An Interview with Rebecca (Hill) Rich of Hilperton, Wiltshire in 1860
A Grandmother's Stories for Her Grandchildren
At age 72, Rebecca Rich sits by the fire in
her Hilperton cottage, sharing memories with her visiting
grandchildren. Her weathered hands still busy with mending, her voice
carries the wisdom of seven decades.
1. Grandmother, what was it like being the oldest
child when you were young?
Oh, my dears, being the eldest was both a blessing and a burden.
When our dear mother passed away, I was but seven years old, and my
father tried as his best to care for us, but his parents had died and
my mother’s parents and brothers and sisters helped our family
quite a bit. By the age of fifteen, I found myself caring for your
great-uncles George, Samuel, and Lucia as if they were my own
children. I had to learn to bake bread before the sun rose, to mend
their clothes by candlelight, and to comfort them when they cried for
Mother. There were many nights I fell asleep exhausted, wondering if
I was doing right by them.
But you know, those early years taught me everything I needed to
know about running a household and caring for a family. When I
married your grandfather John and we began having children of our
own, I already knew how to stretch a shilling, how to make a hearty
meal from little, and how to love with my whole heart. Looking back,
I believe the Lord was preparing me for the great joy of raising
eleven children of my own, even though it seemed so hard at the time.
2. Tell us about your wedding day to Grandfather
John.
What a day that was, February 14th, 1815! Your grandfather looked
so handsome in his best coat, and I wore my mother's wedding dress,
altered to fit me properly. We were married by banns at St. Michael's
Church, the very same church where I was baptized as a babe. My
brother George stood as witness, and the whole village seemed to be
there to wish us well. I remember my hands shaking so much I could
barely make my mark in the register book.
The curious thing was, we were married on Saint Valentine's Day,
though I don't think we planned it that way - it just happened to be
when the banns were completed. The village women said it was a lucky
sign for love, and perhaps they were right, for we've had forty-five
years together now. After the ceremony, we had a simple celebration
at the cottage with fresh bread, cheese, and ale. It wasn't grand by
rich folks' standards, but it was perfect for us. I still remember
thinking I was the luckiest woman in all of Wiltshire.
3. What was the hardest thing about losing some
of your babies?
Her voice grows soft and distant
Oh, my sweet grandchildren, that is perhaps the hardest question
you could ask an old woman. Losing little John at age four, and then
baby William when he was barely four months old... there are no words
for the ache in a mother's heart. I remember holding tiny William in
my arms, so perfectly formed, and wondering why the Lord gave him to
us only to take him away so soon. Your grandfather and I, we wept
together many nights, questioning what we had done wrong.
But I learned that grief is the price we pay for love, and I
wouldn't trade the brief time I had with those precious boys for
anything. They taught me to treasure every moment with my other
children - every first step, every word, every bedtime prayer. When I
watch you children playing now, I think of them sometimes, wondering
what they would have been like as grown men. I believe they're
watching over our family still, and someday, when I join them in
heaven, I'll hold them again and tell them all the stories of the
brothers and sisters they never got to know.
4. What was it like watching three of your
children decide to go to America?
When Hannah first told me she was thinking of following James
Richman to America, my heart nearly stopped. America seemed as far
away as the moon! I had never been further than Trowbridge market,
and here was my daughter talking about crossing the great ocean to a
land I could barely imagine. When William and Samuel decided to
follow her, I felt like my heart was being torn in three pieces, each
one sailing away from me forever.
But I also felt such pride in their courage. These children of
mine, who learned to read and write better than their old mother ever
could, who had dreams bigger than our little village could hold - how
could I stand in their way? I packed their few belongings with extra
stockings I knitted through many late nights, tucked a bit of
Wiltshire soil in Samuel's bag, and gave them my blessing. Now I
treasure every letter that comes, and I tell everyone in Hilperton
about my children across the sea. Sometimes I wonder what it would be
like to see those strange new places, but mostly I'm content knowing
they're building good lives and raising families of their own.
5. How did you manage to feed and clothe eleven
children?
Chuckles and shakes her head
Lord knows it was like trying to fill eleven bottomless buckets
with one small pitcher! I became the master of making much from
little - a pot of porridge could be stretched with extra water and a
prayer, and one chicken could make soup for three days if you were
clever about it. I learned to grow every vegetable we could manage in
our little garden, and I taught the older children to help with the
younger ones so no hands sat idle.
The secret was keeping everyone busy and useful. Even little
Samuel, when he was barely tall enough to reach the table, could
shell peas or wind yarn. I made clothes from old clothes, turned
sheets sides-to-middle when they wore thin, and saved every scrap of
fabric for patches. Your grandfather's steady work as a weaver
helped, but it was careful planning and the grace of God that kept us
all fed, clothed, and healthy. I always said a family that works
together stays together, and we certainly proved that true.
6. What do you remember about the times when
England was at war with Napoleon?
Those were frightening times, my dears, though I was just a young
woman then. We would hear tales from travelers about the great
battles across the sea, and every able-bodied man in the village
worried he might be called to fight. Food was dear, and there were
times we went without sugar or tea for weeks on end. The government
men would come through the villages looking for supplies and men to
serve, and mothers would hide their sons if they could.
I remember the day we heard that Napoleon had finally been
defeated at Waterloo - it was 1815, just a few months after your
grandfather and I were married. The church bells rang all day, and
there was such celebrating in the village! People danced in the
streets and shared what little ale they had. It felt like the whole
world could breathe again. Your grandfather said it meant our
children would grow up in a peaceful England, and thank the Lord, he
was right about that.
7. Can you tell us about the changes you've seen
in Hilperton over the years?
Oh my, the changes I've witnessed! When I was a girl, everything
moved at the pace of walking feet and horses. Now we have the railway
line nearby, and I've seen those great iron horses puffing smoke and
carrying people faster than the wind. The old ways of farming are
changing too - there are new machines that can do the work of many
men, though your grandfather still prefers his hand loom to those
great factory contraptions.
The village has grown as well. When I was young, everyone knew
everyone else's business - their joys and sorrows, their comings and
goings. Now there are new faces regularly, people coming from other
counties to work in the mills and factories. It's exciting in some
ways, but I do miss the closeness we once had. Still, I suppose
change is the way of the world, and at least our little church
remains the same - the same stones, the same bells calling us to
worship, the same God watching over us all.
8. What was the most joyful day of your life?
Her eyes light up with warmth
You know, people might expect me to say my wedding day, or the
birth of my first child, but the truth is, my most joyful day was
that February morning in 1837 when I stood in St. Michael's Church
and watched the rector baptize Hannah, William, and Samuel all
together. They were thirteen, seven, and four years old, and they
looked like little angels in their best clothes, holding hands as the
holy water touched their foreheads.
By then, I had already lost two precious babies, and I had learned
not to take anything for granted. Standing there, watching three of
my surviving children make their promises to God, I felt such
overwhelming gratitude that my knees nearly buckled. Your grandfather
squeezed my hand, and I knew he felt it too - that sense that despite
all our losses and struggles, we were tremendously blessed. It was a
moment of pure joy, surrounded by my family and my faith, and I carry
that feeling with me still.
9. What advice would you give to young mothers
today?
Leans forward with earnest eyes
Listen to me carefully, dear ones, for this comes from a heart
that has known both great joy and deep sorrow. Love your children
fiercely every single day, because we never know how long we have
with them. Don't spend your time worrying about having the finest
clothes or the biggest house - what matters is the warmth of your
embrace, the sound of your voice reading stories, and the security of
knowing Mother will always be there when they need her.
And don't try to do everything perfectly, because you'll drive
yourself to distraction! I made plenty of mistakes raising my eleven
- sometimes I was too strict, sometimes too lenient, sometimes too
worried, sometimes not worried enough. But love covers a multitude of
sins, as the Good Book says. Your children won't remember if their
clothes were perfectly mended or if supper was served exactly at six
o'clock. They'll remember whether you listened when they had
something important to tell you, and whether you made them feel like
the most precious things in your world.
10. As you look back on your 72 years, what are
you most proud of?
Sits quietly for a moment, then smiles
I'm most proud that I raised children who became good people -
people who work hard, love their families, and help their neighbors.
James in Cardiff, Ann who made it all the way to Illinois, John and
Jesse who stayed close to home, Hannah, William, and Samuel building
new lives in America, Elizabeth who married well, Emma who grew into
such a kind woman - each one of them turned out to be someone I can
be proud to call my child.
But beyond that, I'm proud that I never gave up, not even in the
darkest times. When babies died, when money was scarce, when I felt
so tired I didn't think I could take another step - I kept going. I
kept loving, kept working, kept believing that tomorrow might be
better than today. I think that's what the Lord asks of us - not to
be perfect, but to be faithful. To keep loving even when love hurts,
to keep hoping even when hope seems foolish. If I've done that, then
I reckon I've lived a life worth living. And when I see you
grandchildren, with your bright eyes and strong bodies and loving
hearts, I know that all the struggles were worth it, because you are
the future we were building all along.
As the evening light fades, Rebecca pulls her shawl closer and
smiles at her grandchildren, her legacy living on in their eager
faces and loving hearts.
