Benjamin Flower, Newgate, to Eliza Gould, the Gurneys, Walworth, Wednesday, 18 September 1799.

   Covetousness, I hope My Dear Eliza, is not always a sin, if it is, I must confess, I have reason to exclaim—Peccavi! Your notes, when they convey to me a favourable account of your health, afford me inexpressible satisfaction, but when I contrast them with your letters to others, as with your former letters to me, I feel like the miser, who is not content with his treasure, but wishing for an increase. Altho’ so far from requesting you to write a line which might occasion fatigue, or in the smallest degree procrastinate your recovery, I would on the contrary entreat you not to write that line, yet if without any injury to yourself, you could begin a Folio Sheet, write a paragraph occasionally as you were inclined, until it is full.  Need I say the pleasure I should experience on its reception, more especially at a period I am so long deprived of your company.

   Now—for a little journal of occurrences since my last.  My Brother and Sister, after dining with me, with George Dyer, returned home about three o’clock.  They have behaved so affectionately to me, and so respectfully to you, from the moment they indeed guessed my intentions, that I need not say, I love them more than ever. 

   Mrs Shepherd came agreeably to her note, bringing a pound of excellent Souchong Tea with her, yesterday afternoon.  She was much disappointed not seeing you.  I told her, I could not well inform her in time of your illness, and indeed that your absence was a just punishment for her not coming to see me sooner, that I was resolved she should sit an hour or two with an old friend, and desired her to be resigned, altho her pleasure was so necessarily diminished by her new friend not being present.  We however talked much of you, I told her, altho’ ignorant of your person, she should immediately commence acquaintance with your mind.  The Sunday School letters were read—similar comments were made as on similar occasions.  She afterwards read me an admirable letter from a young friend of hers—I was, towards the close, expressing my admiration of a remarkably finely written paragraph—when immediately followed an apology—“I hope you’ll excuse all this Rhodomontade.” I flung the paper down exclaiming—“This is exactly like the apology for blunders, erasures &c, which you just heard in the letter to Mrs G.  Seriously do you not think, these pretty apologies are meant, as a reproof, from the best epistolary writers of your sex, to such slovenly writers of our sex, as B Flower & Company—thank heaven, I can add, for I know men of much superior abilities, who are, in this respect, as bad as I am.”  Mrs S— acknowledged that in the present instances at least, there was some appearance of truth in what I said.  She left me with an invitation to both of us to visit her as soon as possible.

   I sat up till 12, writing to Miss Jennings, who is really half offended that I have written her scarcely a line for this fortnight past.

   I arose at seven and closed my parcel for the Cambridge Intelligencer.

   I had an agreeable literary breakfast, with Mr Parnell, (whom I mentioned in a former letter) and another University gentleman.  I wish you had been present on more accounts than one.  You would have enlivened the conversation, and have paid proper attention to the breakfast table.  We loitered at breakfast above an hour.

   I am just favoured with your “Official bulletin of Health.” Altho’ its contents are, upon the whole, favourable, I hope you have made a point of mentioning, the circumstance of your “breathing with difficulty,” tho’ but for a short period and be sure not to omit informing me, what Mr Gurney said respecting it.  I do not like the slightest symptoms of the kind, as I have known instances in which they have been fatal presages of symptoms more frequent and dangerous.  Anxious as I must be to see you, I depend upon your following every Iota of medical directions in this, as well as in every other respect. 

   I know not what to reply to your hint about my Newspaper paragraphs. Surely there is no Situation like mine, in which it is so difficult to unite the path of duty with the path of safety.  We are now approaching a State in which it will be seen—whether we can continue to act upon the noble sentiment so well expressed, (you will recollect where)—“The strong impulse of duty, I trust will ever outweigh with me all inferior considerations.” How happy shall I be, when sett­led at Cambridge, I shall reap the advantage of your opinion respecting every paragraph I write, before it appears in my paper.

   Your happiness I hope never, in any single action of my life, to lose sight of.  I am persuaded you will never give me an opinion but what your Conscience will approve.  But—away with all “heart sinkings.”

   My Spirits are better than for some time past.  Get well as fast as you can, let me see you, as soon as I can with perfect safety.  Make haste into Devonshire—that you may make haste back again,—and make me as happy as I expect or wish to be in this world as soon as possible.

                    Your most sincere & affecte B Flower

Newgate

Sep 18.99—1/2 past one—

Brother William [William Flower, Benjamin's older brother] has been here—has driven hard for the Post—I am to let him know when you come again.

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. 113-115. 

George Dyer (1755-1841) was educated at Christ’s Hospital, London, and Emmanuel College, Cambridge, where he graduated with a B.A. in 1778.  After spending several years (1779-85) as a Baptist tutor (both for Robert Robinson at Cambridge and at J. C. Ryland’s academy at Northampton) and as a Particular Baptist minister in Oxford, Dyer became a Unitarian.  A final attempt at the ministry, this time as an assistant to John Prior Estlin in the Unitarian chapel at Lewin’s Mead, Bristol, failed to materialize in 1791, after which Dyer removed to London, employing himself in various kinds of literary labors the rest of his life.  A gentle but eccentric scholar who composed a considerable amount of poetry (much to the chagrin of his friends Charles Lamb, S. T. Coleridge, and Robert Southey), Dyer nevertheless produced some noteworthy writings, especially his early political works-Inquiry into the nature of subscription to the Thirty-nine Articles (1789); The complaints of the poor people of England (1793); Dissertation on theory and practice of benevolence (1795); Memoirs of the life and writings of Robert Robinson (1796); and of special interest to Flower during his imprisonment, An address to the people of Great Britain on the doctrine of libel (1799). 

Throughout the month of September, Flower continued his attack upon England’s war with France and the continuation of the slave trade.  On 7 September he ridiculed the notion that the war in Europe was about freedom and liberation, especially when such notions came from those guilty of perpetuating slavery in the British colonies.  “We confess,” Flower argued, “that with our ideas of justice, humanity, and more especially of christianity, there are indeed very few wars in which all the parties do not merit the name—Robbers: there are High-sea, as well as High-way robbers; to what nation these terms are more peculiarly applicable, we leave our readers to determine; but we ought to be very careful how we apply the word, for fear it should be retorted.  What has been our conduct in the East-Indies some years back, but a system of the most atrocious Robbery, and we may add Murder?  What is the Slave-Trade, still, in violation of engagements the most solemn, sanctioned by the Legislature, but a system of the most infernal Robbery, Plunder and Massacre?  really those ‘Whose houses are made of glass, ought to be cautious’ …”  On 14 September he lambasted the war effort and the increased body toll, national debt, and staggering tax load it was inflicting upon the English people.   When will the people learn, Flower asked, that “the slaughter of millions is not the best way to social order; that the desolation of the human species is not the most proper mode of supporting regular government ...”?  On 28 September Flower argued that it was time for Englishmen to abolish “the infernal traffic [of the slave trade]: let them enter into non-consumption agreements respecting West India produce; let them at least resolve to relinquish, except for medicinal purposes, the use of sugar, as long as the slave trade is continued.  This would, most certainly acc­omplish the benevolent end proposed ... Is this exalted virtue to be met with in novels only? ... As to our West India merchants, planters, and slave dealers,-who have long been fattening, and who steeled to every feeling of justice and humanity, are resolved if possible to continue to fatten on the slavery, the tears, and the blood of their fellow creatures—We hope their distresses will bring on a sense of justice and of humanity.”