SOME ACCOUNT
OF
THE LIFE
OF
ELIZABETH ASHBRIDGE
Written by Herself
Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much. Luke 7:47
A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump. Gal. 5:9.
EDITED AND COMPILED FOR FRIENDS' LIBRARY
1846
Revised and Printed
by
FRIENDS OF JESUS CHRIST
168 Croswell Road
Farmington Falls, Maine 04940
2002
M y life having been attended with many uncommon occurrences, I have thought proper to make some remarks on the dealings of Divine goodness with me. I have often had cause, with David, to say, “It is good for me that I have been afflicted.” I most earnestly desire that they who read the following lines may take warning and shun the evils into which I have been drawn.
I was born at Middlewich in Cheshire in the year 1713 of honest parents, named Thomas and Mary Sampson. My father bore a good character, but he was not so strictly religious as my mother who was a pattern of virtue to me. I was my father's only child, but my mother had a son and a daughter by a former husband.
Soon after I was born, my father went to sea, and following his profession, which was that of a surgeon, made many long voyages. He continued in his sea-faring course of life till I was twelve years old, so that the care of the early part of my education devolved upon my mother and she discharged her duty in endeavoring to imbue my mind with the principles of virtue. I have had reason to be thankful that I was blessed with such a parent. Her good advice and counsel to me have been as bread cast upon the waters. She was an instructive example to all who knew her and generally beloved.
But, alas! as soon as the time came when she might reasonably expect the benefit from her labors and have had comfort in me, I deserted her. In my childhood I had an awful regard for religion and religious people, particularly for ministers, all of whom I believed to be good men and beloved of God, which I earnestly wished to be my own case. I had also great tenderness for the poor, remembering that I had read that they were beloved of the Lord. This I supposed to mean such as were poor in temporal things, whom I often visited in their cottages and used to think that they were better off than myself. Yet, if I had money or any thing suitable for a gift, I bestowed it on them, recollecting that they who gave to such, lent unto the Lord. I made remarks on those who pretended to religion, and when I heard people swear, I was troubled, for my mother told me that if I used any naughty words, God would not love me.
I observed that there were several different religious societies. This I often thought of and wept, with desires that I might be directed to the one which it would be best for me to join. In this frame of mind I passed my younger years. I was sometimes guilty of the faults common among children, but I was always sorry for what I had done amiss. And until I was fourteen years of age, I was as innocent as most children.
About this time my sorrows, which have continued for the greatest part of my life, began by my giving way to a foolish passion in setting my affections on a young man, who without the leave of my parents courted me till I consented to marry him. And with sorrow of heart I relate that I suffered myself to be carried off in the night. We were married. My parents made all possible search for me as soon as I was missing, but it was in vain.
This precipitate act plunged me into much sorrow. I was soon smitten with remorse for thus leaving my parents whose right it was to be consulted on such an occasion. But I was soon chastised for my disobedience and convinced of my error. In five months I was stripped of the darling of my heart and left a young and disconsolate widow. I was now without a home. My husband had derived his livelihood from his trade, which was that of a stocking weaver, and my father was so displeased at my conduct that he would do nothing for me. My dear mother had some compassion for me and kept me among the neighbors. Afterwards, by her advice, I went to a relation of hers at Dublin. We hoped that my absence would soften my father's rigor, but he continued inflexible. He would not send for me back, and I dared not to return unless he did.
The relation I went to reside with was one of the people called Quakers. His habits were so very different from what I had been accustomed to that the visit proved disagreeable to me. I had been brought up in the way of the Church of England, and though, as I have said, I had a religious education, yet I was allowed to sing and dance, which my cousin would not permit. The great vivacity of my natural disposition would not, in this instance, suffer me to give way to the gloomy sense of sorrow and conviction, and therefore my present restraints had a wrong effect. I became more wild and airy than ever. My cousin often reproved me, but I then thought his conduct was the result of singularity and would not be controlled. Having a distant relation in the West of Ireland, I went to him. I now enjoyed all the liberty I wished, for what rendered me disagreeable to my other kinsman was quite pleasing to this. Between these two relations I spent three years and three months.
While I was in Ireland, I contracted an intimate acquaintance with a widow and her daughter who were papists. We conversed very frequently about religion, each of us defending our peculiar tenets. And though I was much given to gaiety, our discussions often made me thoughtful. The old woman told me of such mighty miracles done by their priests that I began to be shaken in my own belief and thought that, if these things were so, they must, of a truth, be the apostles' successors. She perceived the state of my mind, and one day exclaimed with rapture, “Oh! if I can, under God, be the happy instrument of converting you to the holy Catholic faith, all the sins that ever I committed will be forgiven."
Sometimes I frequented her place of worship, but none of my relations knew what was the motive. The affair went so far that the priest came to converse with me. Being young and my judgment weak, I was ready to believe what he said. Yet I resolved not blindly to adopt their creed. I thought that if their articles of faith were sound, they would not be against my knowing them. Therefore, the next time I saw the priest, I told him that I had some intention of becoming one of his flock, but wished first to know what I must agree to. He answered that I must first confess my sins to him and gave me till the next day to consider of them. I was not averse to this, conscious of having done nothing for which any one could harm me and thinking that if what he had said was true, the confession would be for my good.
When he came again I told all that I could remember; which, for my part, I thought bad enough. But he considered me, he said, the most innocent creature that ever made confession to him. When I had done, he took a book, which he read, and told me that I was to swear I believed, if joined them. I shall not trouble my reader with the recital of its ridiculous contents. What principally made me sick of my new intention was that I was to swear I considered the Pretender to be king James's son and the true heir of the crown of England and that all who died out of the pale of the popish church would be damned. These doctrines startled me. I hesitated and desired time to take them into consideration. But before I saw the priest again, a change of circumstances freed me from the necessity of giving him an answer.
My father still keeping me at such a distance, I thought myself quite excluded from his affections, and therefore resolved not to return home. I became acquainted with a gentlewoman lately arrived from Pennsylvania who was intending to return, and as I had an uncle, my mother's brother, in this province, I soon agreed with her for my passage. I was ignorant of the nature of an indenture and suffered myself to be bound. This was done privately, that it might not be found out. As soon as it was over, she invited me to see the vessel in which I was to sail. I readily consented, and we went on board, where there was another young woman who, as I afterwards found, was of a respectable family and had been brought there in the same way as myself. I was pleased with the thought that I should have such an agreeable companion in my voyage.
While we were busy conversing, my conductor went on shore, and when I wished to go, I was not permitted. I now saw I was kidnaped. I was kept a prisoner in the ship three weeks, at the end of which time my companion was found out by her friends, who fetched her away, and by her information, my friends sent the water-bailiff, who took me on shore. I was kept close for two weeks, but at length found means to get away. I was so filled with the thoughts of going to America that I could not give up the design. Meeting the captain I inquired when he sailed. He told me, and I went on board.
There were in the ship sixty Irish servants and several English passengers. The latter were unacquainted with the Irish language which I had taken much pains to learn and understood pretty well. Twenty of the servants belonged to the gentlewoman above-mentioned, who, with a young man, her husband's brother, went with us. While we were on the coast of Ireland where the wind kept us some weeks, I overheard the Irish contriving how they should be free when they got to America. To accomplish their design they concluded to rise and kill the ship's crew and all the English and to appoint the above-mentioned young man to navigate the vessel. But, overhearing their conversation, I discovered their barbarous intention to the captain, who acquainted the English with it.
The next day we bore for the shore, and at a short distance from the cove of Cork, lowered sail and dropped anchor, under pretense that the wind was not fair for us to stand our course. The boat was hoisted out, and the passengers were invited to go and divert themselves on shore. Along with others went the ringleader of the Irish. This was all that was desired. The rest left him and came on board. The captain immediately ordered his men to weigh anchor and hoist sail. There were great outcries for the young man on shore, but he said that the wind had freshened up and he would not stay for his own son. Thus were the designs of those Irish servants rendered abortive in a way they did not suspect, and which it was thought advisable to keep a secret lest they should injure me. At length, however, they discovered that I understood their speech by my smiling at a story they were telling. From this time they devised many ways to do me mischief, for which several of them were punished.
On the 15th of the seventh month, which was nine weeks after we left Dublin, we arrived at New York. Here I was betrayed by the very men whose lives I had preserved. The captain caused an indenture to be made and threatened me with a jail if I refused to sign it. I told him that I could find means to satisfy him for my passage without becoming bound. He replied that I might take my choice, either to sign the indenture he showed me or the one I had signed in Ireland should be in force. In a fright I signed the former for I had by this time learned the character of the woman who first induced me to think of going to America. She was a vile creature, and I feared that if I fell into her hands, I should be used ill.
In two weeks I was sold. At first I had not much reason to complain of the treatment received. But in a short time a difference, in which I was innocent, happened that set my master against me, and rendered him inhuman. It will be impossible for me to convey an adequate idea of the sufferings of my servitude. Though my father was not rich, yet, in his house I lived well and I had been used to little but my school. But now I found it would have been better for me if I had been brought up with less indulgence. I was not allowed decent clothes. I was obliged to perform the meanest drudgery, and even to go barefoot in the snow. I suffered the utmost hardship that my body was able to bear, and the effect produced on my mind had nearly been my ruin for ever.
My master seemed to be a very religious man, taking the sacrament, so called, regularly, and praying every night in his family, unless his prayer book could not be found, for he never prayed without it to my knowledge. His example, however, made me sick of his religion. For though I had but little religion myself, I had some idea of what religious people ought to be. Respecting religion, my opinions began to waver. I even doubted whether there was any such thing and began to think that the convictions I had felt from my infancy were only the prejudices of education. These convictions seemed now to be lost and for some months I do not remember to have felt them.
I became hardened and was ready to conclude that there was no God. The veneration I had felt for religious men in my infancy was entirely gone. I now looked upon them in a very different manner. My master's house was a place of great resort for the clergy and sometimes those who came from a distance lodged with him. The observations I made on their conduct confirmed me in my atheistical opinions. They diverted themselves in the evening with cards and songs, and a few moments after, introduced prayers and singing psalms to Almighty God. Often did I say to myself, “If there be a God, he is a pure Being and will not hear the prayers of polluted lips."
But he who hath in an abundant manner shown mercy to me, as will be seen in the sequel, did not long suffer my mind to be perplexed with doubts, but in a moment, when my feet were on the brink of the bottomless pit, plucked me back.
To one woman, and to no other, I told the nature of the difference which had happened two years before between my master and me. By her means he heard of it, and though he knew it was true, he sent for the town's whipper to correct me. I was called in. He never asked me whether I had told any such thing, but ordered me to strip. My heart was ready to burst. I would as freely have given up my life as have suffered such ignominy.
“If," said I, “there be a God, be graciously pleased to look down on one of the most unhappy creatures and plead my cause, for thou knowest that what I have related is the truth." And had it not been for a principle more noble than he was capable of, I would have told it to his wife. Then fixing my eyes on the barbarous man, I said, “Sir, if you have no pity on me, yet for my father's sake spare me from this shame." For he had heard several ways of my parents. "And if you think I deserve such punishment, do it yourself." He took a turn over the room, and bade the whipper go about his business.
Thus I came off without a blow, but my character seemed to be lost. Many reports of me were spread, which I bless God were not true. I suffered so much cruelty that I could not bear it and was tempted to put an end to my miserable life. I listened to the temptation, and for that purpose went into the garret to hang myself. It was now that I felt convinced that there was a God. As I entered the place, horror and trembling seized me, and while I stood as one in amazement, I seemed to hear a voice saying, “There is a hell beyond the grave." I was greatly astonished, and cried, “God be merciful and enable me to bear whatever thou in thy providence shall suffer to come upon me." I then went down stairs, but let no one know what I had been about.
Soon after this I had a dream. And though some ridicule dreams, this seemed very significant to me, and therefore I shall mention it. I thought I heard a knocking at the door, by which, when I had opened it, there stood a grave woman, holding in her right hand a lamp burning, who, with a solid countenance, fixed her eye upon me and said, “I am sent to tell thee that if thou wilt return to the Lord thy God who created thee, he will have mercy on thee, and thy lamp shall not be put out in obscurity." Her lamp then flamed in an extraordinary manner. She left me, and I awoke. But, alas! I did not give up to the “heavenly vision," as I think I may call it.
I was nearly caught in another snare of the most dangerous nature. I was esteemed skillful at singing and dancing, in which I took great delight. Once, falling in with a company of players who were then in New York, they took a great fancy, as they said, to me and invited me to become an actress amongst them. They added that they would find means to release me from my cruel servitude and I should live like a lady. The proposal pleased me, and I took no small pains to qualify myself for them in reading their play-books, even when I should have slept. Yet, on reflection, I demurred at taking this new step when I came to consider what my father would think of it, who had forgiven my disobedience in marrying and had sent for me home, earnestly desiring to see me again. But my proud heart would not suffer me to return in so mean a condition and I preferred bondage.
However, when I had served about three years, I bought out the remainder of my time and worked at my needle, by which I could maintain myself handsomely. But, alas! I was not sufficiently punished. I released myself from one cruel servitude and in the course of a few months entered into another for life by marrying a young man who fell in love with me for my dancing, a poor motive for a man to choose a wife or a woman a husband. For my part, I was in love with nothing I saw in him and it seems unaccountable to me that after refusing several offers, both in this country and Ireland, I should at last marry one I did not esteem. My husband was a schoolmaster. A few days after we were married, we went from New York to a place called Westerly, in Rhode Island, where he had engaged to keep a school.
With respect to religion he was much like myself, without any. And when intoxicated, he would use the worst of oaths. I do not mention this to expose him, but to show the effect it had on me. I saw myself ruined, as I thought, in being joined to a man I did not love, and who was a pattern of no good to me. We thus seemed hastening towards destruction, when I concluded that if I was not forsaken of heaven I would alter my course of life. To fix my affection on the Divine Being and not to love my husband, seemed inconsistent. I daily desired, with tears, that my affections might be directed in a right manner, and I can say that in a little time my love was sincere.
I resolved to do my duty to God and expecting I must come to the knowledge of it by the Scriptures, I read these sacred writings with a determination to follow their directions. The more I read, the more uneasy I grew, especially about baptism. I had reason to believe I had been sprinkled in my infancy, because at the age of thirteen I was confirmed by the bishop. Yet I could not discover a precedent for the practice. In the course of reading, I came to the passage where it is said, “He that believes and is baptized," etc. Here I observed that belief, of which I was not capable when sprinkled, went before baptism.
I conversed frequently with the Seventh-day Baptists that lived in the neighborhood, and at length thinking it a real duty I was in the winter baptized by one of their teachers. I did not strictly join with them, though I began to think the seventh-day the true Sabbath and for a time kept it. My husband did not oppose me, for he saw I grew more affectionate to him. And as yet I did not refuse to sing and dance when he asked me, though this way of amusing myself did not yield me so much satisfaction as formerly.
My husband and I now formed the plan of going to England, and for this purpose we went to Boston where we found a vessel bound to Liverpool. We agreed for our passage and expected to sail in about two weeks. But in the mean time, a gentleman hired the vessel to carry himself and his attendants to Fayal and took no other passengers. There being no other ship near sailing, we for that time gave up our design, though we continued at Boston several weeks. My mind was still not satisfied with regard to religion. I had reformed my conduct so as to be accounted by those who knew me a sober woman. Yet I was not content, for I expected to find the sweets of such a change. And though several thought me religious, I dared not to think so myself. I conversed with people of all societies as opportunity offered, several of whom thought I was of their persuasion. However, I joined strictly with none, but resolved never to leave off searching till I found the truth. This was in the twenty-second year of my age.
While we were in Boston, I went one day to the Quakers' meeting where I heard a woman Friend speak, at which I was a little surprised. I had been told of women's preaching, but I had never heard it before, and I looked upon her with pity for her ignorance and contempt for her practice, saying to myself, “I'm sure you're a fool, and if ever I turn Quaker, which will never be, I will not be a preacher." Thus was my mind occupied while she was speaking. When she had done, a man stood up, who I could better bear. He spoke sound doctrine on good Joshua's resolution, “As for me and my house we will serve the Lord." After sitting down and remaining silent awhile, he went to prayer, which was attended with something so awful and affecting, that it drew tears from my eyes.
After leaving Boston, my husband being given to rambling, which was very disagreeable to me, we went to Rhode Island, and from thence to the east end of Long Island where he hired to keep a school. This place was principally settled by Presbyterians, and I soon became acquainted with the most religious among them. My poverty was no bar to my reception with people of the best credit, with whom I frequently conversed. But the more I became acquainted with them, the less I liked their opinions.
Many temptations in the mean time assaulted my unsettled mind. Having been abroad one day, I perceived that the people in whose house we had a room had left some flax in an apartment through which I was to pass. At the sight of it, I was tempted to steal some to make thread. I went to it and took a small bunch in my hand, upon which I was smitten with such remorse that I laid it down again, saying, “Lord keep me from so vile an action." But the temptation to steal became stronger than before, and I took the bunch of flax into my room. When I came there, horror seized me, and with tears I cried out, “O, thou God of mercy, enable me to abstain from this vile action." I then took the flax back and felt that pleasure which is only known to those who have resisted temptation.
My husband having been hired further up the island, we changed our residence, and the nearest place of worship belonging to a congregation of the Church of England, which I liked best, I attended it.
A fresh exercise of a very peculiar kind now came upon me. It was in the second month. I was sitting by a fire in company with several others, among whom was my husband, when there arose a thunder clap and a noise like from a mighty trumpet which pierced my ears with these words, “Oh eternity! eternity! the endless term of long eternity!" I was exceedingly astonished, and while I was sitting as in a trance, I beheld a long roll written in black characters, hearing at the same time a voice saying, “These are thy sins," and afterwards adding, “And the blood of Christ is not sufficient to wash them out. This is shown thee that thou mayest confess thy damnation to be just, and not in order that thou shouldst be forgiven." I sat speechless.
At last I got up trembling and threw myself on the bed. The company thought my indisposition proceeded from a fright occasioned by the thunder, but it was of another kind. For several months I was almost in a state of despair, and if at any time I endeavored to hope or lay hold of any gracious promise, the tempter would insinuate that it was now too late, that the day of mercy was over and that I should only add to my sins by praying for pardon and provoke Divine vengeance to make of me a monument of wrath. I was, as it were, already in torment. I could not sleep and ate but little. I became extremely melancholy and took no delight in any thing. Had all the world been mine, I would have given it gladly for one glimpse of hope.
My husband was shocked to see me so changed. I, who once used to divert him with singing and dancing in which he greatly delighted, could not since I grew religious do it any longer. My singing was turned into mourning and my dancing into lamentation. My nights and days were one continued scene of sorrow. But I let no one know the state of my mind. In vain did my husband use all the means in his power to divert my melancholy. The wound was too deep to be healed with any thing short of the balm of Gilead. For fear of evil spirits I dared not, nor would my husband suffer me to go much alone. And if I took up the Bible, he would take it from me, exclaiming, “How you are altered. You used to be agreeable company, but now I've no comfort in you." I endeavored to bear all with patience, expecting that I should soon have to bear more than man could inflict.
I went to the priest to see if he could relieve me, but he was a stranger to my case. He advised me to take the sacrament and amuse myself with innocent diversions. He also lent me a book of prayers which he said were suited to my condition. But all was to no purpose. As to the sacrament, I thought myself in a very unfit state to receive it worthily; as for prayers, it appeared to me that when I could pray acceptably, I should be enabled to do it without form, and diversions were burdensome. My husband, with a view to alleviate my grief, persuaded me to go to the raising of a building where much company was collected, but it had a contrary effect. An officer came to summons a jury to sit on the body of a man who had hanged himself. On receiving this information, a voice within me seemed to address me thus, “Thou shalt be the next to come to a like end, for thou art not worthy to die a natural death."
For two months I was daily tempted to destroy myself, often so strongly that I could scarcely resist. Before I ventured to walk out alone, I left behind me every article which in an unguarded moment I might use for this purpose, fervently desiring at the same time that God would preserve me from taking that life which he had given, and which he would have made happy, if I had accepted the offers of his grace by regarding the convictions he had favored me with from my youth.
During all this agony of mind, I could not shed a tear. My heart was hardened and my life miserable. But God in his infinite mercy delivered my soul from this thraldom. One night, as I lay in bed bemoaning my condition, I cried, “Oh my God, I beseech thee, in thy mercy look down upon me for Christ's sake, who hath promised that all manner of sins and blasphemies shall be forgiven. Lord, if thou wilt be graciously pleased to extend this promise to me, an unworthy creature, trembling before thee, in all that thou shalt command, I will obey thee." In an instant my heart was tendered and I was dissolved in a flood of tears. I abhorred my past offenses and admired the mercies of my God. I could now hope in Christ my Redeemer and look upon him with an eye of faith. I experienced what I believed when the priest lent me his book, that when my prayers would be acceptable, I should not need a form, which I used no more. I now took the sacrament and can say I did it with reverence and fear.
Being thus released from my deep distress, I seemed like another creature and went often alone without fear. Once, as I was abhorring myself in great humility of mind, I seemed to hear a gracious voice, full of love, say to me, “I will never forsake thee, only obey in what I shall make known unto thee." I answered, “My soul doth magnify the God of mercy. If thou wilt dispense thy grace, the rest of my days shall be devoted to serve thee. And if it be thy will that I should beg my bread, I will submit with content to thy providence."
I now began to think of my relations in Pennsylvania whom I had not yet seen. My husband gave me liberty to visit them, and I obtained a certificate from the priest, in order that, if I made any stay, I might be received as a member of the church wherever I came. My husband accompanied me to the Blazing-star ferry, saw me safely over, and then returned. In my way I fell from my horse and for several days was unable to travel. I abode at the house of an honest Dutchman, who, with his wife, paid me the utmost attention and would have no recompense for their trouble. I left them with sentiments of deep gratitude for their extraordinary kindness, and they charged me, if ever I came that way again, to lodge with them. I mention this, because I shall have occasion to allude to it hereafter.
When I came to Trenton ferry, I felt no small mortification on hearing that my relations were all Quakers, and what was worst of all, that my aunt was a preacher. I was exceedingly prejudiced against this people, and often wondered how they could call themselves Christians. I repented my coming and was almost inclined to turn back. Yet, as I was so far on my journey, I proceeded, though I expected but little comfort from my visit. How little was I aware that it would bring me to the knowledge of the Truth!
I went from Trenton to Philadelphia by water, and from thence to my uncle's on horseback. My uncle was dead, and my aunt had married again. Yet, both she and her husband received me in the kindest manner. I had scarcely been three hours in the house before my opinion of these people began to alter. I perceived a book lying upon the table and being fond of reading, took it up. My aunt observed me, and said, “Cousin, that is a Quaker's book." She saw I was not a Quaker and supposed I would not like it. I made her no answer, but queried with myself, "What can these people write about? I have heard that they deny the Scriptures and have no other Bible than George Fox's Journal, denying also all the holy ordinances." But, before I had read two pages, my heart burned within me, and for fear that I should be seen, I went into the garden. I sat down, and as the piece was short, I read it before I returned, though I was often obliged to stop to give vent to my tears.
The fullness of my heart produced the involuntary exclamation, “O my God, must I, if ever I come to the knowledge of thy Truth, be of this man's opinion, who has sought thee as I have done. And must I join this people to whom a few hours ago I preferred the Papists. O, thou God of my salvation and of my life, who hast abundantly manifested thy long suffering and tender mercy in redeeming me as from the lowest hell, I beseech thee to direct me in the right way and keep me from error, so will I perform my covenant and think nothing too near to part with for thy name's sake. O, happy people, thus beloved of God !"
After having collected myself, I washed my face so that it might not be perceived that I had been weeping. In the night I got but little sleep. The enemy of mankind haunted me with his insinuations, suggesting that I was one of those who wavered and was not steadfast in faith, advancing several texts of Scripture against me, as that, in the latter days there should be those who would deceive the very elect, that of such were the people I was among, and that I was in danger of being deluded. Warned in this manner, (from the right source as I thought,) I resolved to be aware of those deceivers, and for some weeks did not touch one of their books.
The next day, being the first of the week, I was desirous of going to church, which was distant about four miles. But being a stranger and having no one to go with me, I gave up all thoughts of that, and as most of the family were going to meeting, I went there with them. As we sat in silence, I looked over the meeting and said to myself, “How like fools these people sit. How much better would it be to stay at home and read the Bible or some good book than to come here and go to sleep." As for me I was very drowsy and while asleep, I had nearly fallen down. This was the last time I ever fell asleep in a meeting.