Reference to Beddome by William Steele in 1777

In a letter written from William Steele 1715-1785, brother of Anne, to his 24 year old niece Mary Steele 1753-1813 (who married Thomas Dunscombe 1748-1811 but only in 1797) on Tuesday, September 9, 1777, Steele refers to a smallpox epidemic in Bristol that necessitates his returning to Broughton via Amesbury, He hopes to “see Stonehenge”. He mentions a rumour that Beddome's protege Mr [Nathaniel] Rawlin(g)s has been asked by Trowbridge Baptists to leave Bristol [or Broughton?] and return to Trowbridge as their preacher, working in the clothing trade with his wife's relations. He says that he met Mr and Mrs Bedome [sic] at Mr Norton's on September 8 and Beddome (by then over 60) preached at Broadmead on the Sunday morning (presumably September 7). He also describes Henry Kent who “has become so great a beau” in second mourning. The letter includes a postscript from “Amanda” [Miss Amanda Froud] to “Sylvia” [Mary Steele].

Robert Norton 1744-1808, was a Bristol clothier, married to Hannah Evans (1746-1807), daughter of Hugh and Sarah Evans. He was also brother-in-law to Thomas Mullett (1745-1818). Like Mullett who removed to London he would leave Bristol and the Broadmead Church for Nailsea to become a successful clothier and tobacconist. He was in business with John Heskins (1778-1838), who was married to a daughter of Benjamin Francis, and a son of Beddome's. His daughter Sarah Evans Norton Biggs (1768-1834) would become a friend of the poet Mary Steele and an acquaintance of the diarist Henry Crabb Robinson (1775-1867).

Poem to Ryland

In a book compiled by grandson Samuel Beddome and found in the Angus Library there is a printed poem preserved with the heading we have reproduced here. It must be from the early 1740s.

ORIGINAL POETIC EPISTLE

From the late REV. BEN. B - ME, to the late REV. JOHN RYLAND; written from Tewksbury, the Day after he had left Bristol, his friend Ryland having accompanied him about ten Miles from Town.

DEAR BROTHER, WHEN of your company bereft,

I turn'd a little to the left;

I spurr'd my mare, and made her go
Thro' thick and thin, thro' hail and snow:
But she (alas!) is aged grown,
As by her pace may well be known.
To Tethrington (Tytherington) I came at last,
At nine o'clock, or somewhat past;
Down by the fire I straightway sat,
Hoping the snow wou'd soon abate.
From head to foot (alas) wet thro',
I dry'd my coat, and stockings too.
I ate-and drank, and fed my, Horse:
(The charge was small, the diet coarse:)
But now an hour full expir'd,
And I with waiting almost tir'd;
I call'd to know what was to pay,
Then took my horse and rode away.
Large flakes of snow came down apace,
And still the wind was in my face:
With feet benumb'd and spirits down,
At length I came to Newport town
Then on I passed to Cambridge Inn
And there arrived wet to the skin
Again I drank, again I ate,
And gave my horse a little meat
Again I dry'd, then on I went,
Nor e'er repin'd at what I spent.
Still heavy clouds obscur'd the sky,
Now rains descended from on high.
I travell'd on, and thought of you,
And Bristol friends, and you know who;
Perhaps (said I) some of them see
The beating storm, and think of me.
Sometimes I wish'd that heav'nly grace
Might thus bedew our fallen race.
'The Lord' (said I) 'with gentle show'rs
Visit these barren souls of ours,
Till ev'ry plant of grace within
Be like the earth more fresh and green!'
At Gloster now did I arrive,
A quarter wanting just of five;
At Mrs Smith's I made some stay,
Tir'd with the labours of the day.
Such acts of kindness there I met,
'Twou'd be ungrateful to forget.
A welcome glass, some cheering tea,
I wish'd my RYLAND there with me;
If ever you to Gloster come,
I'd have you make that house your home.
But still to Tewkesbury I must go;
There's nought enduring here below;
And now the heav'ns more fair and bright
(At even tide there oft is light)
I took the hint and mounted straight
And got to Tewkesbury just at eight.
O thou e'er-availing Power above
Accept the tribute of my love.
O thine upholder of my ways
Now move my lips to grateful praise!
This night I've had a little sleep
And onwards am engag'd to keep.
The Lord be with you, my dear friend,
And me to those I know commend,
To parents dear be love expressed,
And then to Mrs Evans next
First read, then burn these doggerel lines.
But I must haste - day brightly shines.
Then think of me as I of you,
My dearest friend once more adieu.

Funeral Sarah Evans 1751

Sarah Evans (nee Browne) 1714-1751 was the first wife of Hugh Evans and mother of Caleb. Born in 1714, she died on July 8, 1751, en route to Pershore. She was buried in Pershore and Beddome (who Caleb calls her most intimate and esteemed friend in a sermon for his father's second wife, Ann) took the funeral, preaching from Matthew 3:12. The sermon was not printed. 

Beddome also wrote these words for her headstone:

Graceful her person, beautiful her mind,

Good-sense and virtue, true religion join'd:

But few excell'd, in every part of life,

As daughter, sister, parent, friend and wife.

Lo! In this silent tomb her ashes lie!

Then learn of her to live, O learn to die!