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| Caleb Evans 1737-1791 |
From his preface to her works
It may possibly be some gratification to those who have hitherto been ignorant of the real name and character of the pious Theodosia, whose writings have so often cheered their hours of solitude, warmed their hearts with the love of virtue, and the glow of friendship, and animated their devotions in the closet and congregation; to be informed that she was known to her intimates under the name of Mrs. Ann Steele.
Her father was a Dissenting Minister, a man of primitive piety, the strictest integrity and benevolence, and the most amiable simplicity of manners: he was for many years the affectionate and faithful pastor of an affectionate and harmonious congregation, at Broughton, in Hampshire; where he lived all his days beloved, and died universally lamented. Mrs. Ann Steele, his eldest daughter, discovered in early life her love of the muses, and often entertained her friends with the truly poetical and pious productions of her pen; but it was not without extreme reluctance she was prevailed on to submit any of them to the public eye. This new edition of her works, accompanied with the volume which is now first offered to the public, would have appeared long since, had the health of our Theodosia admitted of her paying that attention to it which was necessary. But it was her infelicity, as it has been that of many of her kindred spirits, to have a capacious soaring mind inclosed in a very weak and languid body. Her health was never firm; but the death of her honoured father, to whom she was united by the strongest ties of affectionate duty and gratitude, gave such a shock to her feeble frame, that she never entirely recovered it, though she survived him some years.
Her father was a Dissenting Minister, a man of primitive piety, the strictest integrity and benevolence, and the most amiable simplicity of manners: he was for many years the affectionate and faithful pastor of an affectionate and harmonious congregation, at Broughton, in Hampshire; where he lived all his days beloved, and died universally lamented. Mrs. Ann Steele, his eldest daughter, discovered in early life her love of the muses, and often entertained her friends with the truly poetical and pious productions of her pen; but it was not without extreme reluctance she was prevailed on to submit any of them to the public eye. This new edition of her works, accompanied with the volume which is now first offered to the public, would have appeared long since, had the health of our Theodosia admitted of her paying that attention to it which was necessary. But it was her infelicity, as it has been that of many of her kindred spirits, to have a capacious soaring mind inclosed in a very weak and languid body. Her health was never firm; but the death of her honoured father, to whom she was united by the strongest ties of affectionate duty and gratitude, gave such a shock to her feeble frame, that she never entirely recovered it, though she survived him some years.
Her state of mind upon that awful occasion will best be conceived from the following affecting description of it by herself.
Still bleeds the deep, deep wound!
Where is the friend
To pour with tender, kind, indulgent hand,
The lenient balm of comfort on my heart!
Alas, that friend is gone !—
Yc angels say, Who bore him raptur'd to your blest abode?
Can ought on earth compensate for in\ loss!
Ah, no! the world is poor, and what am I?
A helpless, solitary worm, that creeps
Complaining' oh the earth!
Yet e'en to worms
The care of Heaven extends, and can I doubt
If that indulgent care extends to me?
Father of mercies, trembling at thy feet,
Give me to vent the heart oppressing grief,
And ask for comfort!
Can I ask in vain
Of him whose name is Love?
But O the boon
My craving wishes ask is large indeed!
Yet less will leave me wretched.
Gracious God,
Give me to say without a rising doubt,
"Thou art my Father"— Thy paternal love
Alone can cheer my soul, thy kind compassion
Can ease the load of heart oppressing grief.
O may I know my Father pities me!
And if he pities, sure he will support;
What cannot love Omnipotent effect!
Ah! now one tender, one endearing tie
That held me down to earth, death has torn off
And with it rent my heart-strings - bid me come
To thee my refuge; prostrate at thy feet,
O bid me say, with faith and humble hope
Heal, gracious Father, heal my bleeding heart:
Thy healing hand alone can bring relief
For woes like mine; can bring what most I want,
An humble resignation to thy will.
How hard the lesson! (yet it must be learn'd)
With full consent to say, "Thy will be done."
As the life of Theodosia was, for the most part, a life of retirement in the peaceful village where she began and ended her days; it cannot be expected to furnish such a variety of incidents as arise in the history of those who have moved in circles of greater activity. The duties of friendship and religion occupied her time, and the pleasures of both constituted her delight. Her heart was, ‘apt to feel' too often to a degree too painful for her own felicity; but always with the most tender and generous sympathies for her friends. Yet united with tranquillity, but joy, of her decease. this exquisite sensibility, she possessed a native cheerfulness of disposition; which, not even the uncommon and agonizing pains she endured in the latter part of her life, could deprive her of. In every short interval of abated suffering, she would, in a variety of ways, as well as by her enlivening conversation, give pleasure to all around her. Her life was a life of unaffected humility, warm benevolence, sincere friendship and genuine devotion;–a life which it is not easy truly to describe, or faithfully to imitate.
Still bleeds the deep, deep wound!
Where is the friend
To pour with tender, kind, indulgent hand,
The lenient balm of comfort on my heart!
Alas, that friend is gone !—
Yc angels say, Who bore him raptur'd to your blest abode?
Can ought on earth compensate for in\ loss!
Ah, no! the world is poor, and what am I?
A helpless, solitary worm, that creeps
Complaining' oh the earth!
Yet e'en to worms
The care of Heaven extends, and can I doubt
If that indulgent care extends to me?
Father of mercies, trembling at thy feet,
Give me to vent the heart oppressing grief,
And ask for comfort!
Can I ask in vain
Of him whose name is Love?
But O the boon
My craving wishes ask is large indeed!
Yet less will leave me wretched.
Gracious God,
Give me to say without a rising doubt,
"Thou art my Father"— Thy paternal love
Alone can cheer my soul, thy kind compassion
Can ease the load of heart oppressing grief.
O may I know my Father pities me!
And if he pities, sure he will support;
What cannot love Omnipotent effect!
Ah! now one tender, one endearing tie
That held me down to earth, death has torn off
And with it rent my heart-strings - bid me come
To thee my refuge; prostrate at thy feet,
O bid me say, with faith and humble hope
Heal, gracious Father, heal my bleeding heart:
Thy healing hand alone can bring relief
For woes like mine; can bring what most I want,
An humble resignation to thy will.
How hard the lesson! (yet it must be learn'd)
With full consent to say, "Thy will be done."
As the life of Theodosia was, for the most part, a life of retirement in the peaceful village where she began and ended her days; it cannot be expected to furnish such a variety of incidents as arise in the history of those who have moved in circles of greater activity. The duties of friendship and religion occupied her time, and the pleasures of both constituted her delight. Her heart was, ‘apt to feel' too often to a degree too painful for her own felicity; but always with the most tender and generous sympathies for her friends. Yet united with tranquillity, but joy, of her decease. this exquisite sensibility, she possessed a native cheerfulness of disposition; which, not even the uncommon and agonizing pains she endured in the latter part of her life, could deprive her of. In every short interval of abated suffering, she would, in a variety of ways, as well as by her enlivening conversation, give pleasure to all around her. Her life was a life of unaffected humility, warm benevolence, sincere friendship and genuine devotion;–a life which it is not easy truly to describe, or faithfully to imitate.
Having been confined to her chamber some years before her death, she had long waited with Christian dignity for the awful hour of her departure. She often spoke, not merely with When the interesting hour came, she welcomed its arrival; and though her feeble body was excruciated with pain, her mind was perfectly serene. She uttered not a murmuring word, but was all resignation, peace, and holy joy. She took the most affectionate leave of her weeping friends around her; and at length, the happy moment of her dismission arriving, she closed her eyes, and, with these animating words on her dying lips, ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth, gently fell asleep in Jesus. “Her excellent writings, by which, though dead, she still speaketh; and which are the faithful counterpart of her amiable mind, exhibit to us the fairest picture of the original. The following lines are inscribed on her tomb:—
Silent the lyre, and dumb the tuneful tongue,
That sang on earth her great Redeemer's praise; -
But now in heaven she joins the angelic song,
In more harmonious, more exalted lays.
I shall only add that as Theodosia was placed by Providence in a state of independence, and religiously devoted the profits arising from the sale of the former edition of her works, to the purposes of benevolence; so the profits which may arise from this edition are appropriated, by her surviving relatives, to the use of ‘the Bristol Education Society:’ an institution worthy of such patronage, and which thinks itself honoured in receiving it.
Silent the lyre, and dumb the tuneful tongue,
That sang on earth her great Redeemer's praise; -
But now in heaven she joins the angelic song,
In more harmonious, more exalted lays.
I shall only add that as Theodosia was placed by Providence in a state of independence, and religiously devoted the profits arising from the sale of the former edition of her works, to the purposes of benevolence; so the profits which may arise from this edition are appropriated, by her surviving relatives, to the use of ‘the Bristol Education Society:’ an institution worthy of such patronage, and which thinks itself honoured in receiving it.
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