The Wrekin was a favourite object; to its summit he made his annual pilgrimage, together with his family, his Dale relations, his clerks, and most of the members of the little Society of Friends. The following bit of landscape painting betrays a master hand, and is so faithful in itself, depicting no less the features of the country than the genius of his mind, that we incorporate it with our present sketch:—
“We went upon the Wrekin,” he writes, “sooner than usual this year, that my children might partake of the pleasure. The weather was pleasant, though rather windy. From the top of that hill the prospect is so rich, so extensive, so various, that, considered as a landscape only, it beggars all description; and yet I cannot forbear, as thou desirest it, mentioning the tufted trees in the adjoining woods, upon which, occasioned perhaps by the uncommonness of the scene, I always look down with a particular pleasure, as well as survey those more distant, which are interspersed among the corn and meadows, contrasted with the new-ploughed fallow-grounds and pastures with cattle; the towns and villages, gentlemen’s seats, farm-houses, enrich and diversify the prospect, whilst the various companies of harvest men in the different farms within view enliven the scene. Nor are the rivers that glitter among the laughing meadows, or the stupendous mountains which, though distant, appear awfully dreary without their effect considered part of the landscape only. But not to confine the entertainment to visual enjoyment, what an intellectual feast does the prospect from that hill afford when beheld, ‘or with the curious or pious eye.’ Is not infinite power exerted, and infinite goodness displayed, in the various as well as plentiful provision for our several wants. Should not the consideration expand over hearts with desires to contribute to the relief of those whose indigence, excluding them from an equal participation of the general feast, is for a trial of their faith and patience and of our gratitude and obedience! Whilst with an appropriation of sentiment which receives propriety from the consciousness of our unworthiness, we substitute a particular for the general exclamation of humble admiration, in the word of the psalmist—‘Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him? or the son of man that thou (thus) visitest him?’ The romantic scenes of Benthall Edge,—its rocks and precipices, its sides and top covered with wood; the navigable Severn, in which its feet are immersed; the populousness of the opposite shore; the motion, noise, and life on the river; the adjoining wharves and manufactories, are capable of affording a high entertainment, and I should willingly devote one day in the year to a repetition of the enjoyments of the pleasures I have heretofore received from them: though equally near, and equally desirable, a jaunt to Benthall Edge is not equally facile with one to the Wrekin. It seems more out of my province.”
Our readers, ere this, must have discovered a power of description, a grace and polish, blended with a masculine force of thought, in the correspondence of Mr. Reynolds, of a more than common order; and would still more, could we feel at liberty to quote more copiously from numerous letters to his friends. If we follow him more closely into private life, and lift the veil that too often hides a dualism of character from the unsuspicious public eye, we find the sterling elements of the gentleman and the Christian.
Take the experience of the past as recorded, or the traditions of the present, as found among a generation second in remove from Richard Reynolds’s time, and they bring out into relief still more striking traits of character, that do honour to our common nature. The guiding principle of his life, in all cases of bargain and of sale, Mrs. Rathbone tells us, were in accordance with the old adage—“Live and let live;” and as an instance of the consistency with which he acted up to his motto she adds that, at the breaking out of the American war, when bar-iron rose to an extravagant price, and the makers of pig-iron could obtain their own terms, instead of taking an unreasonable advantage of the opportunity, he proposed to his customers that it should be left to one of themselves to name a fair price for pig-iron in the then state of the trade, and to determine the scale of proportionate reduction which should take place when the price of bar-iron should fall, as he foresaw that it would follow the then great and unsatisfied demand. The proposal was accepted, and by the scale which was then fixed his conduct was governed.
Order and punctuality were exemplified in his dealings. “A place for everything and everything in its place”—a maxim for which he confessed his obligation to De Witt—was not only his rule, but was painted in large characters in the kitchen, over the fireplace, for the benefit of the servants. The appellation “honest,” given to his father, was a term equally applicable to the son, who at the outset and in after life made it a rule to regulate his affairs by that principle of prudence and of equity.
He yielded to every man his own, not only as concerned demands upon his purse, but in what are usually deemed small matters, such as those of respect which one man owes to another. He would follow a poor person to his or her home to apologise if he had spoken warmly or unbecomingly in the heat of temper. It was painful, his granddaughter tells us, for him to see waste. “I cannot bear to see sweeping on the ground that which would clothe a poor shivering child” was his remark made respecting the long dresses of the time.
Mrs. Rathbone, in her memoir, says:—
“My grandfather had great respect and regard for a very amiable and excellent minister of the Gospel, who lived in his neighbourhood, the Rev. Joshua Gilpin; and it was mainly through his exertions and personal interest that Mr. Gilpin was presented to the living of Wrockwardine. He also enjoyed the acquaintance of many scientific and well-informed men. His manners, as a host, were courteous and dignified, and his conversation, when he was perfectly at ease, animated, and often diversified with a quaint wit and humorous satire. His fine countenance beamed with intelligence and kindness; his eyes were piercing, and were remarkable for the brightness which seemed literally to flash from them under strong emotion. It was something almost fearful to meet their glance in anger or indignation, whilst equally striking was their beautiful expression under the excitement of admiration or affection.”
In the short sketch we gave of Mr. Reynolds in the “Severn Valley,” we said, “the stamp of heaven’s nobility was visible in his face, and the free and open features with which nature had endowed his person were not dwarfed by the uniform look and expression sometimes demanded by sects. Eyes of liquid blue, full-orbed, gave back the azure tint of heaven, and lighted up a manly face, fair and ruddy. To these indications of a Saxon type were added others, such as light brown hair, that in flowing curls fell upon the shoulders of a tall and full-developed figure.”
The portrait we have hereafter described was obtained with some difficulty, as Mr. Reynolds refused for a long time to concede to the wishes of his friends on the subject; and the first attempt made was by a miniature-painter, who made a sketch from the garden as he sat reading by candle-light. This was not successful, and a second attempt, made as he sat at meeting, being no better, he was induced to sit to Mr. Hobday. The books shown in the background were favourites of his, and they are arranged in the order in which he regarded them.