“John Birtell has paid £48 4s. 7d. for the pictures, frames and
cases, which should be repaid to him. I understood from S. A. it was
thy wish to make thy sister a present of one of them, and in that
case please to remit the amount to John Birtell; if she (S. A.) is
mistaken, remit the money to J. B. nevertheless, and I will repay
thee the half of it; but I insist upon one condition both from thee
and thy sister: that as long as I live, the pictures be nowhere but
in your bed-chambers. The first was begun without my knowledge, and
indirect means used to accomplish it; at length I was candidly told
it was determined to have it, and when I saw what was done, I thought
it better to sit for the finishing than to have it a mere caricature;
but I think it a very moderate performance at last. I was willing
too, to avail myself of the opportunity, if such a one must be
presented, of exhibiting my belief of Christianity as exhibited in
the 5th chapter of the Romans; and my estimation of certain authors,
by affixing their names to the books delineated in the back ground.”
In reference to this subject (his portrait), some twelve months after, in
a letter to his son, he says:—
“This reminds me to mention what I intended to have mentioned before;
that is, an alteration I propose to be made in the one here, and if
this could be done in the others, I should like it; and which, I
suppose, would be best effected by obliterating the books, and
arranging them differently, according to the estimation in which
their writings or character may be supposed to be held; with the
addition of Kempis and Fenelon, not only for their intrinsic merits,
but to show that our good opinion was not confined to our own
countrymen. They would then stand thus:—
“Fox and Penn.
Woolman and Clarkson.
Hanway and Howard.
Milton and Cowper.
Addison and Watts.
Barclay and Locke.
Sir W. Jones and Sir W. Blackstone.
Kempis and Fenelon.
“I do not know whether I gave thee my reasons, as I did to thy
sister, for the original selection. She may shew thee my letter to
her, and thou may communicate the above to her, with my dear love to
all, repeated from
“Thy affectionate father,
“RICHARD REYNOLDS.”
It was the custom when Mr. Reynolds had charge of the Coalbrookdale works
to perform long journeys on horseback, and we have heard it said that on
one occasion, being mounted on the back of an old trooper, near Windsor,
where George III. was reviewing some troops, the horse, on hearing
martial music, pricked up his ears, and carried Mr. Reynolds into the
midst of them before he could be reined up. He was a good horseman, and
a grandson of Mr. Reynolds writes:—
“We also enjoyed very much our grandfather’s account of a visit paid
to the Ketley Iron Works by Lord Thurlow, the then Lord Chancellor.
My grandfather, having gone through the works with his lordship, and
given him all requisite information and needful refreshment, proposed
to accompany him part of the way on his return, which offer his
lordship gratefully accepted, and the horses were ordered to the door
accordingly. They were, both of them, good riders, and were, both of
them, well mounted. The Lord Chancellor’s horse, no doubt a little
instigated thereto by his owner, took the lead, and my grandfather’s
horse, nothing loth to follow the example, kept as nearly neck and
neck with his rival as _his_ owner considered respectful. The speed
was alternately increased, until they found themselves getting on at
a very dashing pace indeed! and they became aware that the steeds
were as nearly matched as possible. At last, the Chancellor pulled
up, and complimenting my grandfather upon his ‘very fine horse’
confessed that he had never expected to meet with one who could trot
so fast as his own. My grandfather acknowledged to a similar
impression on his part; and his lordship, heartily shaking hands with
him, and thanking him for his great attention, laughed, and said, ‘I
think, Mr. Reynolds, this is probably the first time that ever a Lord
Chancellor and a Quaker rode a race together.’”
The years 1774, 1782, and 1796 were periods of great distress. Haggard
hunger, despairing wretchedness, and ignorant force were banded to
trample down the safeguards of civil right, and armed ruffians took the
initiative in scrambles for food. The gravity of the occasion, in the
latter case, may be estimated by the subscriptions for the purchase of
food for the starving population. We give those of the iron companies of
this district only: Messrs. Bishton and Co. gave £1,500; Mr. Botfield,
for the Old Park Company, £1,500; Mr. Joseph Reynolds, for the Ketley
Company, £2,000; Mr. R. Dearman, for the Coalbrookdale Company, £1,500;
Mr. William Reynolds, for the Madeley-Wood Company, £1000. Mr. Richard
Reynolds gave £500 as his individual subscription. Applications, in
times of distress, from far and near were made to Mr. Reynolds for
assistance. Taking a general view of the distress existing in the
beginning of the year 1811, he says, in reply to a letter from a
clergyman, “I am thankful I am not altogether without sympathy with my
fellow-men, or compassion for the sufferings to which the want of
employment subjects the poor, or the sufferings still more severe of some
of their former employers. Thou mentions Rochdale, Bolton, Leeds, and
Halifax. Wilt thou apply the enclosed towards the relief of some of
them, at thy discretion? Those who want it most and deserve it best
should have the preference,—the aged, honest, sober, and industrious. I
am sensible how limited the benefits from such a sum in so populous a
district must be, and of the difficulty of personal investigation before
distribution. If it could be made subservient to the procuring an
extensive contribution it would be of more important service. If it
cannot I think it would be best to commit it to some judicious person or
persons in each place, to distribute with the utmost privacy, and (that)
for their own sakes, were it only to avoid applications from more than
they could supply, and yet the refusal would subject them to abuse. But
in whatever manner thou shalt dispose of it, I send it upon the express
condition that nobody living knows thou ever had it from me; this is
matter of conscience with me. In places where we are known, and on
public occasions, when one’s example would have an influence, it may be
as much a duty to give up one’s name as one’s money; but otherwise I
think we cannot too strictly follow the injunction:—‘Take heed that ye do
not your alms before men to be seen of them, otherwise ye have no reward
of your Father which is in heaven.’”
If some poor tradesman in London or elsewhere was tottering on the verge
of bankruptcy, and a friend was found to write to Richard Reynolds, he
was put upon his legs again. Poor debtors found themselves relieved from
the King’s Bench by an unknown hand. Unwilling to be known as the giver
of large sums, he would sometimes forward his subscriptions with his
name, and send a larger contribution anonymously afterwards. In this way
he gave a sum in his own name on behalf of the distress in Germany, and
then forwarded a further sum of £500 privately. For years he had
almoners in London and elsewhere, dispensing sums to meet distress, and
on behalf of public and private charities, scrupulously enacting that his
name should not appear in the transactions. To one party he sent £20,000
during the distress of 1795. He had four distributors of his bounty
constantly employed in Bristol alone. They brought in their accounts
weekly, giving the names of persons or families, the sums given, and the
circumstances under which they were relieved. Not the least to be
appreciated was the consideration and delicacy with which he assisted
persons not ostensibly objects of charity (to use the word in its common
sense) and many who, through relationship, personal interest, or
estimable conduct were felt to have claims on his kindness and
generosity.
He solicited in Bristol subscriptions on a large scale for augmenting the
fund for the payment of a weekly sum to the inhabitants of the
almshouses, going from house to house,—his own zeal kindling that of
others. One gentleman to whom he applied, of acknowledged wealth and
importance in the city, having given him a cheque for £500, he said he
would give him back the cheque, as such a sum from _him_ would do more
harm than good. The gentleman immediately wrote another for £1000. He
himself gave £2000 (one of his friends says £4000), and £4000 to the
Trinity almshouses. In 1808 he placed in the hands of the trustees the
sum of £10,500 to be invested in land, the rent of which was to be
devoted to seven charitable institutions in Bristol, named in the deed
and trust, in such manner and proportion, either to one alone, or between
any, as should at the time appear expedient to the trustees. An addition
to the infirmary being needed, he devoted much of his time to that
object, subscribing £2,600. The committee also received an anonymous
donation of £1000, entertaining no doubt who was the giver; and on the
following day one of their number happening to meet Richard Reynolds,
thanked him in the name of the committee for his acceptable donation. He
said—“Thou hast no authority for saying I sent the money,” and the
gentleman repeating the acknowledgment of the committee, Mr. Reynolds
quietly said—“Well, I see thou art determined that I should give thee a
thousand pounds,” and the next day they received a donation of that sum
with his name attached, thus doubling his first contribution. To these
gifts may be added (besides his annual subscription) donations:—£1,260 to
the Stranger’s Friend; £900 to the Misericordia; £500 to the Refuge, and
the same to the Orphan Asylum; and to the Bible Society, £900. Of
several other small amounts one need only be mentioned, from his
purse,—that of £300 to the Temple parish, towards providing a better
supply of water to the poor.
Mr. Reynolds’s last visit to Ketley, the scene of his labours, and the
source of his vast income, was in June, 1816. His funeral took place on
the 18th of September, amidst a manifestation of respect, as marked and
profound as ever was paid to the remains of mortal man. The city of
Bristol offered spontaneously to his memory that signal tribute of
general regard that a name embalmed by good deeds alone can win. Columns
of schoolboys, with mournful recollections of the good man’s smile,
formed a melancholy passage to the dwelling of their benefactor. These
were flanked by vast crowds of sympathising poor, who felt they had lost
a friend. The clergy of the Church of England, ministers of dissenting
congregations, gentlemen forming the committees of various societies, and
other leading men, besides a large body of the Society of Friends,
followed the several members and relatives of the family in procession.
So great was public curiosity excited on this occasion, and such the
eagerness manifested by the poor, who had lost their best friend, to pay
their last respect to his remains, that not only was the spacious
burial-ground filled with spectators and mourners, but the very tops of
walls and houses surrounding the area were covered. The behaviour of the
vast concourse of people was in the highest degree decent, orderly and
respectful, the poor, considering it a favour to be permitted in their
turn to approach the grave of their departed friend, and to drop the
silent tear as a mark of their regard for the man whose life had been
spent in doing good.
Montgomery, in verses from which we extract the following, paid a just
tribute to his memory:
Strike a louder, loftier lyre;
Bolder, sweeter strains employ;
Wake remembrance! and inspire
Sorrow with the song of joy.
Who was he for whom our tears
Flowed, and will not cease to flow?
Full of honours and of years,
In the dust his head lies low.
. . . . . . .
He was one whose open face
Did his inmost heart reveal;
One who wore with meekest grace
On his forehead heaven’s broad seal.
Kindness all his looks express’d,
Charity was every word;
Him the eye beheld and bless’d,
And the ear rejoiced and heard.
Like a patriarchal sage,
Holy, humble, courteous, mild,
He could blend the awe of age
With the sweetness of a child.
. . . . . . .
Oft his silent spirit went,
Like an angel from the throne,
On benign commission bent,
In the fear of God alone.
Then the widow’s heart would sing,
As she turned her wheel, for joy;
Then the bliss of hope would spring
On the outcast orphan boy.
To the blind, the deaf, the lame,
To the ignorant and vile,
Stranger, captive, slave, he came,
With a welcome and a smile.
Help to all he did dispense.
Gold, instruction, raiment, food,
Like the gifts of Providence,
To the evil and the good.
Deeds of mercy, deeds unknown,
Shall eternity record,
Which he durst not call his own,
For he did them for the Lord.
As the earth puts forth her flowers,
Heaven-ward breathing from below;
As the clouds descend in showers,
When the southern breezes glow.
. . . . . . .
Full of faith, at length he died,
And victorious in the race,
Wore the crown for which he died,
Not of merit but of grace.