vain to scan; How far beyond the loftiest powers Of little, finite man!
E'en daring fancy's fearless flight In vain would grasp the whole, And then, "How short man's mortal life!"
Exclaims the wondering soul.
A bubble on the ocean's breast, A glow-worm's feeble ray, That loses all its brilliancy Beneath the orb of day.
Can it be joyful, then, to find That life is hastening fast?
Can it be joyful to reflect, This year may be our last?