Benjamin Flower, Newgate Prison, to Eliza Gould, Mr. Gurney’s, Keene’s Row, Walworth, Thursday and Friday, 29 and 30 August 1799.

                                             Newgate   Aug 29.  1799—

                                             Thursday Eveng 11 o’clock

   No, My Dearest Eliza, I cannot desist!  Every visit you pay me I find some new argument to prove the rationality of the attachment I have professed; that it is not a sudden whim of passion, that it is not founded on anything superficial, or on what will not stand the test of the closest examination.  In your conversation this day, I discovered afresh that firmness of principle which is a phenomenon in the present time, in either sex; and your very reasons for wishing me to decline what I have in my former letters proposed, displayed such pure benevolence, and were expressed with such sensibility, that indeed, while on the one hand, I was much affected, so on the other I was confirmed in my resolution of laying before you a faithful, though to weary you as little as possible, a brief account of my past life.  Your only objections to my proposal were, lest I should in the result be disappointed, and my mind be materially injured.  No, on the contrary, I should be more disappointed, my mind would be more materially injured, were I now to refrain, were I not to pour my heart into yours.  How you have interested me by your letters, by laying before me one of the principal events of your life, I need not say; happy shall I deem myself if I am able to excite a similar interest.  I have I confess my fears, lest you should think me unworthy of your regard.  However, I had much rather even this should be the case, than that your regard should be excited by any, the least deception; you shall know me.  If after this knowledge my fears should be realised, and my hopes and wishes blasted, I will, whatever I may feel, blame, not you, but myself.  I am confident, my judgment at least, will coincide with yours, and that I must approve of your resolution, however my happiness may be affected. 

   The subject of the present letter will not offer what is interesting.  “Childhood and youth are vanity.” You will however indulge me in looking back on my early years.  I claim the privilege of friendship, and I shall do nothing more than converse with you in that familiar manner, as when I have the happiness of seeing you.   I have more than once wished that it were possible for us to have, what I will term, Infantile Biography. It might tend to settle some theological disputes, particularly those which relate to what is called “Original Sin,” and that weakness or depravity which we inherit from our first parents.  But I believe this is scarcely possible, we probably receive impressions and form habits, before we can give any account of them.  The earliest events I can recollect are, the death of George the 2d, and the proclamation of the present king. These happened on a Sunday, when I was about four years old.  I saw the ceremony of proclam­ation after attending with my parents, morning service at meeting.  I just recoll­ect, that the gay appearance of the soldiery, the heralds, &c, and the flourish of trumpets, when the proclamation was read, did not prevent a serious sensation in my bosom on account of the dead monarch. 

   My mind from early years was tinctured with serious impressions, perhaps owing to the care of my parents.  I shall in particular ever think it a great blessing, that we not only had domestic worship twice a day in our family, but that I attended on the Sabbath on the ministry of an excellent man, whose engaging manners made me love him as soon as I knew him, and whose admirable talents were such, that at the age of five years I was impressed, not unfrequently, by his sermons.  I allude to the late Mr Edward Hitchin of White Row Spitalfields, the best London Calvinistic preacher I ever heard.  He was a man of a lively imagination, a strong mind, and warm affections.  He was very popular, and raised a reduced interest to the most flourishing in London.  He met with many family afflictions which indeed hastened him to his grave at the age of 47.   In pointing out what appear to me to be errors of education, I am sure you will not my dear friend, suspect me of wishing to throw any degree of blame on my much respected parents.  To enter with any sort of precision on this subject would carry me far beyond my present design.  Erroneous judgment, what may appear to us so, may not indeed in certain cases be blameworthy, and if we think we are in any respects wiser than those who have preceded us, we still owe them so much, that our gratitude ought always greatly to preponderate.

   I was brought up in the Strict principles of Calvinism, taught the assembly’s Catechism, my sister Clayton, the eldest of our family, was a kind of religious tutoress to the rest.  Some of my father’s conversations I however well remember had more liberality than I discovered elsewhere amongst those of his own sentiments:  but still that dry, systematic catechism, I never liked: the long Sunday evening services which were then fashionable used to tire me, and the religion I acquired was not sufficiently of that personal kind which I am persuaded even children may acquire.  The regulation of the heart, the temper and the disposit­ion, was somewhat overlooked.  Some headstrong fits of obstinacy, which I have thought it my duty to punish with severity in children myself, were suffered to pass sometimes with a slight, and sometimes with no punishment, the ill effects of which, I sensibly witnessed almost to manhood, if not indeed almost to the present day.  If Providence, kindly severe, had not taken me into his own hands, and by various afflictions corrected what was so very much amiss, what effects might have followed I cannot say, but they must have been of an awful if not of a fatal kind.  Oh how many have been ruined by merely having been left to themselves.  Like many other children, I had from early years, from the conversation of servants particularly, imbibed frightful ideas on the subject of Spirits, apparit­ions &c.  These were much increased, owing to my sleeping in an upper room that looked into a church yard, where the funerals seldom took place till I was gone to bed and which were preceded by the most loud and dismal tolling bell, I ever remember to have heard.   I went to bed at eight o’clock, one of the men servants with whom I slept, came to bed about eleven; but what an interval of fear and sometimes of horror did I occasionally pass.  I never said anything to anyone on the subject: but what a relief was it, when I heard the doors in the lower part of the house open & shut, because I knew human beings were there.  But this was not my only disturbance.  On other evenings an assembly of cats used to meet, whose numberless discordant squallings used to keep me awake in terror.  It is not often that the mind entirely recovers its tone from the former of these terrors.  I was however pretty well recovered by the time I was one & twenty, since which I have had no fears of Spirits.  No, on the contrary could I have been permitted to choose some of my own favoured departed Spirits, how have I at times longed for their converse in some sequestered spot, in some fav­ourite walk.  I have on such occasions been ready to exclaim with Thomson—

‘Ye guardian Angels send me from the Tomb,

The long lost friend for whom in love I smart,

And fill with pious awe and joy-mix’d woe the heart!’

Young people might I am persuaded be reasoned out of their fears, much oftener than they are, and by that means acquire a strength of mind, which they feel the want of.  But you will not blame me if I now retire to rest as it is one o’clock.

                     Aug. 30.  Friday morng. 10 o’clock.

   I will not trouble you my Dear Friend with an account of the different Schools I was sent to.  It is a common error, for which however individuals are not in general to blame, but which is almost necessarily connected with the present system of public education—that children are sent to boarding school by way of experiment: their parents can form no judgment of their improvement for at least six months, and even then should they perceive what they judge to be defects, sometimes candour, and sometimes not knowing where else to place their children induces them to try once more.  An observation or two which you made yesterday on boarding schools, confirms me in the opinion, that where parents have that portion of affection and prudence which every parent ought to have for a child, but who are not able to educate their children at home, it is the best way to send them to a day school, as the parent can then daily observe what is going forward, and at the close, or the commencement of every week, can pay attention to the most important part of education the culture of the mind, and the regulation of the heart.  But I ought to apologise for these and other scattered reflections, which to you must appear superficial.  I will indulge in them very sparingly in future. 

   Of four Schools which I went to in the course of six years, I will notice one only, at which I remained three years and an half, the master a most extra-ordinary eccentric character but for whose memory I shall ever retain a grateful and affectionate respect—the late Rev. John Ryland of Northampton. He was a man of considerable strength of mind, but which was insufficient to restrain a wandering and an uncommonly vigorous imagination.  His passions and affections were warm, they would at times hurry him to excess; they mingled in every thing he did, and yet he had so much habitual good nature and benevolence, and his religious principles were so firm and influential, that I never saw any other ill effects even from his occasional follies of passion, than words & looks; whether he had made a vow not to strike a boy when in a passion I know not, but he very seldom did; and indeed upon the whole I thought him (I should have said I now think him) both with respect to myself and others, a less strict disciplinarian than he ought to have been.  I well recollect the times when I deserved punishment, when I am persuaded it would have cured a careless boy, which every letter I write is a proof of its being too habitual now to be rectified, and have corrected a disposition the obstinacy of which, would, if Providence had not taken me in hand, been my ruin.  You perceive I am obliged to apply a remark I had made respecting my parents, to my Schoolmaster.  But the methods of education at the school I am now alluding to, were in many respects so original, and so impressive, that I never yet heard, and never expect to hear of any school equal in those respects.  Religion was not made a task, we learned no catechisms.  Mr Ryland was a moderate Calvinist, he might have a bigotted attachment to one or two particular sentiments, but upon the whole, I scarcely re-collect the man who had more true devotion, and extensive liberality and benevolence.  His short comments in the family on the Scriptures, his singular remarks, his striking sermons, his plain familiar way of teaching the evidences of Christianity—these upon the whole made those impressions upon me, that I think, what I am, under God, for rational sentiments on religion, free from enthusiasm on the one hand, and from scepticism on the other is principally to him.  His remarks at times were so extravagant to bystanders, that they thought him in a frenzy.  I however frequently thought on those occasions I saw his mind in that state described by Shakespear—“A fine frenzy rolling from heaven to earth.” I could indeed enlarge here with pleasure, but I shall tire you.  I may perhaps one day draw up a short memoir of this extraordinary man, for some periodical publication.  I cannot however help giving you an instance or two of his, what you will call extravagant follies in religion, and his singular, tho’ you will acknowledge, upon the whole, impressive manner of inculcating science.  It was a habit which all the boys were accustomed to, to say by their own bedside, a short prayer.  I never recollect one boy being dictated to, what he should say, or having a single prayer taught him.  One night however one of the boys in a fit of carelessness, knelt down, and remained ’till he had finished his prayer, with his hat on.  This circumstance was noticed by the other boys in the room, and the next day conveyed to Ryland’s ear.  At family worship, he gave a short address on the reverence due to the Deity, more particularly in the duty of prayer, in which he introduced the Subject he intended, by suddenly calling out the boy, and informing him of his offence; without asking him what he had to say—he exclaimed, “Fall down on your knees this moment, and offer up your warmest gratitude to God, that he restrained the Angels in your room last night, when they beheld you with such horror, from wringing your neck off, and hurrying your wretched soul before that God in whose presence these Angels veil their faces.”  This was all that passed, but I never saw a boy more frightened in my life, and I believe the impression of such an address was felt by every one present.

   I will only mention one of his methods of teaching science, that of Astronomy. It was practised when the parents of any of the children, or some particular friends were on a visit.  “This afternoon (he would explain) we will devote to the Solar system, go boys and get the living Orrery ready.” Some of the boys with poles and ropes drew circles in a large yard, representing the solar system as usually engraved. One of the great boys, then placed himself in the Centre for the sun, and boys of different sizes were placed on the different circles for the planets, the earth, moons &c. Each boy had a card with the particulars respecting each body, its magnitude, time of revolving round the sun &c. which indeed he generally got by heart.  We were all fond of having a part in this celestial business; but the only favour shewn was to the most expert.  The Sun indeed on account of his motion being confined to his own axis, felt a little awkward.  When all were in their different orbits, the Sun began bawling out, “I represent the sun—my magnitude is &c. &c.[”]  When he had done—Mercury—& all the different planets followed, and informed us of his magnitude, distance from the sun, motion &c. &c.  when each had said his part, the solar system was put in motion.  I need not add, that we were not quite so long in getting round the sun as the planets above us but we had arrived to such tolerable order, that the little boy who represented the moon, would contrive to go round his superior, the earth, just thirteen times, while the latter had made his revolution round the sun.  Now for the comets, or Comet; as you know it is very seldom we are honoured, or frightened by their appearance, so only one of these extraordinary bodies made their appearance at a time in our system.  There was a long passage from the street into the yard, one of the biggest of the boys made his slow and gradual appearance from the regions of infinite space, (in the horse market,): as he approached the System, his motion quickened, and when he came to the centre the sun, he ran round with all the speed he was capable, then gradually slackened his pace, till at last we lost sight of him in his former region.  The only thing that interrupted the order of these celestials was, the frequent impossibility of the actors themselves, the surrounding boys visitors &c. and even the master himself (all of whom represented the fixed stars) preserving a serious countenance.  You will agree with me, that it was impossible for any boy thus instructed, ever to lose his knowledge of astronomy.  We sometimes had lessons on the use of the globes, the mechanic powers, electricity &c: he would spare no pains or expence for apparatus.  He would contrive experiments the most diverting, and all was so well timed, and rendered so amusing, that it very seldom interrupted our usual studies, and was always preferred to play.  He was liberal, too liberal indeed for his circumstances, in his expences, for instruments, rewards &c.  He would on some occasions pay us perhaps rather a rough, tho’ a laughable compliment.— “What do you call this?  “The wooden horizon.” You know Sir (turning to a parent) we do not make use of the word wooden, but I find it necessary to make their senses touch something, or I fear I could not beat my system into their wooden heads.”

   I learned with Mr Ryland, the elements of the Latin, and a very trifling smattering of the Greek and Hebrew languages, not at the expence of the English.  He was very particular in this respect, and made every boy learn the couplet—

“Let all the Foreign tongues alone

Till you can read and spell your own.”

To him the public are endebted for Dr Ash’s Introduction to English Grammar. The manuscript not designed for publication, fell into his hands, I was one of the first boys he taught it, and the first edition was printed by Mr Ryland, with an essay on Education, and one or two other small pieces, which I am sorry to see left out of the following editions.  But I must dismiss my old master, by observing that I was always attached to him during his life, much enjoyed his company at my father’s (where he frequently met the late Mr Toplady) and if his mind is now proceeding in the heaven, in the same manner as when on earth, I promise myself considerable improvement from his company hereafter.  After I left his school at the age of 13, I returned home, and went to a day school to improve myself in writing and arithmetic, and where during my two years of apprenticeship I learned to dance.  The mere ornamental parts of education, not without their use, were somewhat neglected at the former school—Ryland thought them beneath him:  tho’ he had no objection to any thing of the kind where the parents requested it particularly.

   I now come to that important period in the life of everyone, when a choice is made for them with respect to what is intended for their habitual business.  This is sometimes formed on the particular bias for some trade or profession: I had nothing of this on my mind.  I had indeed a wish not to be settled at home, one or two reasons for which you will presently perceive.  Some persons have done me at times the honour, (I mean the dishonour) to say I ought to have been a parson; but, begging pardon of a rara avis or two, I thank heaven I was not put apprentice to that (I am afraid in all Sects) most dishonest of all dishonest trades.  My father himself, tho’ his house was open to those of all denominations had not the highest opinion of them.  However, my father who was an excellent tradesman, and possessed a very flourishing business, after waiting till I was turned of 15, not meeting with a situation to his mind, bound me apprentice to himself.   The business (a stationer, and importer of linen rags) I had no attachment to and some of its branches I disliked.  The taste of my elder brother who had then served the greater part of his time, and mine, differed almost in toto: Both of us were fond [of] books, tho’ he never neglected his business, to which indeed he was so attentive that altho’ he had a true genius for drawing, and occasionally indulges it to this day, he never pressed it on my father to let him have any instruction; as the latter hinted he was fearful it would hurt him as a tradesman.  While he was industrious, I must confess I was a sad idle fellow: loitering on err­ands, not in bad company, but staring at anything new and surprising, chattering with any of my old schoolfellows, attending to news—with a hundred other etceteras, which an inquisitive fellow, who did not much like business, and who wished to find an excuse for his negligence, could easily pick up, often procured me a lecture from my father.  It not unfrequently indeed deserved more than a lecture, and my brother would at times exclaim “he wished he were my master.” The reason however, I got out of many hobbles better than I expected was—that social, communicative turn I always possessed, and which I also shall possess to my dying day.   My brother was inclined to reserve and taciturnity. One or two of your sex have made him at times chatty and agreeable; at these times it is easily discovered, what otherwise would only be found out by those who live with him (and not always by those) that he has read and thought much, that his mind is much more amply stored with literature than any other branch of the family; whereas I have had more merit allowed me in this respect than I deserved.  The truth is, whether at 14 or 42, I must as soon as I find out anything that pleases me, be uneasy till some one is acquainted with it.  I frequently therefore in my youthful days used to entertain the family of an evening with something or other I had seen or heard or read, and altho’ few days passed in which some neglig­ence in business was not too apparent, I generally contrived before the day clos’d to be reconciled, if not to be somewhat more of a favourite than my brother.  My turn for reading, my father & mother did not, upon the whole discourage, tho’ they thought I was rather too fond of it. Indeed as I was somewhat unhappy in business, I was proportionately happy when out of it.  I am afraid to say—There are advantages in Ignorance in almost any case, and yet I shall leave it to you to determine, whether there may not be some advantage in reading, when we conceive fiction to be reality.  

   Few can conceive the pleasure I experienced in the first perusal of the Spectator.  I thought most of the imaginary histories real ones, and I well remember how I wept at the death of old Sir Roger de Coverley. Something of a similar feeling has always accompanied my Novel reading, by the reflection which I have mention’d to you and many others—that I am persuaded, that there are few scenes or characters in Novels, but what are to be found in real life.  I do not mean that they are not very extraordinary, and that Novellists  may not too frequently indulge in them: but the admission of the fact has peculiarly impressed me.  It is this reflection which has so frequently made my eyes flow when at the midnight hour I have been anxiously attending to the sorrows and with impatience hurrying on the fate of a Clarissa Harlowe (not to mention others).  It is this reflection which has made me shew as much weakness (must I use the word) as almost any one, at the Theatre, when witnessing those affecting scenes, and impassioned representations, in which a Siddons and a Kemble have so frequently engaged and rivetted me.

   Politics during that interesting period the American war much engaged my attention.  My father and I thought alike, and were on the side of Government.  My brother was when he did talk, a warm oppositionist. The causes of the Revolution that has since taken place in our Sentiments I shall not trouble you with: I was so tolerable a politician that my father always assigned me my post in a political debate.  I indeed ruined my little finances in buying books & pamphlets on the topics of the day.  Some of the ill consequences of this, I was about to relate, but I shall defer it to the next period of my life, as it will lead to some observations which tho’ of a melancholy nature, ought not to escape me.  My father would occasionally attend the best of the debating Societies, then so frequent: at the age of seventeen I began to spout:  my father was pleased at what I said, and the reception I met with—To my having been at Rylands school habituated to speak on various subjects (sometimes we repeated something on a Sunday evening in the Gallery at meeting) and to my occasionally exercising myself at the societies alluded to, I attribute much of that self possession which let me talk sense or nonsense, whether at a book society, in a village congreg­ation, or as on a recent occasion at the bar of the house of Lords, has never failed me.  Political squibbing in the newspapers likewise occasionally employed me.  My father used now and then to take a part in a contested city election.  I was on such occasions one of his active agents, and indeed I was so well by degrees acquainted with the art and mystery of electioneering, that I have since performed as clever, or rather as shabby feats, as old performers.  I could not do the like again, and indeed the only apology I can make for ever having done them is—Nobody thought them wrong, and it was honest zeal, without any interested motive that actuated me.  I shall not forget how my Youthful vanity was on one of these occasions gratified.  It was when the late Mr Wilkes put up for the office of Chamberlain.  My father held his character (and a most horrid moral character his was) in peculiar abhorrence, altho’ from Wilkes having been illeg­ally and indeed very foolishly treated by ministers, he was very popular.  My father therefore, who was the particular friend of that exemplary character Sir Stephen Theodore Janssen, the preceding chamberlain, was a very warm opposer of Wilkes, and a strenuous supporter of his opponent Mr Hopkins.  In family prayer, morning and evening, this petition was sure to be put up—“Blast the design of those who are now endeavouring to place vice and immorality at the head of this great city.” We both set down to write on the subject: both of us when we had finished, tho’ we acknowledged the justice of the sketch we had each drawn of Wilkes, had some predilection in favour of our own; and we agreed to send both to a popular paper, and leave the printer to determine, offering different fictitious signatures.  As what I wrote was in the highest style of Satire I was capable of writing—I subscribed myself A modern Patriot—My father’s being of a more serious cast was subscribed—A Christian.  The next day—My Letter was inserted; my fathers never appeared, and he (not without exultation) yielded to me the palm.  The letter made at the time a great deal of noise, and had not the facts been too glaring for contradiction, some persons were afraid of a prosecution.  The piece alluded to was certainly sharp, and decent for a boy of 18 and if I had possessed a little of the spirit of Industry which some people have, and had not hated labour, I should have copied this, and one or two other youthful effusions.

   The general knowledge I acquired, and the inclination as I observed before I always had to chatter about every thing I knew, gained for me many hours in the parlour, in good company, when my brother was plodding away behind the counter.  I now and then had a rebuke—“Ben—Ben this is not right—why don’t you go and keep your brother company”—Amidst many errors in disposition, my religious impressions increased. The preaching of Mr Hitchin before men­tioned I was much attached to.   He died when I was at the age of 17. His succ­essor, Mr Trotman, tho’ a worthy man, had not his abilities, nor his sensibility.  Altho I entertained much personal respect for him, and he had a great respect for me to the close of life (he died about 5 years since) I was not fond of his preaching.  My father altho’ he wished me to attend with him constantly, yet perceiving my taste was elsewhere, and knowing I never absented myself from divine service did not commit that fatal error which I fear has ruined the religion of many young people, insisting on their attendance on the family minister, instead of indulging their inclination to hear others.  I was allowed to hear my favourites, and these were of different denominations.  The late Mr Robinson of Cambridge, who often came to London Martin (the degenerate Martin) Sir H. Trelawney (another apostate) the late Mr Toplady, not to mention others I heard with very great pleasure.  My happiness at times was indeed of the sublimer kind. The sermons of Saurin, translated by Robinson, altho’ from the sublimity of the reasoning in many, and the high style of eloquence in which they are written are thought too high for many capacities, I read with close attention.   I found the powers of my mind, the more I attended, the more expanded.  Many of the best sermons, and the finest Theological treatises I ever read, were read before I was one & twenty.  At the age of 15 & 16 I had indeed some very awful apprehensions of divine things. I do not consider them as accurate, my Ideas were too much formed on some gloomy sentiments, and I did not enough consider the importance of right action.  The shades of conduct, the niceties of the christian character, the peculiar morality of the gospel ought to be more constantly instilled into Youth.  I had indeed deep impressions of the evil nature of sin, the importance of Salvation, the danger of neglecting it, the terrors of a judgment day, and the horrors of future punishment, but these ideas were of a too general a nature.  They had however for sometime that effect, that I was thro’ fear of death subject to much bondage.  The sight of a Coffin, a funeral procession, the tolling of a bell, the sight of a departed friend in his Coffin (tho’ I wished to see the corpse of such) on these occasions I have indeed felt unusual horrors.  One sermon I heard from the late Dr. Addington, from those words—“How shall we escape if we neglect so great salvation,” sunk so deep into my mind, that on my return home, I endeavoured to secret myself for the remainder of the day.  I took a book, wrote down a considerable part of the sermon, resolved to commence a religious diary, and fervently prayed to God to assist me in the great work of salvation, and that the impressions of that day might more deeply sink into my heart.  I kept this Diary for about five years with tolerable regularity.  When I first left my native country in the year ’85, I gave it into the hands of a dear and intimate friend, together with various letters, and papers.  I told him, if he chose to read them over he might, but I desired him after he had so done to destroy them.  By some accident, my late respected acquaintance Mrs Hensman of Kimbolton, having heard something of the said Diary begged me to let her have it; I thinking it destroyed, said, you may have it if you can find it.  She got it into her possession, and has often told me, she valued it more than any Diary she had ever read.  I could not help telling her that I was much surprised—that the religious sentiments and feelings of a youth from 17 to 22—written for no eye but his own, could possibly afford entertainment or instruction to a person of 60 years old, and one much advanced in the divine life; when I paid the family a visit last Sepr, I happened to lay hold of it & was about tearing it to pieces, she interceded, said she had not long to live in the world, and that the loss of it would affect her sick bed, and that if I valued her friendship, I would restore it.  She died in about a month and I was informed it was one of the last books she read.  When I had it last, altho’ I perceived many crude sentiments, & much enthusiasm, yet I found enough to shame me, to think how little I have since acted up to the professions of my youth.  Every thing however I expressed came from the heart; to that circumstance I attribute the effect it had on my venerable friend.

   I have already much exceeded my original design in this first part of my life, but, my Dear friend, you will indulge me.  I will not much longer detain you.  At the age of 18, I first felt the influence of one of your sex over my heart.  My affection was excited by beauty, I sought for a farther acquaintance, but I had heard something not so favourable respecting the disposition of the lady as I wished, and from the very first time I ever thought about marriage I was firmly persuaded, disposition was the first thing requisite.  I indeed fancied it impossible the object of my affections could be in disposition any other than what I desired.  I consulted a friend who from that day to this kept my Counsel.  The girl was 2 years older than myself; a person of respectable family, a good fortune, and considerable expectations. A Gentleman of two & twenty while I was deliberating what step to take payed his addresses to her, was approved by her parents and succeeded.  I never gave any hint of my attachment, nor did she ever know of it.  As my intimacy was slight, and my affection had only her person to support it, I found no greater sacrifice in resigning her than might be supposed such a boyish affair.  She is after 23 years of marriage a fine, and accomplished woman, lives in elegance, and I now and then visit the family.  Her husband is an excellent man every way worthy of her. 

   I will finish my youthful history, by informing you it pleased God to remove my father from this world to a better on the the 13th of Feb. ’78, just before the expiration of my apprenticeship.  In his last illness which continued about a fortnight he was tranquil, sensible that he should not recover; not only resigned, but happy in the prospect of Death.  Mr Romaine, as well as his paster Mr Trotman, were with him almost to the last hour.  He took a most affectionate leave of my Mother, their children, servants and friends present.  I remained by his bed side till within a few minutes of his departure.  He was speechless, but his looks afforded admirable comment on a verse of that fine Hymn of Doddridge’s we sang together last Sunday—

When death o’er nature shall prevail—

And all my powers of language fail

Joy thro’ my swimming eyes shall break

And mean the thanks, I cannot speak.

He died at the age of 63.  I will only add one trait of his character.  He was a man of very warm affections.  He lost 5 children out of 11. I only remember the death of one of them, a sister, at the age of 17.  He was so affected that he went into her chamber every day, weeping over her breathless corps[e], and would devote so much of the day in this manner, that fearing his health might be seriously injured, my mother contrived to have the room door locked, and with much persuasion prevailed on him not to attempt going in again.

   I fear, my Dear Eliza, I have wearied you; however you have only to lay down my letters at any time, and resume them at your leisure.  If this first part of my correspondence should in any degree have amused you, it is all I can expect.  How the remainder may affect you, whether it may excite any interest, or what may be the result—whether it may not lower me in your esteem—but let me not anticipate any thing of an unpleasant nature.  With that high idea I have of your fervent, consistent piety, your blameless life, your exalted virtues, I have confidence in your candour, your goodness, your compassion for an inferior character.  I expect that two more letters, neither of which I believe will be so tedious as the present, will accomplish what I first proposed, the one of which I hope to write you on the following week, and the other the week after.

   I assure you I have endeavoured, and shall always endeavour to converse with you even on the subject most interesting to my earthly happiness with tranquility, and I hope to shew a little more firmness than you perhaps think I may possess: but I must confess, that the manner in which you expressed yourself towards the close of yesterday’s visit in which you so affectionately discovered an interest in my happiness, and your fears lest disappointment might materially hurt me, much affected me, although to you, at the moment, I might not sensibly discover what I felt.  I was not sorry after you left me that I was compelled to attend to business, having my weekly paragraphs and a letter of some length to write to Cambridge, and not two hours to finish the whole.  With proper exertion, I got through in time.  I then walked for an hour and an half.  My neighbour below afterwards invited me to whist, at which I played for two hours, and from which I find some benefit, after a day of either business, or thinking, or feeling; at eleven I began this letter, and wrote the first part of it.  About 1, I retired to rest, slept tolerably well my usual time, arose, took my morning’s walk, and after breakfast proceeded in my epistolary converse with you.  With the intervening visits of my eldest brother and two or three acquaintance I have as you will perceive devoted the day to you. I propose retiring to rest somewhat sooner than last night, or rather this morning. 

   Adieu!—Take care of your health & spirits.  Favour me with your company the whole of Sunday.  If you even omit a Sermon you make me more devout; so that there is no devotion lost.  Do not forget the picture.  Believe me with the utmost sincerity

                                             Your

                                                 B. Flower

P.S. As I find I am too late for the first post, I will just drop one line of Politics; I know not whether you read a daily paper.  If you do not, I just inform you, that since the publication of my paper, important news is arrived.  Success is turned in Favour of the French who have gained several victories in Switzerland and elsewhere. When I add, my persuasion that upon their success depends the general welfare of Europe, and the important interests of civil and religious liberty, you and I have no doubt whether to call this news good or not.

   When I look over my letter, and particularly this last sheet, I am ashamed to send it.  But you will I believe be able to make it out, and as nothing is more irksome to me, than copying what in itself, abstractedly considered, is hardly worth writing at all, your goodness I know will forgive me; and let me entreat you to accept of this general apology for all blots, blunders, scratches &c. &c.  past, present, and to come; tho’ I must add I would not ask you to forgive them, nor should I forgive them in a child.  But really “children of a larger growth,” with their rooted bad habits are at times greater objects of pity than little children.   Well, if you will be my governess, and only give me my rules, or instructions, I will promise to be very good, and attend to and if possible follow them.  Example is indeed in many cases more powerful than precept, but you are witness, that even example will not do alone. 

   Come as soon as you can to morrow morning.  You cannot be too early for me.

Text: Flower Correspondence, National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth; for an annotated edition of this letter and the complete correspondence of Eliza Gould and Benjamin Flower, see Timothy Whelan, ed., Politics, Religion, and Romance: The Letters of Benjamin Flower and Eliza Gould, 1794-1808 (Aberystywth: National Library of Wales, 2008), pp. 65-82. 

Edward Hitchin (1726-74), Flower's childhood pastor, settled in London in 1743 as assistant to Richard Rawlin at the Independent congregation at Fetter Lane. After the death of Mordecai Andrews, he became pastor of the Independent congregation at Artillery Lane, Bishopsgate.  In 1755, the year Benjamin Flower was born, the congregation built a new chapel in White Row, Spitalfields (at that time the largest Dissenting chapel in London), where Hitchin remained until his death on 11 January 1774 (Congreg­ational Magazine [1826]: 36).  He was a strong evangelical Calvinist, a friend of Whitefield, Gill, Toplady, Romaine and other leading ministers of his day. Mary Flower Clayton (1747-1836) was Flower’s older sister who married John Clayton (1754-1843), the Independent minister at the Weigh House, London.

Flower's favorite teacher and schoolmaster was John Collett Ryland (1723-92), Baptist minister at Northampton. Ryland was raised at Bourton-on-the-Water and joined the Baptist church there under the ministry of Benjamin Beddome. After receiving his pastoral training at Bristol Baptist Academy (1744-45), Ryland spent the next thirteen years as minister of the Baptist church at Warwick.  He removed to Northampton in 1759, serving both as pastor of the Baptist church at College Lane [Street] and headmaster of the academy. Ryland left Northampton for Enfield, near London, in 1786, closing his school and turning the church over to his son, John Ryland, Jr., Flower’s former classmate. At Enfield, J. C. Ryland opened another Dissenting academy, the same school the Romantic poet John Keats would later attend.  At his death in 1792, Ryland had published nearly forty works. 

Attached to John Collett Ryland’s An Address to the Ingenuous Youth of Great-Britain (1792) was “A Plan of Education, adapted to the use of schools,” in which he described his system for teaching astronomy, a system Flower experienced first hand during his time at Northampton and which he writes so vividly about in the above letter. To Ryland, “Astronomy is a most sublime and delicious science: To form a just idea of the magnitude, motions, and distances of the heavenly bodies, has a powerful and happy tendency to enlarge and elevate the soul, and to give us striking thoughts of the wisdom, goodness, and universal agency of God.  But can any notion of this science be conveyed into the minds of school-boys?  Will it not rather puzzle and confound their brains, and unfit them for the more important employment of studying dry words for seven years together?  I answer, No.  It may be taught them in their play hours with as much pleasure as they learn to play at marbles, or drive a hoop for an hour or two … Take seventeen blank cards; write on one, the sun, with his diameter, which is seven hundred thousand miles; give this to the largest boy, who is to stand in the centre to represent the sun” (140-141).  Ryland then suggests that this is to be done for all the planets and moons in the solar system, detailing each one’s duration of orbit around the sun or planet, its diameter, and its hourly motion.   After all the boys have a card, he says, “go into any plain field, or place, where boys can play, draw a circle of two hundred feet diameter,” then “divide the semi-diameter into a hundred parts; if you chuse exactness, take five of these parts from the center and describe a circle for Mercury’s orbit, take seven parts for the orbit of Venus; ten parts for our earth’s orbit; fifteen parts for the orbit of Mars,” and so on until the entire solar system was laid out (142).  “Now begin your play, fix your boys in their circles, each with his card in his hand, and then put your orrery in motion, giving each boy a direction to move from west to east, mercury to move swiftest, and the others in proportion to their distances, and each boy repeating in his turn the contents of his card, concerning his distance, magnitude, period, and hourly motion.  Half an hour spent in this play once a week will, in the compass of a year, fix such clear and sure ideas of the solar system as they can never forget to the last hour of life: And probably rouze some sparks of genius, which will kindle into a bright and beautiful flame in the manly part of life” (143). Apparently, given Flower’s fond remembrance of this particular teaching device, Ryland knew exactly what he was talking about.  

John Ash (1724-79), like Ryland, was trained at Bristol Baptist Academy, after which he pastored the Baptist congregation at Pershore, Worcestershire, from 1746 to 1779.  His Introduction to Lowth’s English grammar first appeared in 1760, and went through numerous editions in the next forty years.  Ryland published his own “improved” fifth edition of Ash’s Grammar in 1768, without Ash’s approval.  This is the publication Flower is referring to in the above letter. Ryland added an “Advertisement” to his edition, dated 12 September 1767, noting that the Grammar was prepared by his “much esteemed and ingenious Friend the Reverend Mr. John Ash, of Pershore in Worcestershire, and was originally designed for the Use of his Daughter, who was then but five Years of Age” (Easiest Introduction 7).  Ryland adds that he has been using Ash’s Grammar for the past six years in his academy at Northampton. “Nothing of this Kind,” he writes, “has succ­eeded so well” (8).  Ryland considered Ash’s Grammar the perfect preparatory work to Joseph Priestley’s English Grammar and Robert Lowth’s Grammar, the best “ever written in our Language” (9).  Ryland explains that although he has published this edition “without the Author’s Knowledge or Consent, let him not be blamed, if it has not had his latest Corrections and Improvments.  It is sufficient to observe, that the Editor being in great Want of copies, he was suspicious that if the Publication had been referred to the Author, his great Modesty and Attention to the important Duties of Life would have occasioned too long a Delay.  The Editor knows his Friend, and has a full Confidence in the Goodness of his Dispositions.  He dares venture his Displeasure.  It is upon the same Principle that he has presumed to add an Appendix, which contains a Praxis of an easier Nature, for younger Children” (9-10).  Apparently, by the early 1770s Ryland was contemplating publishing another edition.  A copy (in Ryland’s hand) of a letter from Ash to the London printer, Edward Dilly, who had published the fourth edition of Ash’s Introduction in 1763, reveals the extent of Ash’s dis­­approval of Ryland’s intentions:

My Friend Mr. Ryland, not to say Mr. Dilly, has used me exceedingly ill.  The Edit­ion of the Grammars published by you, was, as he confess’d in the Preface, entirely without my Knowledge.  Since that time I have heard not so much as one single Word from him by Way of Excuse or otherwise. . .  I now find by your Letter that a second pirated Edition is in the press with some alterations, not to say Improvs by Mr. Ryland, which I look upon as a further abuse of that Friendship that once subsisted between us, and such an one as, I do assure you, I will not put up with.  If he has given you to understand that I ever gave him Liberty to alter, publish or do anything with it, he has greatly abused you.  I look upon the Copy to be entirely my own Property at my own Disposal.  and if the present Edition is printed off without my first seeing the proposed Alterations I will actually redress myself to the utmost of my Power.  Mr. Ryland may have made some Improvts but I must be convinced of this and approve of what he has done.  And I hope both of you will give me leave and Opportunity to make what Alterations I may think proper in my own Work for my own it shall still be. (MS., Bristol Baptist College, shelfmark G97a.Ah.33)

A revised and corrected sixth edition of Ash’s Grammar appeared in 1772, printed by Dilly, but without Ryland’s name on the title page; apparently Ash had regained control of his work.  Ash was also known for his New and Complete Dictionary of the English Language (1775).  Ryland's An Essay on the Dignity and Usefulness of Human Learning, addressed to the Youth of the British Empire in Europe and America (1769), appeared a year after his edition of Ash’s Grammar. 

Augustus Toplady (1740-1778) was a Calvinistic minister in the Church of England at Broad Hembury, 1768-78.  A close friend of Sir Richard Hill and William Romaine, Toplady was a favorite among evangelical ministers, both Anglicans and Dissenters.  Widely known for his Poems on sacred subjects (1759), he is best remembered today for his famous hymn, “Rock of Ages.”  Calvinists admired his Historic Proof of the Doctrinal Calvinism of the Church of England (1774), as well as his attack on John Wesley’s Arminianism in A Letter to Mr. Wesley (1770).  He edited the Gospel Magazine in 1775 and 1776, publishing a review of John Collett Ryland’s Contemplations in that periodical in 1777, shortly before succumbing to consumption the next year.  

John Wilkes (1727-97) was a controversial politician who entered Parliament in 1757.  In 1762 he founded The North Briton, publishing political pieces that, in their contempt of the government, led to his expulsion from Parliament in 1764.  He lived most of the next four years in France, returning to London in 1768 and winning a seat in Parliament from Middlesex, only to be expelled again in 1769 over previous libel convictions. He was elected Mayor of London on 8 October 1774, and shortly thereafter won election to Parliament for Middlesex, this time being allowed to take his seat.  In the March 1776 election (mentioned in the above letter), Hopkins polled 2887, Wilkes 2710. It was during this election that Flower’s first piece of political writing appeared in The Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser on Monday, 12 February 1776. Though written at the age of twenty, not eighteen, as Flower suggests, the letter nevertheless displays the sharp satiric wit that he would use, both to his advantage and disadvantage, in his later political pamphlets and his weekly editorials for the Cambridge Intelligencer. For a complete transcript of the letter, see Timothy Whelan, Politics, Religion, and Romance, 344-46.

Nathaniel Trotman (1751-93) succeeded Edward Hitchin as pastor at White Row, Spitalfields, in 1774, continuing the church’s tradition of evangelical Calvinism. One friend described Trotman as “a Nathaniel for uprightness and sincerity; a Moses for meekness; a Job for patience; a Josiah for piety; and a Paul for zeal for the glory of God.” See J. A. Jones, ed., Bunhill Memorials, Sacred Reminiscences of Three Hundred Ministers and Other Persons of Note, who are Buried in Bunhill Fields (London: J. Paul, 1849), 238.

John Martin (1741-1820) pastored the Baptist congregation in Grafton Square, London (which later moved to Keppel Street), 1773-1814.  Martin drew the ire of many Dissenters with his Speech on the Repeal of such Parts of the Test and Corporation Acts as affecting Conscientious Dissenters: intended to have been delivered before the General Body of Dissenting Ministers at the Library in Red Cross Street, December 22, 1789.   He followed this in 1791 with A Review of Some Things Pertaining to Civil Government, in which he argued (just as John Clayton, Flower’s brother-in-law, did the same year in his sermon, The Duty of Christians to Magistrates), that “every private man is bound, by divine authority, to submit peaceably to the civil power of that country in which he resides or lives, in all cases where his submission would leave him in the enjoyment of a good conscience” (28).  In 1798 Martin had become even more conservative, claiming that a French invasion of England would be widely supported by Dissenters.  His most notorious offense, however, occurred after his appointment as almoner of the Regium Donum (a fund established early in the eighteenth century by the Crown to provide pecuniary support for Dissenting ministers).  Angered at Martin’s "political subserviency" in catering to the good graces of the Established church and the Pitt government in order to gain the appointment, the other dissenting ministers connected with the Fund withdrew and left Martin the entire sum (about £1500 a year) to dispense with as he pleased.  Robert Hall warned his fellow Baptists about Martin, noting that "Judas had no acquaintance with the chief priests, till he went to transact business with them" (Morris 68). Flower commented on Martin’s “ownership” of the Regium Donum in the Intelligencer on 29 July 1797: “It is the glory of the Protestant Dissenters to have such a man their avowed opponent.  The Anabaptists, however, or, to speak more correctly, the Antipaedobaptists, come in for something like a compliment from his Lordship, which we firmly believe that respectable sect does not deserve.  But we cannot help asking-Has there been any Renegado, who has forgotten his character and princ­iples, so far as to flatter and sneak to the bishop of Rochester, and by this and other undue means, acquired the sole possession of that instrument of corruption the Regium Donum?  We cannot pursue the subject, but it ought seriously to be inquired into, by those whose character and honour are deeply involved.

Sir Harry Trelawny (1756-1834), after graduating from Oxford in 1773, spent several years as a Calvinistic Methodist preacher before becoming an Independent minister at Southampton.  In 1779 he became a Unitarian, only to renounce that position in 1789 and return to the Church of England, for which he was appointed prebendary in Exeter.  In 1810, however, he joined the Roman Catholic Church, becoming an ordained priest in 1831.

The sermons of Jacques Saurin (1677-1730), a French protestant minister, were translated by Robert Robinson and published as Sermons translated from the Original French of the late Revd. James Saurin (1775; 1782).  In 1796 a third edition appeared in London with additional sermons, these having been translated by Henry Hunter (1741-1802), a Scotch Baptist minister in London. A fourth edition appeared in 1800, with additional sermons translated by John Sutcliff, Baptist minister at Olney.

Stephen Addington (1729-1796) was an Independent minister at Miles Lane in London (1781-95) as well as tutor at the Mile End Academy (1783-91).  Educated under Philip Doddridge at Northampton, he originally ministered at Spaldwick and Market Harborough. Among his public­ations are The Christian minister’s reasons for baptizing infants (1771) and A letter to the deputies of protestant dissenting congregations, in and about ... London and Westminster on their intended application to Parliament, for the repeal of the Corporation and Test Acts (1787).  An affectionate history of Addington can be found in Wilson 1.499-518.

Mrs. John Hensman died on 3 October 1798. Flower visited her shortly before she died. A few weeks later he wrote of her death in the Intelligencer: “Her excellent disposition and character, rendered her much respected by her family and friends, and her liberality to the poor, whom she not only relieved by the usual means of benevolence, but for whom she constantly ‘worked with her hands,’ renders her death a severe loss to the town and neighbourhood.  Throughout the whole of a long and painful illness, she displayed that patience, resignation, and fortitude, so peculiar to the Christian system, and so honourable to the Christian character” (6 October 1798). Her husband had predeceased her. The Hensmans were Dissenters and most likely Baptists. A William Hensman, Jr., of Kimbolton subscribed to the Sunday School Society in 1789 (Plan 28). Mrs. Hensman had several daughters; one was married to Flower’s London friend, William Creak, also a Baptist and who was probably the “friend” (mentioned above) who initially received the diary in 1785. Two other unmarried daughters appear later in his correspondence. Flower knew the family well, for several notices concerning the Hensmans of Kimbolton appeared in the Intelligencer (see Cambridge Intelligencer, 17 May 1794, 30 September 1797).

William Romaine (1714-95), like Augustus Toplady, was an evangelical Calvinist minister in the Church of England.  Influenced by the evangelistic preaching of George Whitefield in the 1750s, Romaine’s “enthusiastic” preaching quickly drew the ire of many of his fellow Anglican ministers, resulting in his removal from several parish ministries.  In 1766 he finally settled as vicar of St. Anne’s, Blackfriars, in London, and remained there until his death in 1795.  Romaine, along with John Newton at St. Mary Woolnoth, London, became two of the leading voices of the evangelical revival among Anglicans in London. 

Philip Doddridge (1702-51), one of the most influential Independent ministers of the eighteenth century, studied under John Jennings at Kibworth and Hinckley, Leicestershire. After brief ministries at Kibworth and Market Harborough, 1723-29, Doddridge assumed the pastorate of the Independent church at Northampton, and shortly thereafter opened his academy. He remained at Northampton until his death in 1751.  A moderate Calvinist, he did much to unite the many divisions among the Dissenters of his day.   His most popular work was On the Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul (1745).

Though not mentioned in these letters, Henry Crabb Robinson also visited Flower during his stay at Newgate, sometime in July or early August 1799. Robinson notes in his diary: “One other political prisoner occasionally visited by me was Benjamin Flower, who had been committed to Newgate by the House of Lords for a breach of privilege” (Morley 7).  Flower and Robinson had been acquaintances for many years, initially meeting at gatherings of the Royston Book Club, where they would have shared numerous mutual friends, such as the William Nash, E. K. Fordham, Robert Hall, Anthony Robinson, and John Towill Rutt.  Flower published two letters by Robinson in the Intelligencer: the first appeared on 1 August 1795, titled “Godwin,” and signed “Philo Godwin”; the second appeared on 5 April 1800, titled “Strictures on Mr. Hall’s Sermon,” and was signed “Vigilance.” For more on Robinson, Flower, and Robert Hall, see Timothy Whelan, “‘I have confessed myself a devil’: Crabb Robinson’s Confrontation with Robert Hall, 1798-1800,” Charles Lamb Bulletin, New Series 121 (2003): 2-25; and Timothy Whelan,   “Henry Crabb Robinson and Godwinism.,” Wordsworth Circle 33 (2002): 58-69.