
Born: May 29, 1828, Gamble’s Wharf, near Tring, Hertfordshire, England.
Died: October 29, 1907, at home, South Norwood Hill, London.
Buried: Southgate Cemetery, London.

Gerald was the son of canal boatman William and his wife Mary, and husband of Rosina Jane Knowles.
He went to work for a silk manufacturer at age eight. After the factory burned down, Massey began work plaiting straw.
Having had to earn my own dear bread by the eternal cheapening of flesh and blood thus early, I never knew what childhood meant. I had no childhood. Ever since I can remember, I have had the aching fear of want, throbbing heart and brow. The currents of my life were early poisoned, and few, methinks, would pass unscathed through the scenes and circumstances in which I have lived; none, if they were as curious and precocious as I was.
The child comes into the world like a new coin with the stamp of God upon it…the poor man’s child [is] hustled and sweated down in this bag of society to get wealth out of it…so is the image of God worn from heart and brow, and day by day the child recedes devil-ward.
I look back now with wonder, not that so few escape, but that any escape at all, to win a nobler growth for their humanity. So blighting are the influences which surround thousands in early life, to which I can bear such bitter testimony.
Despite his hard beginnings, Massey learned to read at a penny school,
with the Bible and Bunyan being his principal resources. Afterward he obtained access to Robinson Crusoe and a few Wesleyan tracts left at his cottage.
These constituted his only sources until he went to London , at age 15. With access to more reading material, he flourished, absorbing the classics and other influences.
In 1849, Massey started a cheap journal, The Spirit of Freedom, written entirely by workingmen. He was fired from five different jobs for publishing it, but he was committed to the cause of the laborer.
He eventually went on to publish poetry, as well. He is particularly known for his 6-volume trilogy on the origin of religions.
Thro’ all the long, dark night of years
The people’s cry ascendeth,
And Earth is wet with blood and tears:
But our meek sufferance endeth!
The few shall not for ever sway,
The many moil in sorrow:
The powers of Hell are strong today,
But Christ shall rise tomorrow.
Tho’ hearts brood o’er the past, our eyes
With smiling futures glisten!
For, lo! our day bursts up the skies:
Lean out your souls and listen!
The world rolls freedom’s radiant way,
And ripens with her sorrow:
Keep heart! who bear the cross today,
Shall wear the crown tomorrow.
O youth! flame-earnest, still aspire,
With energies immortal!
To many a heaven of desire,
Our yearning opes a portal!
And tho’ age wearies by the way,
And hearts break in the furrow,
We’ll sow the golden grain today—
The harvest comes tomorrow.
Build up heroic lives, and all
Be like a sheathen sabre,
Ready to flash out at God’s call,
O chivalry of labor!
Triumph and toil are twins: and aye
Joy suns the cloud of sorrow;
And ’tis the martyrdom today,
Brings victory tomorrow.
Richard Massey
Ballads and Poems, 1854