Domestic Portraiture

by Legh Richmond, 1834

(With remarks by Edward Bickersteth)

The successful application of Christian principle in the education of a family, exemplified in the memoirs of three of the deceased children of the Legh Richmond.

Life and death of Legh Richmond's third daughter

'Sure 'tis a solemn thing to die, my soul.' Blair.

'This only can reconcile us to the grave—that our greatest hopes lie beyond it.' Howe.

We proceed with the same view of illustration, to notice some particulars relating to the third daughter of Mr. Richmond, who survived her father only a year and a half. She was also the child of faith and prayer, and equally the object of his tender solicitude with the rest of his family.

I am not warranted to present her character as an instance of high attainment in piety; but the exercises of her mind during her last illness, sufficiently disclose the beneficial effect of a pious education; and while we indulge the pleasing hope that she has joined her beloved father in the mansions of the blessed, her case will afford additional encouragement to the Christian parent, to sow in his children's hearts the seeds of eternal life, which, watered "by the early and latter rain," seldom fail to spring up and ripen to reward his labors, as occasions arise in the varying circumstances and events of life.

This amiable young woman "possessed an exuberance of spirit, and a turn for the frivolous, which was very difficult to be restrained within the bounds of discretion, and gave her dear father much anxiety." A volatile temper is in all cases a grievous hindrance to intellectual and spiritual improvement. Good conversation cannot consist with the indulgence of "foolish talking and jesting," and the mind is diverted by it from solid and useful pursuits.

"We may attempt to excuse this cast of character, and speak of it as a playfulness of temper—but after all, it cannot be approved. The disposition to amuse ourselves with the defects or peculiarities of others, may generally be traced to vanity in ourselves; and is a habit of mind wholly inconsistent with the spirit of humility and love, as well as a sad forgetfulness of that solemn caution, "Every idle word that a man shall speak, he shall give an account thereof at the day of judgment."

There was not, however anything cynical or severe in the strain of this young person's conversation. She was naturally frank, open, and kind hearted, and to oblige another was a real satisfaction to herself. It was rather a thoughtless propensity, common to many young people, "to giggle and make giggle," that I am lamenting.

It is difficult to speak of the dead so as not to wound the tender feelings of the living—but when it is required to portray character, the simple declaration of the truth is best, and is indeed the only course consistent with Christian integrity. She who forms the subject of my present remarks, affixed a solemn seal to their truth in the affecting review which she took of the past in her dying hours. It is a source of much thanks, that she is now beyond the opinion of man, whose imperfect knowledge renders him at all times incompetent to pronounce on his fellow-creatures, and should remind him of the danger of assuming a prerogative he cannot claim. "Judge nothing before the time."

Mr. Richmond placed his daughter at school at __, where he expected that the strictest attention would be paid to her principles and conduct. I have no reason to suppose that he was dissatisfied with the care and vigilance of those to whom he had entrusted his child; but whatever she had acquired in other respects, it does not appear that at the close of her education, she had made any advancement in piety. About this time Mr. Richmond's addressed the following letter to her—

"Dear H,
And now comes your turn. Receive, read, mark, and inwardly digest. I do not know how much you are grown in stature—but I do hope you are growing in wisdom. Then, whether you are to be a woman tall, or a woman short, will signify very little. You will, if your wisdom be of the right kind, be of a tall mind and of tall attainments, and we will call you the little woman with the great soul. I have heard of a person's soul being so base and small, that if you were to put it into a hollow mustard-seed and shake it—that it would rattle. Now that is not the sort of soul I wish to discover in you. I want to see a soul in you which can embrace all useful and requisite knowledge—a soul which can extend its energies beyond ordinary limits; which can feel for all around you, and carry its benevolent activity throughout the universe; which can contemplate our globe—and find new problems upon it—as, how to carry the gospel into all latitudes and all longitudes; how to excite pity for the poor heathen in every zone and climate of the world; how to equalize all nations in the sympathy of Christian love, and thus make a spiritual equator; how to estimate the coldness of religion in the burning regions of the tropics, and how to carry the lively heat of evangelical charity into the districts of the poles. I would have you capable of grasping all these questions in your heart; with as much ease as your hands would clasp a doll, or as mine would clasp your own dear self to my bosom.

"But why do I wish that your soul may become thus capacious? Simply to this end—that you may thereby resemble him who so loved the world, that he came into it to save sinners; yes, H, sinners like yourself. Have you ever thought of this great truth as you ought? Is foolishness still bound up in the heart of my child? Is human existence only to be estimated by playthings, and holidays, and all the etceteras of a light-minded state? What, a young damsel, almost fourteen years old, and no more progress in divine things! Study your Bible, and remember your privileges. Study your Bible, and dig deep for a foundation whereon to build your house. Study your Bible, and say what must become of all the thoughtless little girls in the world—if they do not repent and believe. Once more, study your Bible, and learn what you first owe to God, and then to your parents, and then to brothers and sisters, then to teachers, and then to school-fellows, and then to all mankind. Such a meditation will, with God's blessing, prove a merciful hour to your own soul—and for the sake of yours, to my soul also.

"I hope you will now pursue your education with earnestness. Now is the time to lay in a stock of useful knowledge. You cannot set too high a value on the advantages which you possess. Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. Childhood and its vanities must speedily pass away, and you must soon be done with childish things. Learn to pray, and commit your whole soul and body to Christ. He is able to keep what you give into his hand, unto the great day when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed. You are now of the age at which little Jane did this. Are you like her? Are you as ready to meet your God as she was? Ask the question of your heart, and carry it to the throne of mercy, where all praying souls are made welcome.

"I hoped you liked the Bible-meeting at Northampton. I wish you early to cultivate a cordial interest in that great work—the greatest work of the age. The Bible was once unknown to the greatest part of the country. What a contrast now? The angel flies through heaven and earth, presenting it to all. The true cross proclaimed in the Bible, is the real Christian's ensign, prop, and delight. Farewell, dear love. I am
Your own dear father,

 

The next letter was written to the same daughter on her birthday.

"Dear H,
The return of a birthday is the signal for gratitude. Fourteen years ago, as I sat in my little study at Brading, in the Isle of Wight, about six in the morning, in came a woman bearing in her arms a little baby, and wished me joy of the same—now this little baby was a little girl, and that little girl was my H, and now is the fifteenth time that joy has been uttered from year to year whenever that day was named. But what is joy? Is it only a holiday? But what is joy? Is it only a game of play—is it merely a jumping, and frisking, and running, and chattering, and doll-dressing, and merry-making, and feast-making? Is this all the joy of a birthday? Away, far away be all such feeble interpretations of the word. Then what is a birthday joy? Is it not the joy of parents, when they see their children growing up in the fear of the Lord, and in the practice of holiness? Is it not the joy of the farmer, when he sees his crops ripe and plentiful, and offering the promise of harvest? Is it not the joy of the gardener, when he perceives his young trees thrive, and blossom, and bear fruit? Is it not the joy of the mother bird, when after all her watchings, and tremblings, and flutterings over the nest, she sees her little ones begin to fly, and become capable of answering the end of Divine Providence in their creation? Is it not the joy of the Christian instructor, when, after hours, and days, and months, and years spent in warning, teaching, guiding, praying for, and affectionately superintending the young pupil's best interests—that pupil proves a living commentary on the precepts received, grows in grace, and love, and humility, and activity, and obedience, and as a bud of promise cheers the hearts of surrounding friends with prospects of usefulness through life in all its relative circumstances?

"If such be the ingredients of birthday joy, when duly estimated, may I be gratified in expressing my joy today; and can you also participate in joy thus appreciated? God bless you, my dear H, on this day, and on every day. Time flies, opportunity flies, the school-hour flies, childhood flies, all things are hastening to a grand consummation—what a solemn thought! May my child conceive and cherish it to the glory of God, and her own everlasting consolation. May Christ become to her a gracious Savior, received, loved and honored by her. Such is the prayer of her affectionate father.
 

On an occasion of indisposition, Mr. Richmond's writes again.

"Dear H,
My anxious wish for your spiritual and temporal welfare induces me to express my thoughts to you in these little notes. I cannot tell you how much I desire that this season of sickness may be blessed of God to your present and everlasting good. This thought is continually before me, and I pray constantly to him, that you may be inwardly strengthened by the power of his might. Examine yourself. Prove yourself. Bring your heart and all your thoughts before God, and make a solemn surrender of yourself to him. Employ with gratitude and patience, the means which are prescribed for your recovery—but trust in him alone. Physicians can do nothing without his blessing on their medicines.

"I thank God for your last note, and shall be much pleased when you can and will write me another. Above all things be much in prayer—in the watches of the night speak to God—in the events of the day, tell him how much you need and depend on him. In moments of weakness, ask him for strength; in seasons of pain, petition for contentment. He will from his riches, abundantly supply your need. But you must deal faithfully with yourself, and humbly and perseveringly with him. Be not content with merely saying, "Christ died for sinners." Try to get an evidence that you have a personal interest in him. This may be known by the state of your heart towards him. "We love him—because he first loved us." His love produces love, and our love to him proves that he has loved, and does love us. Are you ignorant? He is wisdom. Are you guilty? He is righteousness. Are you unholy? He is sanctification. Are you a captive? He is redemption. What is he not to the sinner? his strength is perfect in the believer's weakness, He was tempted in all points like as we are, and therefore knows how to support those who are tempted. Oh my child! if you can only cleave to him, and all that he is, and all he has promised to be, nothing can harm you. Meditate on these things, and may God make them quite and entirely your own.

"Now for a text for reflection, 'In all our afflictions—he was afflicted.' Not a pang ever distressed our bodies, nor a trial our hearts—but Jesus has felt it, and he not only felt it in himself—but he feels it for and in us. What a consolation is here? This thought has supported thousands in their trouble. May it support you. Behold Christ in everything, see him everywhere, acknowledge him in every trial; for he sympathizes in all the trials of those who are his. They have not one pain too many. Even sufferings will all work together for good to those who love him. I wished my loved H may see, feel, believe, and enjoy this encouraging thought, and make it her own. God love and bless you. So prays
Your affectionate father,

 

On another occasion he writes—

"Dear love,
'The heart of man is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it?' So said the prophet of old, and so will everyone say, who knows the plague of his own heart. I want you to employ your whole time now in studying your heart, that you may increasingly feel your need of a Savior. Who else can cleanse your heart—but he who died for its salvation. Do not be contented with a little religion, a little knowledge, a little hope. Press forward to the enjoyment of a great and gracious religion, much knowledge of Christ, and a glorious hope full of immortality. I am indeed most anxious that you may now in right earnest seek and find the Lord. "What must I do to be saved?" Is a great question. How shall my deceitful heart be renewed? Whenever I die, where shall I go? are all questions connected with it. Ask God with all your heart for a right answer.
Your affectionate father,
 

This letter was followed by another under the same circumstances.

"Dear Child,
Your reminding me not to forget to write to you, leads me to hope that you read my little notes with a desire to profit by them. You do not know how anxious I am for your soul's good. What God designs for you in this present illness, I know not—but this I know, that you cannot be too earnest about your eternal state. You cannot mourn for sin too deeply. You cannot love Christ too affectionately. You cannot trust in his blood and righteousness too firmly. I want you to be a monument of mercy; a believing, loving, praying child. If God is pleased to restore you to health, may you adorn the doctrine which you have been taught, and if he should see good to remove you to another world; O may you sleep sweetly in Jesus. Be much in prayer. "Seek and you shall find." No favor is too great for God to grant. You are past the age of childish ignorance, and are now an accountable being.

"My H, nothing will satisfy me, short of your being a true child of God. What effect have recent events produced on your mind? What desires, what fears, what hopes, what views of sin and Christ? May God make you a joy to
Your affectionate father,

 

In the year 1825 an offer of marriage was made to this daughter, of which Mr. Richmond's expressed his cordial approbation in the following short note.

"My dear Friend,
On consulting my wife, and our dear H, they both agree, that the beginning of July is the earliest period at which the object in view can be accomplished. So leaving it in their hands, I simply put my seal of approbation and consent to their decision; and I do so with a heart full of love and esteem for you both. May God bless your prospects, and your souls in them. I love all my children too well not to say, that in committing H into your hands, I give you one of my cherished treasures, and sources of domestic endearment. I feel parting with my daughter the more, from the removal of my loved, my much-loved Wilberforce. His death, with all its affecting associations, has had a peculiar, I trust a very useful effect, upon all my feelings, sentiments, ministries, prospects, and thoughts for time and eternity. The subject is wound up with my heart's experience, in a way I can never describe. I pray God to overrule it for the present and eternal good of myself and dear family.
Yours very truly and affectionately,

 

Previous to the marriage of his daughter, Mr. Richmond put into her hands a paper of directions for her future conduct, which, for simplicity, affection, and sound practical wisdom, may be considered one of the best dowries that a Christian parent could bestow on his child.

The paper is entitled, "Marriage Admonitions to H—from her affectionate father,

"My much-loved daughter,
When your sister Mary left her paternal roof, I gave her a paper of admonitions, which I requested her sometimes to read for her own and for her father's sake. I do the same for you, in the form of a friendly string of maxims, to regulate your conduct in your new and very responsible situation.

"1st. Aim at keeping a devoted heart for God in the least and most common transactions of every hour; as well as in those events which may seem to call the loudest for manifestations of Christian conscience and principle.

"2d. Pray regularly and frequently, not seldom and occasionally, for grace to live and die by.

"3d. Remember the Christian principles and examples of your father's house, and everywhere endeavor to preserve its character, by consistency in conduct, conversation, and temper.

"4th. Form no hasty friendship; and none whatever but such as may promote seriousness of heart, tongue and life.

"5th. Beware of cheerfulness degenerating into levity.

"6th. Guard against hasty judgments of character, and above all against hastily uttering sentiments, and making remarks to the disparagement of others.

"7th. Wherever you are, in the first place, remember that God's eye is upon you; and then imagine also that your husband and father are present. It may be a fanciful—but it is a profitable supposition.

"8th. Keep in constant recollection—the wise, prudent, and conscientious example of your dear mother. Be cautious when in religious company, and endeavor to sustain a deportment which may induce the excellent of the earth to desire your society for their own sake as well as yours.

"9th. Particularly avoid making the errors, failings, faults, or follies of good people, either in private or public matters, the subject of rash and unguarded remarks. Be known for charity, forbearance, and kindness.

"10th. Keep Christ's golden rule, "Do unto to others as you would have them do to you" in perpetual remembrance—it is the panacea for most of the social evils of life.

"11th. Entertain no unfounded prejudices against nations, churches, sects, or parties; they are the bane of truth, charity, and comfort, and are directly opposed to the letter and spirit of Christianity. You may and ought to have a conscientious, well-founded preference—but not one half-formed or ill-formed prejudice against any one.

"12th. Be conscientious towards all; friendly with few; intimate with fewer still; strictly confidential with fewest of all.

"13th. From the hour you marry, you assume the character of a wife. Do not be a childish, girlish, wife. The vows of God are upon you, sustain their gravity and prudence in all things.

"14th. If circumstances and friendly connections lead you into the superintendence of charitable institutions, enter upon your office with prayer and consideration, and persevere in the discharge of its duties with patience and well-guided zeal.

"15th. Let no natural vivacity of temper, no occasionally-indulged sallies of humor and jocularity—throw a shadow over the exercise of solid principle. Little foolish things give a color to character, and are more easily imitated, than grave and good sentiments.

"16th. All eyes are sure to be fixed on a young wife—beware of, while you conform to, that sort of bridal publicity, which is necessarily connected with every circle of residents and acquaintance.

"17th. Choose female friends with circumspection—many civil, hospitable, agreeable people, are far from being improving companions. We may owe and pay them the debt of civility, kindness, and gratitude—and yet not be obliged to give them too much of our time and affection. Two or three truly godly women form a circle sufficiently large for profitable friendship.

"18th. In every circle of acquaintance, however small, you will find more or less of party spirit prejudice, and too great freedom of remark on people and circumstances connected with them; beware of joining in these. Be slow to judge—rather than swift to speak. The best Christians often fail here.

"19th. You are much given to laughter, my dear child—and many a hearty laugh I have enjoyed with you. I would not turn your laughter into sorrow; but this propensity may prove a snare to you. Watch and be jealous of it; banish what looks like giggling, lightness, and folly; and cultivate a holy cheerfulness and simplicity of manner, in all companies.

"20th. Never forget that you are entering an entire circle of strangers, and that a very few weeks or months will establish your character among them.

"Once more, I say, think of your father's house and reputation. "When I look upon myself and all that belongs to me, I feel ashamed of my own feeble, faint attempts to serve God, and adorn his gospel; yet the Christian world has attached to them, however undeservedly, a value; and by the name and character of their father—will my children be tried and appreciated.

"21st. Keep indelibly engraved on your heart the affecting scenes of last January. A dying brother's faithful admonitions—his last words, his last looks of mortal affection. Our household never witnessed the likes of this; and was never so tried. The memorials dwell on my heart with increasing poignancy. I say less—but I feel more; there is a solemn, silent, softening, and subduing influence—which often overwhelms me. May you retain a vivid recollection, with a perpetual blessing, of that day when our Wilberforce fled from earth to heaven.

"22nd. Be especially attentive to the opinion which your demeanor may inspire among your husband's relations. No doubt he has praised you before them—endeavor to prove in all points that he has done you no more than justice; much family peace and love depends upon this.

"23rd. There are many excellent hints in the book entitled, "A Whisper to a New Married Pair." I recommend them to your perusal; and there are many more excellent hints to wives and women in the Bible, from Solomon, Paul, and Peter; study them well.

"24th. When you think of your father, bear with his infirmities and pardon his faults—but remember his principles and instructions, so far as they have been agreeable to the will of God.

"25th. Do not be content with anything short of deep, devoted, diligent, decided seriousness. Do not make the too numerous, half-hearted and decent—but dubious Christians, your patterns for imitation. Set your mark and standard very high, and aim deliberately to regulate your conduct by it.

"26th. If you and your husband happen to differ in opinion or feeling on any point—remember whom you have promised to love, honor, and obey, and this will settle all things.

"27th. Of your husband's warm affections towards you, I entertain no doubt—strive to preserve them by daily elevation of character—not so much by fondness—as by prudence and dignity. Study his character, he will study yours. May you both learn to raise a fabric of marital happiness by mutual wisdom and love.

"28th. I trust you are taught in the school of Christ; rely not, however, on the past privileges of education, but seek present evidences, such as will comfort you under sudden alarms and distresses, should they occur. Try to get acquainted with yourself by a review of your whole life, and often carry to the Lord, in prayer and confidence—the results of an examination into your heart and conduct.

"29th. Observe great simplicity and plainness in dress. You should be a pattern to others in these respects; there is a just complaint made of many females who profess to be pious, that they are far too showy and mirthful in their outward apparel. Remember the apostle Peter's injunction, "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight."

"30th. Never think yourself too old to learn; the most valuable period of education is perhaps from twenty to forty years of age. The matured mind—is fittest to become the little child.

"31st. You are bidding farewell to your father's house, the home of your infancy, childhood, and youth; yet the remembrance of the principles in which you have been educated, should follow you through life, wherever Divine Providence may see fit to call you. May they be a guide to you at all times, and a consolation to you in your final removal from a sinful and changing world.

"Christ has been made known to you fully and freely; let Christ be your all in all, both now and forever. Receive my parting advice in love, and be assured, my beloved child, it comes from the affectionate heart of your dear father,

 

A short time before her marriage, Miss H. paid a visit to me. I was gratified in discovering in a young woman, not yet twenty years of age, so much thought and good sense on the subjects of our conversation. In common with the rest of her family, she entertained a deep sense of her father's affection, consistency, and uniform concern for the spiritual welfare of his children.

When I adverted to her responsibility on the ground of past privileges, and to the necessity of a personal application of the principles in which she had been educated, she observed, "I know that true religion requires something more of me than respect for my father," and she then proceeded to state to me some of the perplexities of her mind on certain doctrines, which led me to remark that young people were apt to begin where they should end, and as an old author has quaintly said, wish "to matriculate at the university of election, before they have passed through the grammar-school of repentance and faith." I advised her to lay aside the consideration of the deep things of God. These, said I, are far beyond the range of a young disciple. The time may arrive when such subjects may be studied with advantage, for it is a great mistake to suppose that God has revealed anything which is unserviceable to his church, or needless to be understood—but infancy, youth, and manhood are not to be fed with the same foods. I have no wish to conceal from you that my mind is made up on these subjects, though I am far from being confident in the certainty of my own conclusions on points which are debatable and still debated among good and wise men; but I feel no hesitation in dissuading you from employing your thoughts on speculations, which at present will retard rather than aid your progress. To ascertain your conversion, and the reality of your piety, by the plain practical tests of the Bible, ought to be your chief and indeed only concern. Admit that God calls, and keeps, and alone can bring you to heaven, and you know all that is essential to your salvation."

"Yes—but if God does not call"—

"Then call on him—-'Turn me, O good Lord—and so shall I be turned.'"

We made a transition to her approaching marriage. I alluded to her pleasing prospect of being united to a man of principle and piety, and to the satisfaction her father had expressed in the anticipation of that event. She requested me to converse with her on the duties of her new relation.

You entertain, my dear young friend, no doubt—the usual expectations of happiness in married life, and I do not wish to damp them. But I am compelled to acknowledge that I have not witnessed much marital felicity. People jog on in life, because they cannot do otherwise; if they are not indifferent to each other, nor annoy each other by contention and ill-humor, they still appear to me to derive but little satisfaction from their marriage connection—little in comparison with what the relation is intended and calculated to inspire.

"What are the usual causes of the disappointment in such cases?"

Shall we say that there is lack of affinity of character in the parties—that the connection has been formed on some selfish calculation—that a mutual though not designed deception has been practiced—that greater demands are made than a fallen nature can answer—that people are more tenacious of their rights—than of their duties, and forget that affection needs cultivation as much or more, after than before marriage?

All these causes are fatal to marital happiness; yet where they may not exist, much uneasiness often arises in married life, from a disregard to the principles of God in that relation. Reference should be made to his rule and appointment. It is true he has made the man a sort of autocrat—the head of a house, to superintend and direct every important movement in it. But though entrusted with the chief power, he is responsible to God for the use he makes of it. Authority is granted to no one for the purpose of mere self-gratification. The trust is abused when it is perverted to this end. Man is constituted the head, for the good of the members; and he must rule with tenderness, forbearance, and affection. Matthew Henry has prettily expressed the idea, "God made woman out of man's side. Not out of his head—to rule; nor out of his feet—to be trampled on; but out of his rib—which lies near his heart, to be loved and cherished." And when man forgets that his reign is the dominion of love, he provokes God, by an abuse, and misuse of power, to resign his house to disorder and rebellion.

The wife has also her place. She is equal in nature—but not in relation. She must shine by reflection; and will suffer an eclipse in her dignity, and bankruptcy in her happiness, whenever she sets up for herself, and affects equality and independence. Her earthly hopes and satisfactions should emanate from her husband—and center in him. The rule of duty for a Christian wife is, "in and for the Lord." Her obedience must not vary with the capricious influences of feeling—but rest on the firmer basis of conformity to the ordinance of God. Affection may make duty delightful—but it is not the foundation of it. When a wife has just reason to disapprove of her husband's conduct, she may reason and remonstrate; occasions may unhappily arise in which conscience requires dissent, and even disobedience; but in general it is a woman's privilege, as well as duty, to call her husband "lord," and to keep within the limits which God has wisely and graciously appointed.

My young friend thanked me for my instructions, which she assured me were in unison with her own views, and that she meant to enter on her new relation with these principles.

The interval between her marriage and early death might have been more fully described by one who is best able to appreciate her conduct. But motives of delicacy and regard to his feelings have restrained me from making an application to him, and led me to prefer the insertion of an extract from her mother's letter. Mrs. Richmond writes—

"Her time was chiefly spent in the retired duties of domestic life. She seldom engaged in anything of a public nature. She became a most exemplary and conscientious wife—a fond and tender mother to her little boy, whom she regarded with concern, and was preparing to train in the principles and piety of her dear father. Increasingly beloved by her husband, whose comfort and happiness on his return from his daily and laborious occupations, she assiduously studied to promote. Her short day of life sweetly glided on, and, like the flower of the desert, she attracted little notice beyond the immediate circle of the few friends to whom she attached herself."

In September, 1828, she gave birth to her second child. An account of the event and its afflictive results, was communicated at the time in the letter which follows—

"I saw our poor H on the afternoon after the birth of her child. She then appeared extremely well, and nursing a sweet infant with a mother's joy. On Wednesday she complained of pain, and passed a very restless night. The next day her husband called in a physician, who seemed uneasy at her symptoms, and ordered the utmost quiet, particularly requesting that no one should speak of her danger, or say anything to excite or agitate her mind. On Friday she grew worse and inquired if there was danger, expressing her own conviction that she would not recover. Her friends, in compliance with the strict injunctions of the medical man, discouraged her inquiries, and endeavored to draw her mind to other subjects. But in reply, she said, "Is this kind—to keep my thoughts from eternity? Can I think too much of death?" She then inquired for me, and desired that I might be sent for. Aware of the great change in her appearance, as I entered the room, she kept her eyes shut, remarking to the nurse, "I will keep my eyes shut, I shall be so agitated at seeing my dear sister's distress, she will see me so changed."

She was indeed changed; her countenance which only a week before had the bright hue of health, was now pale and wan. Oh! my dear sister—how awful is the execution of the sentence, 'The soul that sins—it shall die!' Even where Christ has taken away the sting, the expiring agony of death is terrible. Is it not a strange infatuation, that our latter moments should ever be absent from our thoughts—that we can trifle where we ought to tremble, and be comparatively indifferent to the only event which is of real importance to us?"

"I was earnestly requested, before I went into the sick room, to show no alarm at her danger, and to avoid conversing upon death. But I gazed at her marble countenance for a few moments, and all hope of her life fled. The particular appearance of death cannot be mistaken, and I resolved to speak plainly to her of her situation. But she began of her own accord. She put her hand into mine as I sat down beside her.

"We meet as dying sisters this time."

"Dear H," I replied, "Tell me how you feel."

"I feel that in a few hours I must stand before the judgment-seat of Christ and there render an account of all the deeds done in the body, and my sins press heavy upon me. Sister, talk to me about death. I

shall not recover. I have felt assured of this from the first—but no one will talk to me; even my dear husband shrinks from it; but I must speak of death now. I hope you will converse with me." I assured her of my intention and willingness to do so, and I began to inquire into the state of her mind. She lamented her sad neglect of religion in days past, that she had greatly failed to improve opportunities, and had grievously put off preparation for a dying hour. "Now, dear sister,

I feel the value of time—now I see why I was sent into this world—my whole life ought to have been a preparation for this hour. Oh! dear, dear sister, how my time has been trifled away!"

She seemed exceedingly distressed at these recollections, and particularly referred to the instructions and example of our dear father—and expressed in the strongest terms her gratitude to him for teaching her to honor true religion from her infancy. "Now I feel his worth. Oh, what a father we had—how his prayers and entreaties, and holy example rise before me. I never, never can express my love for my father. On my death-bed I have learned his value! On my deathbed I have learned my responsibilities for such a parent. I shall soon have to answer for many things—but I have most to answer for, in having had such a parent. I have enjoyed unparalleled mercies through childhood and youth Oh! I have much—very much to answer for. If I am saved, it will indeed he a miracle of miracles; but sister, I have a hope, and I cannot give up hope—Christ is my hope; his blood can cleanse me from my sins, and for his sake even I may find pardon."

She then named several of her friends and relations whom she thought would be shocked at the news of her early and unexpected death. She sent kind messages to them. The poor people of Turvey, and recollections of the home of her youth, seemed much in her thoughts, and deeply affected her. "Sister, give my affectionate love to them all. Turvey is very dear to me." The state of one of her intimate friends distressed her. "How I regret (alluding to this lady) that our conversation and friendship has been so little profitable to either of us. I wish I could see before I die. I have much I want to say to her. I want to press piety on her mind. Oh that I could see her, a real Christian before I die."

She spoke much of her dear aunt, who had kindly nursed her all the week with the patient tenderness and affection of a mother. "I hope my beloved aunt knows Christ and his doctrines. I think I shall meet her in heaven." She entreated me to explain the nature of religion to the nurse, "I am too weak to talk to her now—but I hope you will, dear sister—I am afraid she has not a right knowledge of true religion. She has been telling me, there can be no doubt of my going to heaven, because I am so good and amiable. Oh! this is false! this is error! this is no foundation to build on for eternity! Explain to her the nature of sin, and salvation by Christ. I cannot bear the thought of leaving that kind and faithful creature in ignorance. I have been talking to," alluding to one of the servants, "and have tried to show her the importance of preparing for early death. I wish I had strength to speak to nurse also."

She then returned to the subject of her own death, "Oh! I am frightened when I think of dying. I have not accustomed myself to think of dying as I ought to have done." I suggested to her mind what appeared to me best suited to her case—that Christ was our lamp in that dreary valley—our strong consolation in the bitter pains of death. She replied, "I can trust Christ with my soul. I can hope he will pardon and save it; but I feel alarmed about the bodily pains of death—they are fearful in prospect; but I will not dwell on the future—it disturbs me. I will trust God." I said, "When Jesus had overcome the sharpness of death,"—interrupting me she exclaimed with great emotion, "He opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers."

She now referred to Wilberforce, and said, "Poor Willy went through this awful time before me—but all was safe and happy with him. I trust it will be so with me. My dear, dear father—he has also gone through death. None of us know what sorrow he endured in that awful hour. He was indeed a loss to us all—but I am now glad he is gone before me."

The prospect of leaving her infants, agitated her mind throughout the day. "To be left without a mother! Oh this is hard! Oh! God take care of my poor babes!" Her chief conversation about the children was with her husband, and I believe she gave him many directions about their education.

On Saturday my mother arrived; H was too ill to converse with her—but she assured her that her own mind was in peace. My sister appeared to be dying the whole of Saturday night—but very gradually. She begged we would all leave the room, as the evening came on, and that she might be left alone with her husband, who sat the whole of the night beside her, to converse as her strength would permit.

At six o'clock on Sunday morning, she desired that we might be called into the room. We found her husband supporting her in his arms; death was on her countenance, she breathed with difficulty and was quite cold.

She said, "I wish to see my doctor. When he came, she inquired of him—how long she might live; he said, "Perhaps three hours." She requested her husband to send for Mr. W __. On his arrival, she exerted her last strength to converse with him—but their conversation was carried on in so low a tone that I could not catch the whole. I heard my sister question Mr. W most earnestly about a true and a false faith, and whether he thought her faith sincere and genuine. He spoke very decidedly of the safety of her state, and she appeared to receive comfort from his opinion. At her request he administered the Lord's Supper.

We knelt round her bed in silence and deep anguish. She clasped her hands, and seemed to be in earnest prayer the whole time. At the conclusion she thanked Mr. W and said, "You have refreshed me in body and mind. This is the hour of extremity—but Christ is all." She then became much distressed, and struggled hard for breath, and in a little time asked for her children. When the eldest was brought, she clasped him for a moment to her bosom, and said, "This boy has been my idol!" She next begged that the infant might be brought to her. "I want to see if I can bring my will to God's will." The babe was placed in her arms, she looked at it, was much agitated, and exclaimed, "Oh! take it away, take it away, I cannot bear this! O God! take care of my darling babe!" She followed it with her eyes as the nurse carried it away, and seemed to be in prayer for it.

She then took leave of each of us separately. To her mother she said, "I shall soon be with my dear papa!" The interview with her husband was very affecting. She was most ardently attached to him; she desired him to kneel down and commit her soul to God in the agony of departure. Presently she whispered, "I cannot hear now." Then, "My sight is failing—Oh! this is death!" She begged we would keep perfect silence, and lay her straight down on the bed. We stood motionless and gazing on her. She made several attempts to speak—but in vain—but I heard her breathe out very faintly, "Now it begins to look lovely!" A moment after, fixing her eyes upward, and smiling with a placid countenance, she drew a last deep breath—and all was hushed in silence!

Are we not allowed to believe that my sister has joined angels and archangels, and all the company of heaven? Her short and painful illness afforded less scope for the exercises and evidences of a renewed heart, than we witnessed in the last hours of our beloved Wilberforce. Yet here we have not been left to sorrow as without hope. "Beloved for the father's sake," seemed inscribed in characters of mercy on her deathbed. The effect of her pious education and early acquaintance with the principles of true religion could not be mistaken. Her father's prayers and unwearied and affectionate solicitude for his child's spiritual welfare—the "line upon line—and precept upon precept," which he pressed on her mind; together with poor Willy's earnest addresses and entreaties in his dying hour, seemed to recur to her with new force, and poured a flood of light, conviction and consolation on her soul, leading her in penitence and faith to rest all her hopes on that one atoning sacrifice, which was once made for sin by the Lamb of God, in whose precious blood all transgression, known and unknown, is washed away forever.
Believe me, I am your most affectionate, etc."

I would not be thought to cast a shadow on the hopes so affectionately expressed in the above letter, the subject of which is, I trust, a happy spirit in heaven. Yet I feel it necessary, as a Christian minister, to add a few beneficial cautions, especially to young people against too exclusive a reliance on what may take place in our latter moments. The Scripture makes an appeal to living hours and holy fruits—and these are the tests on which we can most safely depend. The gold passes through the fire, and the result of the purifying process alone determines its character. It is the language of inspiration, "As a man sows so shall he reap."

Let me remind those young people whose opinions are correct—but who are conscious that their hearts are yet far from God—not to run the hazard, the tremendous hazard, of losing their souls, by delay; nor expect peace and safety at last—unless they are now seeking to lay up the support of a faith which works by love and obedience.

It is the tenor of the whole life—not that of the few suffering scenes which precede death, which fixes the character. We are not authorized by Scripture to place any dependence on the last periods of sinking nature, through which the Christian may be called to pass to his eternal reward.

 

Concluding Remarks

In reviewing what has now been submitted to the public, there seems little need of further comment, since it is probable that the intelligent reader has anticipated every suggestion which I might be disposed to offer.

Of Mr. Richmond's plans for the education of his children, I must leave the Christian parent to form his own opinion; observing that whether he adopts them in whole or in part, he should never forget that instruction, however large or correct, is not education; that true piety consists not in form, in its most scrupulous use; nor in a speculation, claiming the bare assent and approval of the mind; nor in any influence occasionally to be felt. It is a principle pervading every faculty of a man's moral nature. True religion is estimated far below its real character, when it is regarded as an affair of dutiful necessity—or as a medicine taken for ulterior relief—rather than as a well-spring of life and health, to which the soul turns for satisfaction and delight, and without which it can neither be peaceful nor happy. The truths of Scripture may be taught in their utmost purity—and yet, unless their spirit is transfused into the affections of the heart, and the habits of the life—they will fall short of the effect and design of real Christianity. Mere knowledge of religion, without a corresponding feeling and practice, often issues in a fatal apathy, and forms a character which becomes at last impervious to every sacred impression. It has been well said, that "to handle holy things without feeling, is to be hardened in the end."

It has been clearly shown on what principle Mr. Richmond conducted his plan of education; that his grand aim was to touch the heart—and to make duty and delight synonymous. Yet some caution is necessary in the exclusive application of strictly religious principles. There a variety of motives which act most beneficially to present advantage, and which impose powerful restraints on the impulses of a corrupt nature; and if we strip a youth of all regard for his interest or reputation, we expose him, in the absence of higher motives, to be driven along by the current of his own passions, until he makes shipwreck of all that is valuable for this world and the next. To this neglect of inferior motives I am disposed to ascribe the misconduct of many children of religious parents; and it therefore becomes an inquiry of no small importance (though of difficult and delicate character,) whether the entire disuse of subordinate influences is wise, or even safe in a course of pious education. May we not be guided in this inquiry by the sanction of the supreme Ruler himself; who, while he taught the more excellent way—yet formed laws for human conduct, and held out motives for obedience, not always the best in themselves—but the best in reference to the circumstances and capacities of his creatures.

Nor am I inclined to reject any influence for the present advantage, in which there is nothing opposed to the spirit or the dictates of religion. Another circumstance which is often undervalued in education, is the establishment of good habits; and that, too, prior to the full admission of godly principles. Habits, it is true, are formed by a series of actions, and actions must spring from principles of some kind; but the principle at first may be little more than custom or imitation—yet are the habits valuable, as preparing a future powerful cooperation with right principle; for nothing proves a greater obstacle to truth in opinion, than error in conduct. There is a deep and intimate knowledge of the influence of habit in that declaration of our blessed Lord, "If any man will do the will of my heavenly Father—he shall know of the doctrine, whether it is from God." John 7:17.

Corrupt practice is a fruit of darkness, and increases darkness; and though correct habits are not the cause of divine light, they prepare the soil for the heavenly seed, and clear away the weeds and thorns which would check its vegetation, and retard its growth. The language which reflects on human agency as useless, and even presumptuous, until a divine power has commenced its mighty operation, is not in accordance with reason or Scripture; and a propensity to form systems, and distort the doctrines of religion, is often connected with indolence and selfishness, which shrink from the labor of instruction.

Mr. Richmond's great care to regulate the private friendships of his children, is another feature in his system of education which deserves particular attention. It is evident, from one remark in his own memoranda, that he intended to have urged this topic in the projected memoir of his son, "The great value of scientific and rational amusement, in supplying materials for good and useful conversation."

The unprofitable manner in which the hours of social fellowship are too often spent, has been lamented by many. It may not be desirable, nor is it always profitable, to introduce strictly pious subjects on every occasion. Sacred things should be handled with reverence and feeling, or we shall be in danger of making an unholy use of that which is holy. But it is very possible to converse on ordinary things in the spirit of piety; we may aim to improve ourselves or others, and not merely pass away the time in idle or vain discourse. We cannot be walking with God, in a heavenly tender frame of mind, or with any just sense of our position, as standing on the brink of eternity, while we propose to ourselves no higher object than amusement—no accession of ideas, nor elevation of devout affections. Can our communications "administer grace to the hearer," when, if written down—would shame a wise man, and distress the mind of a sincere Christian?

There is also, with young and old, a prevalent and bad habit, of talking about people, rather than about things. This is seldom innocent, and often pregnant with many evils. Such conversation insensibly slides into detraction; and by dwelling on offences, we expose our own souls to contagion, and are betrayed into feelings of pride, envy, and jealousy. And even when we speak of others in terms of commendation, we are sure to come in with a 'but' at the last, and drive a nail into our neighbor's reputation!

The disuse of good conversation proceeds from poverty of ideas, no less than from lack of heart-religion. People select light and trivial subjects, because they have no materials for a higher interchange of sentiment. If more pains were taken to cultivate the mind, there would be less difficulty in speaking to edification; and less need of having recourse to amusements, which differ little in their effect and influence from others, which, by common consent, have been denounced as inconsistent with vital religion.

If the "Domestic Portraiture" should fall into the hands of any one who has been accustomed to associate the idea of folly and delusion with a serious profession of piety—he may observe in what is here detailed, that a sincere Christian, may be a man of taste and intelligence; and that it is not necessary to be illiterate or fanatic to believe the Bible, and regulate a family in accordance with its principles; but that elegant accomplishments and a befitting attention to the usages of society, as far as they are innocent or useful, may be found in alliance with the warmest devotion and most conscientious regard to the laws of God.

In bidding farewell to this little work, which I have now brought to a conclusion, one thought enters my mind and produces deep emotion. I have increased the responsibilities of Mr. Richmond's family—by holding them up to public observation. Wherever the present volume may obtain circulation, their father's honor, and—a still more important consideration—their father's principles, will be ultimately connected with their conduct, and the value of them be appreciated by their effects. His eye is no longer upon them, nor his bright example before them; neither has every member of his family enjoyed the full benefit of his affectionate and careful superintendence. But I am persuaded that the traces he has left, are too deeply engraved ever to be erased from their remembrance; and that a father's blessing will follow them to the last hour of their earthly pilgrimage. It is my heart's desire and prayer to God, that they may retain a lively recollection of his instructions, and continue to walk worthy of their vocation, irreprovable and without rebuke, until they rejoin their departed relatives, and with them, "praise God for such a father!"