Benjamin Flower at Cambridge to Eliza Gould at Dodbrook, Monday, 26-28 Oct­ober 1799.

                                             Cambridge Oct. 26. 1799—Saturday

   Whatever blunders or blots may accompany my letters, there is one thing you will always find me exact in—the acknowledgement of your letters, and a reference to my own.  I do not like to lose any of your’s, nor do I suppose it is your wish to lose any of mine.  This will serve as answer to your Postscript.  I wrote to you on the 24th—I likewise sent you two lines written on my paper sent last night.  This morning brought me yours dated the 22d: if you are as correct in the date as you are in every thing else, I ought to have received your favour Yesterday.  When I opened your letter perceiving it dated from Wellington, and (so unusual with you) the third page of a small 4to sheet almost blank, something like a cloud I felt gathering over my mind; but before I got thro’ your very short, but very sweet epistle, I found it like the rising sun on the fine morning on which I am now writing: every vapour was speedily dissipated.  I will not now enquire who it was “cheated me out of long letter.” I will only say that I do insist upon it, that the cheat (a female I suppose) does not serve me again in a similar manner.  My now temporary pleasure which I should have received in the length of a lett­er is swallowed up in the substance of the short one you sent me.  “You are quite well,” and I am quite happy—or rather to speak correctly—I am as happy as I can be while you are absent.

   Neither will I abuse your London “rote practitioner,” for his stupidity in keeping you so long under a course of medicine and neglecting the most plain and effectual remedy.  The principal use of dwelling on past misconduct either in ourselves or others, is to prevent such misconduct in future.  Blessed be God your great physician and healer!  As you know he is a God of order, and makes use of means in almost all of his dispensations, you I trust will be careful to use every means in your power to preserve your restored health, and to render it permanent.  

   We have no post to London tonight, I am engaged this afternoon to go out of town, and to spend to morrow with a most friendly family, a respectable wealthy farmer’s about 7 miles from Cambridge, where I may venture to promise you, some pleasant social hours.   As I cannot put my letter in the post to morrow, and as I have too much business which must be done to day, to let me finish my sheet before I leave town, I trust the quantity I am determined to send will make up for the time, and I must add for the quality.  You probably have not forgot what I dutily told you in conversation.  Our traffic is similar to that between the European and some of the Indian nations: the latter give the former, gold, silver & precious stones: the former give in return Iron, glass beads, & plenty of articles of a quality which will not bear a comparison, but which exceed it in weight and bulk.  What I am to do when I receive your promised mines from Devonshire, I know not, and I must trust to your generosity.

   Surely no souls were ever paired or matched like ours.  How have you in four or five lines in relating your own past experience so completely described mine.  Tho’ the cause may be different the fact is—“I had till August last resigned my title to happiness of a certain description, and had yielded so far to the influence of misanthropy, or some sentiment of a kindred quality, as to guard every avenue of my heart”—lest I should feel the poignant effects of disappointed affection.  Your piety is such that you can bear to think of death; your religious fortit­ude is such that you can survey the grave without terror.  I will therefore tell you what has frequently been my reply within these three years to the common question—When do you intend marrying?  Marrying I have exclaimed—Never!   Were my affections to be engaged—I should lose the beloved object before I had well enjoyed her!   The speech was made as all these of a similar description are according to present feelings.  The sentiment indeed frequently presented itself during the suspense I found my mind for some days before I addressed you.  But I could not bear the thought of parting with you, or seeing you devoted to another.  During your late (I trust I use the proper word) your late illness, the same sentiment I more than once felt as an arrow at my heart.  A thousand thanks to my God, it is dislodged, and I console myself—yea I am happy in the reflection that such are the leadings of Providence, so remarkable are the circumstances which have brought us together, that happiness, all that we can in this world wish or desire will be our lot, and (for I must never quit my anchor when touching on this subject, and not being able to forget, that we are on a sea,) that this happiness is only a prelude to that which is infinitely superior.

   For these fifteen years past, altho’ I have enjoyed the friendship, and been honoured with the confidence of several of your sex, yet I have not during that term felt that partiality which would, with my Ideas, have justified me in seeking a union for life.  You are already acquainted with my early attachments.  Ever since, my experience has been much like that of Ferdinand in his address to Miranda in Shakespear’s Tempest.

  - - - - Full many a Lady

I’ve ey’d with true regard; and many a time

The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage

Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues

Have I liked several women, never any

With so full soul, but some defect in her

Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owned

And put it to the foil—But You—O!  You—

I am afraid to finish the quotation, lest you, my best beloved Eliza, should suspect me of what I have during our intimacy carefully avoided—Flattery. Shall I now I am on the subject of female friendships & attachments remark, that I cannot but be thankful, that from early life I have been so fond of the company of your sex: my acquaintance have been such as would do honour to any man: I early acquired a sort of reverence for the sex which has been one means of preserving me from a vice almost universally prevalent, a vice it shocks me to say hardly thought such by numbers of both sexes: I should have hardly the courage in some companies of my own sex to make a declaration which however I am sure will not lower me in your opinion.  You know the worst part of my life: it therefore gives me, now I am about being united to one whose life has been blameless, great satisfaction to reflect, that I never robbed a single individual of your sex of her honour, or added to her dishonour.  I am happy to think that I am in any respect worthy of you.

Oct. 28.  Monday

   This morning on my return home I found your note dated on the 24th from Tiverton. I will not mind the mistake of your going a few miles out of the way, as long as you are “quite well”; only remember that as you take Tiverton in your way to Dodbrook, you will not have to call there on your return, and nothing will I hope prevent your return to London by the most direct way, and in the most expeditious manner your health will allow.  I dined yesterday with a party of friends one of whom (the Rev Mr Smith) returned last Saturday from Bedford where he had been a fortnight on a visit.  We had much conversation about Mr Hilliard, Mrs Smith (the Printer) Mr & Mrs Squire, and “tho’ last, not least in love” Miss Gould.  I fear the Kempston Sunday School will not flourish as it did while its founder and Patroness was present.  Mr & Mrs S- are talked of not very much to their credit.  He gave in his income to the Commissioners at 200£ per Annum. On its being returned as incorrect, he gave in another statement which he afterwards swore to, of 80£ only.

   Wherever I have been I am under a promise to bring you with me.  Part of our entertainment on my last visit was the perusal of your letters, those you wrote me in the year ’95, and your Sunday School letters.  I really hope you were mistaken when you told me I did not answer your last letter at the period alluded to.  Surely I could not be such an insensible unmannerly brute!  I must say for myself if that was the case, it was the only instance in which I ever behaved in such a manner.  I do expect that in your reply to this letter, you would enter into a particular explanation of the phrases—“My disorder is quite gone—I am quite well.” Is the complaint in your lungs entirely removed—have you no soreness, no difficulty of breathing.  Is walking or riding unattended with fatigue?” Are you capable of your usual mental exertions without experiencing head ache or weariness.  Well or ill—you must not indeed you must not sit long at a time in a bending posture to writing.  Let me entreat you, by our mutual love to beware of fresh cold: when I only imagine anything of the kind, I assure you I suffer extremely.   Of your returning with a “good understanding” I have no doubt, but I shall expect likewise to see the “beautiful countenance,” full of health, sprightliness and sensibility, such as it was previous to your last illness.    

   I knew you would like “Fellowes’s Christian Philosophy”; but I shall not be content with reading it solus, nor must you; I promise myself some happy social hours when we shall read and converse over it together. 

   Turn it over in your mind—Where should you prefer being married—at Walworth, Cambridge, or Hertford?  take your choice, only fix on that place, where we may be united the soonest.  My Brother and Miss Jennings both I  assure you press it on me (tho’ they have no jest of occasion) and repeat—“the sooner you are married the better.” It strikes me whether as you must return to London, where I hope to spend some time with you—whether Walworth may not be the best place for us to be united at: will it not be most convenient on account of the licence; but I assure you, my Dearest life, your choice will be mine.  You know my wish—As soon as possible—the means or manner of accomplishing it, you shall be the entire mistress of.

   I shall be a little curious to hear how all my old Tiverton acquaintance do.  I suppose you saw Follett, and our mutual good friend Mrs Dennys—was she as polite as ever, as usual, to people whom she had ill used, and tormented when living with her?  Had you any remarks made on our connection.

   You will not fail writing me every other post.  I suppose there is no Post on Friday from Kingsbridge, as there is none from Exeter on the Saturday.  So if you write on the Saturday after you receive this it will reach me as soon as if you wrote on the Friday.  You must have had such budgets of mine, on your arrival at Dodbrook, that I shall think myself very fortunate if you could get thro’ them without yawning; if you are not now tired of my letters I will venture to guess you never will be.  I hope you have found your father, mother and their whole family well.  How I should rejoice could I make me at your fire side.  Remember me respectfully to them.  God Almighty perfect your health and strength, and make you happy in reigning in the heart and affections of him who deems it the happiest occurrence of his whole life that he can subscribe himself

                                 Sincerely and entirely

                                             Your B Flower

P.S.  Have you made any observations of a political nature during your peregrin­ations?  Do you think the temper of the people at all altered?  The late events on the Continent are so very adverse to our ministers, that I have some hope the people may a little recover their senses.  I am fearful indeed the nation is too corrupt effectually to reform itself: but with respect to our happiness, a ministry of merely ordinary wickedness, will not molest us. But if I fill the small remains of my paper I shall be too late for the Post.

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. 169-73 (a more annotated text than that which appears on this site). 

The Revd Thomas Smith spent several years as pastor of the Third Meeting (Independent) in Bedford, serving as Flower’s agent for the Intelligencer from 1793 to 1796; Samuel Hillyard (1770-1839) was minister of the Independent congregation at the Old Meeting in Bedford. John Follett (1743-1826) pastored the Steps Meeting (Independent) in Tiverton from 1765 to 1815, the church Benjamin Flower attended during his time in Tiverton.