Annals of the Poor (1829, London)/Introduction
INTRODUCTION.
It has been thought that an enlarged and illustrated edition of the "Annals of the Poor," might not be unacceptable to the public; and that a brief sketch of the Author's life might with advantage be appended. It has fallen to my lot to superintend such a publication.
The engravings which accompany this work, are made from drawings taken under the direction of the Author, and by him appropriated to the purpose for which they are now employed. It will be found, that some of the principal scenes which his graphic pen has described, are accurately delineated.
The "Dairyman's Daughter" is enlarged with a number of letters, &c. written by herself to her relatives. The originals of these have been preserved in the Author's possession. There are also added two letters addressed to her by the Author. I have judged it expedient not to interrupt the course of the narrative, and have therefore thrown together the additional matter in the form of an appendix.
The "Young Cottager," and the "Negro Servant," are reprinted without alteration, from the last edition.
Two little pieces from Mr. Richmond's pen, inserted in the first volume of the Christian Guardian, now for the first time accompany his larger tracts. They are entitled "The Cottage Conversation," and "A Visit to the Infirmary."
I have a melancholy satisfaction in sketching the life of my lamented father-in-law, and I willingly embrace the opportunity of affectionately paying a public tribute to the memory of one so valued and beloved. I purposely refrain from intruding into the province of the biographer: a complete memoir, of Mr. R. having been already given to the public. My aim is only to catch two or three more prominent features of his character, introducing just so much of narration as may serve to render my observations intelligible.
Legh Richmond was born at Liverpool, Jan. 29, 1772. He was the eldest child of Dr. Henry Richmond, the descendant of an ancient and honourable family. A remarkable casualty befell him in his childhood, the effects of which he never recovered. At a very early age, in leaping from a wall, he contracted an injury in his left leg, which issued in incurable lameness. It is somewhat singular that an accident nearly similar occurred to a younger brother, and also to his second son. Each of them, in infancy, fell from an open window. The former was killed, and the latter was ever after afflicted in the same limb with the same kind of lameness as his father.
After a private preparatory education, Legh Richmond was admitted a member of Trinity College, Cambridge. While an under-graduate, he pursued his studies with a talent and a zeal which gave fair promise that the highest honours of his year were not beyond his reach. These hopes were however blighted by a severe illness, which was partly owing to his anxious and unremitted application. Precluded by this cause, from engaging in the honourable contention of the senate-house, he received what is academically termed an ægrotat degree; commencing B.A. in 1794; and with some intermissions he resided in the university three years longer.
We are now to view Mr. Richmond in a totally different character. In the summer of 1797, he became, within the space of a very few weeks, (to borrow his own words,) "academically a master of arts, domestically a husband, parochially a deacon." He had been originally destined to the law; but having imbibed a distaste for that profession, his attention was subsequently directed to the church, and he was now admitted to the sacred office. Brading, a secluded village in the Isle of Wight, was the scene of his earliest pastoral labours. He was ordained to the curacy of this place and the little adjoining village of Yaverland; and in Yaverland church he delivered his first sermon.
These scenes will long be dear to Christian remembrance. Lovely in themselves, and consecrated by the pen of Legh Richmond, they will be viewed with no ordinary feelings: and he who disdains not the "simple annals of the poor," while he treads the sod which covers "little Jane," or visits the lowly cottage of the "Dairyman," will not fail to glorify God for those who here have slept in Jesus, and "though dead, yet speak."
At the time of his ordination, Mr. Richmond saw little of the magnitude of that work in which he was engaging. As yet, he was himself but little acquainted with the things of God, and was therefore little qualified to become the spiritual instructor of others. His habits of life were decorous and exemplary, his pulpit compositions interesting and moral, but as yet he was little imbued with the spirit of vital godliness. This man, however, (may it not be said?) was "a chosen vessel to the Lord." Ere many months elapsed, a complete revolution was effected in his religious sentiments. This is, under God, mainly to be ascribed to the perusal of Mr. Wilberforce's "Practical View of Christianity." He now with enlightened understanding and decisive zeal, set himself to "do the work of an evangelist." Not only was he in the pulpit, instant in "preaching the word," but he was also to be found with his pastoral admonitions in the dwellings of his flock, and could descend, with sweet and winning gentleness, to "feed his lambs." The fruit of his labours was speedily apparent. "Little Jane" was the first flower which bloomed from the good seed he was sowing.
The circumstances attendant upon his intercourse with the subjects of the Annals will be found narrated in the several tracts. I only observe in this place, that "little Jane" died January 30th, 1799, in her fifteenth year: that the conversations with the "Negro Servant" were held during the summer of 1803, and that the death of the "Dairyman's Daughter" took place May 30th, 1801: her age was thirty-one.
After a residence of about seven years in the Isle of Wight, where his labours had been evidently and largely blessed, Mr. Richmond removed to London. He was here to take a share in the duties of the Lock Chapel. The very first sermon he delivered from the pulpit of this place was, there is every reason to believe, under God's blessing, the instrumental means of effecting a saving change in the heart of, at least, one individual.
Scarcely, however, was he well settled in this new scene, when the good providence of God removed him to the rectory of Turvey, Bedfordshire. He was presented to this living by Miss Fuller, in 1805.
Long will the name of Richmond be venerated at Turvey; long will the savour of his affectionate ministrations abide in the hearts of his mourning flock. A singular blessing still attended him. From the earliest to literally the latest, his preaching was visibly "in demonstration of the Spirit and of power."
It was during his residence at Turvey, that most of Mr. Richmond's publications were undertaken. He had previously printed two or three single sermons;[1] but it was at Turvey that his great work, "The Fathers of the English church," was carried on. For the superintendance of this important undertaking he was eminently qualified. Accident, or I would rather say, a remarkable providence, had, in the first instance, introduced him, while in the Isle of Wight, to the writings of our earlier and greatest theologians; and the study of them he had ever since zealously prosecuted. To a familiar acquaintance with the works of these divines, Mr. Richmond united the greatest impartiality and judgment in forming his selections. His work therefore presents, in a comparatively small compass, a large proportion of the most valuable of the remains of our martyrs and confessors. It is not perhaps too much to say that it has been mainly instrumental in awakening to the reformers that attention and interest with which they are now increasingly regarded.
It was during his residence at Turvey also that Mr. Richmond drew up the narratives which are contained in the present volume. They were originally (in substance) inserted in the earlier numbers of the Christian Guardian. Having here attracted considerable attention, they were then published in the form of separate tracts, and afterwards, with considerable augmentations in the first edition of this volume.
It may appear perhaps unnecessary to pronounce an opinion on productions, which have been circulated by millions, and translated into twenty languages; and which, in a multitude of well-authenticated instances, have been, by the blessing of God, signally effective of good. I cannot however forbear to say, that in Legh Richmond's writings, more than in those of perhaps any other author, you behold the character of the man. His beautiful simplicity, his lively imagination, his tenderness of feeling, his devoted piety, were the characteristics of the man which enshrined him in the affections of all who knew him. And who can read a page of his Annals, and not recognise in those interesting narratives the same simple plainness, the same glowing fancy, the same touching pathos, the same ardent piety? In sketching his villagers, he has unconsciously delineated himself. He admits us to his retirement and meditations, shows us his hopes and fears, and presents us with all the secret workings of his soul. We admire the gifted minister of God, who in the deep humility of his spirit disdained not to listen to the voice of admonition, though it reached him from the lowly cottage; we cannot withhold our affection from the man.
If I were called on to say which of the narratives I prefer, I should most probably be inclined to fix on that of the "Young Cottager." There is something, in ray judgment, irresistibly engaging in the character and history of that simple girl. I can venerate the high and exalted piety of the "Dairyman's Daughter," who, with a masculine strength of understanding, had ever her word of counsel even for the minister; but I love the little, backward, neglected, retiring child, who starts forth at once in all the moral beauty of Christian attainment. There is something too in the condition of Jane which seems especially to call for our sympathy. The Dairyman's Daughter was constantly surrounded by a circle of affectionate relatives, who regarded her with reverence and love; while Jane's religion was, at best, little appreciated, often despised and ridiculed by her family, and her last hours were disturbed by sounds of blasphemy, proceeding from a parent. Many of the incidents also of this tale might be appealed to as conferring upon it a peculiar interest. The scene, for example, where Mr. Richmond, on his first visit to her, while speaking of the good news of the Gospel, enquires, "who brings this good news?" and is answered, "Sir, you brought it to me;" I know not who can read unmoved. Her parting benediction too—"God bless and reward you"—when with an unexpected exertion she threw her arms around him and expired—is inexpressibly affecting.
I close what I have to say on the subject of these tracts, by adding, that a few years ago, two gravestones were erected in the churchyards of Arreton and Brading respectively, to the memory of the "Dairyman's Daughter," and the "Young Cottager."
On the former are inscribed the following lines; the composition of a lady.
"Stranger, if e'er by chance or feeling led,
Upon this hallowed earth thy footsteps tread,
Turn from the contemplation of the sod,
And think on her whose spirit rests with God.
Lowly her lot on earth—but he who bore
Tidings of grace and blessings to the poor,
Gave her, his truth and faithfulness to prove,
The choicest treasures of his boundless love:—
Faith, that dispelled affliction's darkest gloom,
Hope, that could cheer the passage to the tomb,
Peace, that not hell's dark legions could destroy
And love, that filled the soul with heavenly joy.
Death of its sting disarmed, she knew no fear,
But tasted heaven, e'en while she lingered here:
Oh; happy saint! may we like thee be blest,
In life be faithful, and in death find rest."
The following epitaph is from Mr. Richmond's pen.
"Ye who delight the power of God to trace,
And mark with joy each monument of grace,
Tread lightly o'er this grave, as you explore
'The short and simple annals of the poor.'
"A child reposes underneath this sod,
A child to memory dear, and dear to God:
Rejoice, yet shed the sympathetic tear,
Jane "the Young Cottager," lies buried here.
During his residence at Turvey, Mr. Richmond became extendedly known to the public as the cordial friend, and ready advocate of the different religious societies, which have within the last thirty years grown up amongst us. His persuasive and pathetic eloquence in the pulpit or on the platform, when awaking Christian sympathy in behalf of the idolatrous Gentile, or the unbelieving Jew, will not be readily forgotten by the multitudes who have, so often, delighted and instructed, hung upon his lips. I believe his earliest appearance in this character, was on the ninth anniversary of the Church Missionary Society, before whom he was appointed, in 1809, to preach their annual sermon. This sermon may be appealed to as a fair and characteristic specimen of his powers in the pulpit; though I must be allowed to say, that to his flowing and harmonious language, his graceful delivery, and sweet expression of features, beaming with love to God and goodwill to men, imparted a charm which the mere reader of a printed sermon can by no means duly appreciate.
His preaching, for a long series of years, was altogether extemporaneous. His ready utterance, his exuberant fancy, his aptness of illustration, his deep knowledge of divine things, rendered his sermons always interesting and useful. Perhaps he did not, upon common occasions, allow himself sufficient previous study; but if this were his fault, he acted upon principle, "Why," he would often say, "why need I labour, when our simple villagers are far more usefully instructed in my plain, easy, familiar manner? The only result would be, that I should address them in a style beyond their comprehension."
His appearance on the platform of a public meeting, was universally hailed with pleasure. His ready adaptation of passing incidents, the suavity of his addresses, sometimes solemn, sometimes even jocose, interspersed with interesting narratives, which he could so well relate, deservedly placed him high in public esteem.
I ought, perhaps to state, that in 1814, Mr. Richmond was appointed chaplain to the late Duke of Kent, by whom he was honoured with a share of his Royal Highness's friendship. In 1817 Mr. R. was presented by the late Emperor Alexander of Russia, with a splendid ring, as a testimony of the approbation with which his Imperial Majesty viewed the narratives in this volume.
Many peaceful years were passed at Turvey. Happy in the bosom of his family, no man more excelled as a pattern of domestic virtues than Legh Richmond.
At length, in 1825, Mr. R.'s domestic happiness sustained a severe blow by the death of his second son, a youth in his nineteenth year. For this beloved child, he had fostered many a fond hope and anxious expectation, and beheld with all a father's joy, "non flosculos—sed jam certos atque deformatos fructus." This fair flower was withered by consumption, and the bereaved parent, though he submitted as a Christian, yet sorrowed as a man. In a few short months the stroke was repeated. Intelligence arrived that his eldest son, who had been absent many years, had died on his voyage from India to England.
These afflictive dispensations had a marked and peculiar effect upon Legh Richmond. He who used to be the life of the domestic and social circle, would now be silent and abstracted: yet it was not the morbid gloom of a repining heart, it was rather the solemnity of conviction that he should ere long rejoin his lamented children. His bodily health too seemed in some measure decaying. His multitude of pastoral duties were too heavy for his strength. For the last twelve months of his life he was troubled with an irritating cough, which seemed to indicate an affection of the lungs. At length, (March 1827,) he contracted a violent cold, which issued in pleurisy; from which however he shortly appeared to be recovering. During all this time, when certainly no immediate danger was apprehended, he was peacefully and quietly setting his house in order. To his family he knew the idea of separation would be agony: he therefore scarcely hinted to them what he felt was nigh at hand: but to a clerical friend, he, in striking words, professed that simple reliance on the atonement of Christ, which alone can cheer and support the soul in the hour of dissolution. It soon became evident to those around him, that the flood of life was ebbing calmly yet fast: and at last, (May 8,) without pain or struggle, the ready spirit sweetly and softly passed from her mortal tenement: and Legh Richmond slept in Jesus.
Farewell, dear friend and father! Very pleasant were the hours and years of our communion: but they are passed away, and the savour only, sad yet sweet, remains. "Farewell, dear friend, till the morning of an eternal day renew our personal intercourse!" May I meet thee in a better world.
I cannot but connect the closing hours of my beloved friend, with that affecting prayer which he has breathed in the Young Cottager. (Part IV.) He had been describing the useful course and peaceful termination of a little rivulet, which glides through a very lovely glen, by which he was meditating. "May my course be like unto thine, thou little rivulet! Though short be my span of life, yet may I be useful to my fellow-sinners as I travel onwards! Let me be a dispenser of spiritual support and health to many! Like this stream may I prove the poor man's friend by the way, and water the souls that thirst for the river of life, wherever I meet them! And if it pleases thee, O my God, let me in my latter end be like this brook! It calmly, though not quite silently flows through this scene of peace and loveliness, just before it enters the sea. Let me thus gently close my days likewise; and may I not unusefully tell to others of the goodness and mercy of my Saviour, till I arrive at the vast ocean of eternity."
That prayer was surely answered. He did tell to men, with abundant blessing, of the goodness and mercy of his Saviour: be did thus gently close his days.
Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.
- Islington,
Feb. 21st, 1828.
- ↑ These were, a Fast-day Sermon, and one On the Close of the Year, preached at Brading; and a Sermon on Cruelty to the Brute Creation, delivered at Bath.