Benjamin Flower at Cambridge to Eliza Gould at Dodbrook, Thursday, 21 Nov­ember 1799.

                                                         Cambridge  Nov. 21.  1799

My Dearest Eliza

   Although I wrote to you by the last post, I cannot be easy without replying to your letter of this day, and yet I am so puzzled that I scarcely know how to reply to it with that satisfaction I wish, either to you or myself.  The account of your health I will endeavour to make the best of: but after having in almost all your late letters read—“The complaint on my lungs is entirely removed,” I am pained to read of even the most temporary return of that complaint.  I will hope that you will go on to that complete recovery I have now for so many, many weeks longed for. 

   Towards the close of your letter, you ask me “If the weather continues fine a fortnight longer would it not be prudent for me to remain for the benefit of it”? Now I cannot help confessing, that if you had not promised me a faithful account of your health, and if your letters for this fortnight past had not assured me, that you were getting better & better every day, the above question would much alarm me; because it implies such a material alteration of the plan you had determined upon in your letter of the 13th. in which you intimated your wish to set out on your return this week, but on account of your parents entreaties agreed to extend your stay till a fortnight from that date, adding—“neither wind nor weather shall thus hinder me from entering on my journey.” On this information I fixed your time of setting out, and our succeeding plan quite conformable to our wishes.  You now ask for a fortnight longer.  To which I reply, our plan then of being married at Walworth, at the time you mention cannot be accomplished.  Miss Jennings is firmly of opinion if you have gained strength enough to travel, you had better not lose a day in returning, for she thinks it will be very imprudent to have your journey to take in the very depth of winter, and is by no means persuaded that the keen air of Devonshire forwards your recovery, so much as the soft air of Cambridgeshire would.  I cannot my Dearest love, and indeed you prohibit me from disguising my feelings.  If therefore you are not able to commence your journey, so as to be in London by Saturday sennight, after having yourself proposed setting out even in the present week, nothing you can write can persuade me, that in spight of all the favourable accounts you have sent me you are not in an alarming state.  If it is so stay by all means and I will set off for Devon in the course of next week, but if not, I do earnestly recommend you to commence your journey on Monday, at the latest on Tuesday next, so that you may be in London on the Saturday following.  Monday would certainly be the preferable day because you have the longer time for Wellington and Bath, and I am sure it is of great consequence your staying at the former place to see Mr Holman, to whom I much regret you did not fulfil your promise of writing, the moment you found yourself so ill at Tiverton, and so reduced at Dodbrook.

   You see my Dearest Love by this letter, that I retract in as full a manner as you can wish, every expression which indicated a design to “disguise” my feelings.  Were you in health, you may be assured I should never have attempted the least disguise; but when in answer to a former letter you so affectingly as well as affectionately write me for answer—“I do believe the anxiety of mind I now experience contributes in a great measure to disorder me.  The anxiety of mind with which you write is a great drawback on my recovering health.” What my Dearest Eliza can I do in such a cruel predicament?  If I do not describe to you all my feelings you are not easy.  If I do, I throw you into such a state as to retard your recovery, and you must remain a week before you can receive an answer to your letter.  I tell you with respect to myself what I have before told you, that let me feel what I may, nothing materially affects my health, and a favourable account of your’s makes me perfectly well; but by your own account, my letters have injured your health, and I do think that the distance you are from me, the agitation of your mind, by a cruel relative, hasty reports transmitted by friends without foundation, my not being able to answer your letters so that you can receive them earlier than a week from the date on which you write—these circumstances I do think have balanced, if not more than balanced any advantages you may have received from the air and exercise of Devon.  Your own letter above quoted warrants this conclusion. You have however had the satisfaction of seeing your parents, and, as I have already informed you, it is not my own opinion only, you ought to set out on your return as soon as you are able to travel.

   I am afraid to complain on the subject of your letters, I mean the brevity of them, lest you should again misinterpret what I say, and give yourself uneasiness, but your last, indeed it does afford additional evidence of that carelessness which deprives me of the pleasure of having even a moderate sheet filled.  You began your Letter on Sunday, & wrote as I guess for about half an hour: then you left off: this was night: but after having thus about half filled your paper, you defer the next day, writing till 3 oclock in the afternoon, and the consequence is before you had written six lines—you say—“but the post will go out immediately, and I can only promise you a very long letter.” Why did you not begin to write earlier in the day?  You have promised me a very long letter Twenty times of late.  I do not in the least blame you for not fulfilling yr promise, because I am persuaded your health would have been injured.  But do not lose any opportunity of encreasing that delight your letters afford me.  Pray do not write to any one else till I see you.  I have delivered your message to Miss Jennings—she I believe will write to you, but I told her you should not answer her letter before your return to London.  I told you in my last that I should direct my paper of to morrow to you as usual, but as if you set out on Monday, it will not probably reach you, I will direct it to be left for you at the Post Office, Totness.   I have engaged to visit a family a few miles distance on Saty afternoon, to spend Sunday with them, & return on Monday morng.  I will write to you before I set out, but as there is no post on Saty it will not go from hence till Sunday Evening.  I shall direct to you at Mrs Quartley’s, Wellington. 

   Pray write me a line from Exeter, and from Wellington; tell me faithfully what Holman says. Had you not better give him a line to inform him of your coming.  Remember what I have often said, that with whatever agitation I appear to write, one favourable letter from you sets all right. Indeed I am at the present moment easy.  Providence will not disappoint us.  But see you I must  either in London or Devon, before a fortnight expires.  Adieu! 

                                                         Yr B. Flower

Miss Jennings begs you will not go out before breakfast. She is sure the air is too keen for you.  I am going to set up very late to night to give the French Rascals a trimming.

Text: Timothy Whelan, ed., Politics, Religion, and Romance: The Letters of Benjamin Flower and Eliza Gould, 1794-1808 (Aberystwyth: National Library of Wales, 2008), pp. 202-04.