3*
Engraved "ty p Ldghtfbct ,
MEMOKIALS
,,.,..
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE,
fiEI/F.CTEI) AND ARRANGED
Jrom ^er Jfett^rs, Jtane, anbr otfjtt
BT
CECILIA LUCY BRIGHTWELL.
NORWICH :
FLETCHER AND ALEXANDER;
LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, & Co.
MDCCCLIV.
PREFACE.
IN the preparation of these Memoirs for publication, the
principal part of the labour has been undertaken by my
daughter; the pressure of other engagements having only
permitted me to undertake the general direction and super
vision of the whole.
As the Executor of Mrs. Opie, her papers and letters
came into my hands; and it devolved on me to decide
in what way to dispose of them. There had been, (I
believe,) a general impression among her friends, that she
would herself prepare an account of her Life; but although
she seems to have made some efforts at commencing the task,
and the subject was often affectionately recommended, and
even urged upon her, she has left it a matter of regret to her
friends, (and especially so to the compilers of these memoirs,)
that no " Autobiography" was found among her papers.
Nor did Mrs. Opie ever distinctly give any directions as to
the publication of her MSS. or any Memoir of her Life;
but we have, we think, strong presumptive evidence, that
she anticipated, if not desired, that it should be done.
IV PREFACE.
Not long before she died, she said, that her Executor
would have no light task with her papers; and a few days
before she breathed her last, when she could no longer hold
a pen, she called her attendant to her, and dictated a most
touching and affectionate farewell address, to me and my
daughter, directing the delivery of various small articles as
remembrances to a few most intimate friends, and requesting
us to complete what she had left undone; adding, that she
had confidence in our judgment, and believed that we should
" do everything for the best."
It has been with an earnest desire to justify this trust,
and to perfect, as far as in our power, that which she had,
in fact commenced, but left incomplete, that these pages have
been put to the press.
It will be seen, in the course of these Memoirs, that the
materials from which they are compiled, are principally
Papers, Letters, and Diaries, of Mrs. Opie s own writing;
a few Letters preserved by her, and judged to be of general
interest, and bearing upon her history, we have thought it
well to give. It would have been no difficult task, to have
greatly extended these Memoirs, had it been deemed ex
pedient to make a free use of the Letters received by her,
and of which a very large number were found among her
papers; but we have not felt ourselves at liberty to adopt
such a course, and we trust there will be found in this
Volume few (may we say we hope no) violations of private
and confidential communications.
PREFACE. V
My acquaintance with the subject of these Memoirs, com
menced nearly forty years ago ; and well do I remember the
first impressions made on me by her frank and open manner,
the charm of her fine and animated countenance, her artless
cheerfulness and benevolence, and the extraordinary powers
of her conversation. But it was not till the time of Dr.
Alderson s last illness, that my acquaintance with Mrs. Opie
ripened into confidential friendship. Prom that period to
the time of her decease, I had the happiness to enjoy much
of her society, and to hear her recollections of her earlier
days, and her graphic descriptions of the scenes and
characters, which had been subjects of interest to her during
the course of her long life; and she subsequently often read
me a large portion of the correspondence she continued to
maintain.
Gifted with an extraordinary memory, a reverence for
truth, extending even to the minutest details, a disposition
to look at the best side of everything and eveiybody, and
with almost dramatic power in the exhibition of character
and manners; Mrs. Opie when she entered into any details
of her former life, painted the whole scene with such truth
fulness and power, as to make it live before her hearers, and
fix it in their memory.
As an Author, her works have undergone the ordeal of
public criticism, and some additional testimony is afforded
by these Memoirs, to the favourable impression they made.
It will be seen that Sir Walter Scott, Dr. Chalmers, Southey,
and other men of note, alike agreed in paying their tribute
VI PREFACE.
of admiration to her power of touching the heart, and
awakening the softer passions.
The great leading feature of Mrs. Opie s character was
pure, Christian benevolence; charity in its highest sense.
None that knew her could fail to observe this. Unwearied in
her efforts to relieve the distresses of others, and limited in
her own means, she was almost ingenious in some of the
methods she devised for doing so, and made it matter of duty
to avail herself of her influence with her wealthier friends to
induce them to assist her endeavours. Her patience in
dealing with the incessant importunities of persons who
applied for her aid, was almost more than exemplary : but she
found a blessing in doing good ; and, in her parting address,
before alluded to, she has not failed to urge " the remem
brance of the poor, so as to be blessed by them."
Of her religion, the latter part of this Memoir will best
speak, and especially the short extracts from her private
Journals. These, speaking from the depths of her own
heart, shew how holily and humbly she walked before her
God ; how strictly she called herself to account day by day ;
and how firmly she relied on the atonement of the Lord
Jesus Christ as her hope in life and support in death.
Mrs. Opie had no liking for religious controversy, and
seemed to me always desirous of avoiding it. I believe
she disliked dogmatic theology altogether. Her religion
was the " shewing out of a good conversation her works,
with meekness of wisdom."
She ever deemed her union with " the Friends" the happiest
PREFACE. Vil
event of her life; and she did honour to her profession of
their principles, by shewing that they were not incompatible
with good manners and refined taste. She met with some
among them who have always appeared to me to come the
nearest to the standard of Christian perfection ; these were her
dearest friends on earth, and she is now., with them, numbered
among the blessed dead who have died in the Lord, who have
ceased from their labours, and whose works do follow them.
THOMAS BRIGHTWELL.
Norwich, May, 1854.
A SECOND EDITION of this work having been speedily called
for, the Author has found but little opportunity for making
additions to it, and the present is, therefore, excepting some
trifling omissions, and the introduction of a few additional
lines, simply a reprint of the former volume.
C. L. BRIGHTWELL.
Norwich, July, 1864.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Pago.
Birth and Parentage; her Father; her Mother s Family;
her Mother; Sonnet to her Mother s Memory; Early
Reminiscences ; Early Terrors and their Cure ; the Black
Man ; Crazy Women ; Bedlam ; Visits to the Inmates ;
Early Training ; the Female Sailor ; Abrupt Conclusion . 1
CHAPTER II.
First Sorrow; the Assizes; Sir Henry Gould; the Usury
Cause; "Christian;" Mr. Bruckner; Girlish Days ; her
Friendship with Mrs. Taylor; Mrs. T. s Memoir of her . 22
CHAPTER III.
Norfolk and Norwich, and their Inhabitants; Young Love;
the Drama ; Song writing and Cromer ; Politics ; Yisit to
London ; Letters from thence ; the Old Bailey Trials . . 34
CHAPTER IV.
French Emigrants ; Letter to Mrs. Taylor ; Letter of the
Duke d Aiguillon; Yisit to London and Letter from
thence ; London again ; Letter from Mrs. AYollstonecroft ;
First introduction to Mr. Opie ; Mr. Opie s early history ;
Return to Norwich ; Preparations for Marriage .... 51
CHAPTER V.
Marriage ; Early Menage ; Authorship ; Lay on portrait of
Mrs. Twiss; Letter to Mrs. Taylor; Yisit to Norwich;
Letter from Mr. Opie; Mrs. Opie to Mrs. Taylor;
Mr. Opie s Mother 68
X CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VI.
Page.
"The Father and Daughter;" Critique in the Edinburgh;
three Letters to Mrs. Taylor; volume of "Poems;"
"Go, youth beloved;" Letter from Sir J. Mackintosh;
S. Smith s Lecture 79
CHAPTER VII.
The Trials of Genius; Domestic Troubles; Letters to Mrs.
Taylor; Journey to France; Arrival at Paris; the
Louvre; the First Consul; Charles James Fox; The
Soiree ; Kosciusko 91
CHAPTER VIII.
The Review and Buonaparte; "Fesch;" General Massena;
Return to England; Letter to Mrs. Colombine; Visit to
Norwich; "Adeline Mowbray;" Letter to Mrs. Taylor;
Mr. Erskine 108
CHAPTER IX.
Prosperity; " Simple Tales ;" Visit to Southill ; LadyRoslyn;
Mr. Opie a " Lectures ;" his Illness ; his Death . . . 125
CHAPTER X.
Return to Norwich; "Poems;" Memoir of her Husband;
Letter from Lady Charleville ; from Mrs. Inchbald ; Visit
to London ; Party at Lady E. Whi thread s ; Visit to
Cromer; "Temper;" " Tales of Real Life ;" Soiree at
Madame de Stael s 135
CHAPTER XI.
Letters of Mrs. Opie to Dr. Alderson, written during her visit
in London in the year 1814 146
CHAPTER XII.
Friendship with the Gurney family; two Letters from
Mr. J. J. Gurney; Death of his Brother; Mrs. Opie s
Return from London; Early Religious Opinions; Mrs.
Roberts; Recollections of Sir AV. Scott; Visit to Edin
burgh ; " Valentine s Eve ;" Visit to Mr. Hayley ; " Tales
of the Heart;" Letter to Mr. Hayley; Letter from
Mrs. Inchbald; her death 167
CONTENTS. XI
CHAPTER XIII.
Page.
Illness of Dr. Alderson; His Daughter s anxiety; Priscilla
Gurney ; Bible and A nti- Slavery Meetings ; " Madeline ; "
Letter from Southey; " Lying;" Letters to Mrs. Fry;
Mrs. Opie joins the Society of Friends; Dr. Alderson s
Decline and Death 183
CHAPTER XIY.
Consolation in Sorrow ; Letter to a Friend ; Journal for the
year 1827 197
CHAPTER XV.
Yearly Meetings ; Letter from London; Letters from Ladies
Cork and Charleville; Detraction Displayed;" Letter
from Archdeacon Wrangham ; Cromer; Diary for 1829 . 212
CHAPTER XYI.
Yisit to Paris; Journal during her Stay there; Letter from
thence; Return to England; Letter from Lafayette;
Sonnet "on seeing the Tricolor;" Southey s "Colloquies;"
Letter from Mrs. Fry ; " Nursing Sisters" 229
CHAPTER XYII.
Revolution of "the Three Days;" Mrs. Opie goes to Paris
again ; her Journal there 245
CHAPTER XVIII.
Letter on the Distribution of Prizes at the Catholic Schools ;
Continuation of Journal ; Letter giving an Account of her
Yisit to the French Court 264
CHAPTER XIX.
Influence of Christian Fellowship; Mrs. Opie Returns to
England; gives up Housekeeping; Journey into Cornwall;
Letters and Journal during her Residence there . . . 284
CHAPTER XX.
Return to JSTorwich ; Extracts from her Diary ; Dr. Chalmers
and Mrs. Opie at Earlham ; Lines addressed by Mrs. Opie
to Dr. Chalmers; " Lays for the Dead;" Yisit to London;
Journey to Scotland ; her Journal there ; The Highlands ;
her Yisit to Abbotsford ... 302
Xii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXI. pagft
Journey to Belgium ; Visit to Ghent ; Journal of her Travels ;
Letter from the Rhine Falls ; Homeward Journey ; Arrival
at Calais 3!7
CHAPTER XXII.
Mrs. Opie s Removal to Lady s Lane; Letters, Visitors, and
Writing; Spring Assizes of 1838; Memoirs of Sir W.
Scott; Visits to London and Northrepps; Death of
Friends; Anti-Slavery Convention; Winter and Spring
of 1840-41 ; Visits to Town and Letters from thence in
1842-43 ; Illness ; Close of 1843 ; Letter of Reminiscences
of Thomas Hogg . 333
CHAPTER XXIII.
Death of Mr. Briggs; Summer Assizes, 1844; "Reminiscences
of Judges Courts ;" " Reminiscences of George Canning" 353
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Seventy-fifth year; Notes and Incidents in the years
1 845-46; Deaths of Mr. J. J. Gurney and of Dr. Chalmers;
Letter from Cromer; Death of Mrs. E. Alderson; Mrs.
Opie s Visit to London in the Spring of 1848; Letter
from thence 366
CHAPTER XXY.
The Castle Meadow house ; Indisposition ; Increase of Crime ;
Rush s Trial; Summer Assizes of 1849; Death of Bishop
Stanley; Summer and Autumn of 1850; Farewell Visit
to London; the Great Exhibition; Summer of 1852;
Rheumatic Gout ; Notes ; last Visit to Cromer ; the Spring
and Summer of 1853; Sudden Illness, October 23rd;
Patience and Cheerfulness; Increasing Sickness; Leave
Taking; Death 382
CONCLUSION 404
MEMORIALS-U.
OF THE
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE.
CHAPTER I.
BIETH AND PARENTAGE; HER FATHER; HER MOTHER S FAMILY; HER
MOTHER; SONNET TO HER MOTHER S MEMORY; EARLY REMINISCENCES;
EARLY TERRORS AND THEIR CURE ; THE BLACK MAN ; CRAZY WOMEN ;
BEDLAM; VISITS TO THE INMATES; EARLY TRAINING; THE FEMALE
SAILOR; ABRUPT CONCLUSION.
AMELIA OPIE, the only child of James Alderson,
M.D., and of Amelia, his wife, was born the 12th of
November, 1769, in the parish of St. George,
Norwich; she was baptized by the Rev. Samuel
Bourn, then the Presbyterian Minister of the
Octagon chapel, in that city. Her father was one
of a numerous family, the children of the Rev.
Mr. Alderson, of Lowestoft, of whom some account
is given in Gillingwater s History of that " ancient
town." From this we gather that 6 Mr. Alderson
was a very worthy, well-disposed man, of an ex
ceeding affable and peaceable disposition, much
esteemed by the whole circle of his acquaintance,
and, as he lived much respected, so he died
universally lamented." His death happened in 1760.
Xll CONTENTS.
CHAFFER XXI.
Page.
Journey to Belgium; Visit to Ghent; Journal of her Travels;
Letter from the llhine Falls ; Homeward Journey ; Arrival
at Calais 317
CHAPTER XXII.
Mrs. Opie s Removal to Lady s Lane ; Letters, Visitors, and
Wiiting; Spring Assizes of 1838; Memoirs of Sir W.
Scott; Visits to London and Northrepps; Death of
Friends; Anti- Slavery Convention; "Winter and Spring
of 1840-41; Visits to Town and Letters from thence in
1842-43 ; Illness; Close of 1843 ; Letter of Reminiscences
of Thomas Hogg 333
CHARTER XXIII.
Death of Mr. Briggs; Summer Assizes, 1844 ; "Reminiscences
of Judges Courts;" " Reminiscences of George Canning" 353
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Seventy-fifth year; Notes and Incidents in the years
1 845-46; Deaths of Mr. J. J. Gurney and of Dr. Chalmers;
Letter from Cromer; Death of Mrs. E. Alderson; Mrs.
Opie s Visit to London in the Spring of 1848; Letter
from thence 366
CHAPTER XXV.
The Castle Meadow house ; Indisposition ; Increase of Crime ;
Rush s Trial; Summer Assizes of 1849; Death of Bishop
Stanley; Summer and Autumn of 1850; Farewell Visit
to London; the Great Exhibition; Summer of 1852;
Rheumatic Gout ; Notes ; last Visit to Cromer ; the Spring
and Summer of 1853; Sudden Illness, October 23rd;
Patience and Cheerfulness ; Increasing Sickness ; Leave
Taking; Death 382
CONCLUSION 404
M E M E I AL-SA L ! : "0
OF THE
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH AND PARENTAGE; HER FATHER; HER MOTHER S FAMILY; HER
MOTHER; SONNET TO HER MOTHER S MEMORY; EARLY REMINISCENCES;
EARLY TERRORS AND THEIR CURE ; THE BLACK MAN ; CRAZY WOMEN ;
BEDLAM; VISITS TO THE INMATES; EARLY TRAINING; THE FEMALE
SAILOR; ABRUPT CONCLUSION.
AMELIA OPIE, the only child of James Alderson,
M.D., and of Amelia, his wife, was born the 12th of
November, 1769, in the parish of St. George,
Norwich; she was baptized by the Rev. Samuel
Bourn, then the Presbyterian Minister of the
Octagon chapel, in that city. Her father was one
of a numerous family, the children of the Rev.
Mr. Alderson, of Lowestoft, of whom some account
is given in Gilling water s History of that " ancient
town." From this we gather that " Mr. Alderson
was a very worthy, well-disposed man, of an ex
ceeding affable and peaceable disposition, much
esteemed by the whole circle of his acquaintance,
and, as he lived much respected, so he died
universally lamented." His death happened in 1760.
A MEMORIALS OF THE
In a note the following account of his family is added :
" Four sons and two daughters survive him ; the sons
are all distinguished for their industry and ability,
/.and are. emiprejit in their several professions; James,
ari emirierit* surgeon, at Norwich ; John, a physician,
: :#t JiiiH;;* : Trio*ma, > a merchant, at Newcastle; and
Robert, a barrister, at Norwich. Of the two
daughters, Judith is married to Mr. Woodhouse,
and Elizabeth unmarried."
This was written in 1790. Were the historian
now to add a supplementary notice, with how much
satisfaction would he record, that, in the third gene
ration, this family numbered among its descendants,
Amelia Opie and Sir E. H. Alderson; the former
the child of the eldest brother, the latter the son of
the youngest.
The tender attachment borne by Mrs. Opie to her
father was perhaps her most prominent characteristic.
They were companions and friends through life ; and
when, at length, in a good old age, he was taken
from her, she wept with a sorrow which no time
could obliterate, and for which there was no solace
but in the hope of rejoining him in a better world.
Deeply touching are the evidences of the love which
prompted her pen in its most successful efforts,
influenced her in all the steps she took throughout
her career, and rendered her indefatigable in cheer
ing and soothing him through the long years of his
declining age. Best of all, she was enabled to direct
his mind towards those great truths of the gospel,
which she had learned to love, and in which she
found her support, when the arm of her earthly
friend was about to relax its hold, and leave her
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 3
alone to pursue in solitude the remainder of her
pilgrimage.
Probably the early loss of the wife and mother
was one cause which drew more close the bond of
union between the " Father and Daughter." It
naturally followed that when, at the age of fifteen,
she took the head of her father s table, and the
management of his domestic arrangements, she should
endeavour, as much as possible, to supply the place
which had been left vacant, and that her young
affections should cling more fondly around her re
maining parent. There was also much in the father
calculated to draw to him the love of his child. He
was of fine person and attractive manners, and to
these external advantages was joined something
better and more enduring a kind-hearted and
generous sympathy for the sufferers whom his skill
relieved, and a charity to the poor, which induced him
freely to give them his valuable advice and assistance.
His daughter says, " He prescribed for about four or
five hundred persons at his house every week. The
forms in our large hall in a morning were so full from
half-past eight till eleven, that I could scarcely pass ;
and this he did till the end of the year 1820, or rather
perhaps to the beginning of 1821, when, unable to go
down-stairs, he received the people, at my earnest
desire, in my little drawing-room, till he said he could
receive no one again. Oh ! it was the most bitter
trial he or I ever experienced, when he was forced to
give up this truly Christian duty ; and I was obliged
to tell the afflicted poor people that their kind
physician was no longer well enough to open his
house to receive them, and try to heal their diseases
B 2
4 MEMORIALS OF THE
again. He wept, and so did I ; and they were bitter
tears, for I feared he would not long survive the loss
of his usefulness." Those acts of kindness are not
yet forgotten in his native city ; an aged woman, being
told the other day of the death of Mrs. Opie, recalled
to mind the days of her father, " the doctor," and the
time when he was " very good to the poor folks, that
is, he gaw n em his advice for nothing; and that
was a true charity, lady."
Mrs. Opie s mother, Amelia, was the daughter
of Joseph Briggs, of Cossambaza, up the Ganges,
(eldest son of Dr. Henry Briggs, rector of Holt,
Norfolk, and Grace, his wife,) and of Mary, daughter
of Captain Worrell, of St. Helena. In an old
pocket book, Mrs. Opie has entered the following
memoranda concerning this branch of her maternal
ancestors.
Account of my great, great, great grandfather, Augustine
Briggs, M.P., for Norwich. (From the pedigree of the
Briggs in Blomefield s " History of Norfolk.") An ancient
family of Salle, in Norfolk, who before the reign of Edward
the First assumed the surname of De Ponte, or Pontibus,
i.e. at Brigge or Brigges ; as the ancient family of the Foun-
taines of the same place assumed theirs, of De Fonte or
Fontibus, much about the same time, one we presume dwell
ing by the bridge or bridges, the other by the springs or
fountains heads. The eldest branch of both families con
tinued in Salle till they united in one. William Atte Brigge,
of Salle, called in some deeds W. de Fonte de Salle, was
living at Salle in 1334. John Atte Brigge, his second son,
was alive in 1385. Thomas Brigge, of Holt, the fourth
brother, was alive in 1400; and, in 1392, went to the Holy
Sepulchre of our Lord, an account of which pilgrimage
written by himself is still extant, in a manuscript in Caius
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 5
College Library. Augustine Briggs, mayor, alderman, and
member for Norwich in four Parliaments, was turned out of
the Corporation by the rebels, and restored at the king s
restoration. He joined the Earl of Newcastle s forces at the
siege of Lynn, in 1643. There is a long sword in the family,
with a label in Augustine Briggs own hand writing tied to
it. " This I wore at the siege of Linn, in the servis of the
royal martyr, K. Charles ye First, A. Briggs." He lies
buried in a vault in the church of St. Peter s Mancroft, built
by himself, but he alone of the family lies there. It has
been since appropriated by the Dean and Chapter to another
family, as it was supposed no one was alive to claim it ; but
I, A. Opie, am the lineal descendant and representative of
this excellent man, and the vault was my property. The
following is a translation of part of the Latin inscription on
his mural monument in St. Peter s church : f< He was
indeed highly loyal to his king, and yet a studious preserver
of the ancient privileges of his country; was also firm
and resolute for upholding the Church of England, and
assiduous and punctual in all the important trusts committed
to him, whether in the august assembly of Parliament, his
honourable commands in the militia, or his justiciary affairs
on the bench: gaining the affections of the people by his
hospitality and repeated acts of kindness, which he continued
beyond his death, leaving the following charities by his will,
as a more certain remembrance to posterity, than this
perishing monument erected by his friends, which his
posterity endeavours by this plate to continue to further
ages." He died in 1684, aged 67. He lived in the Briggs
Lane, called after him, which lane is now (1839) widening,
and is to be called D Oyley Street, a proper tribute of respect
to the public spirited individual who subscribed 1600 to
further this improvement.*
Augustine Briggs was also a public benefactor to this, his
native city, for he left "estates and monies to increase the
* Eor aU that it is Briggs Street still ! Ed.
MEMORIALS OF THE
revenue of the Boys and Girls Hospital, and for putting
out two poor boys to trades every year, as can read and write,
and have neither father nor mother to put them forth to such
trades." My cousin, Henry Perronet Briggs, K.A.,* his
male representative, has a very fine picture of him, a half-
length, in his military dress, painted, he believes, by a pupil
of Vandyke. I have a tolerably good three-quarter picture
of him,f Amelia Opie. I have also a portrait of his
daughter-in-law, Hannah Hobart, heiress of Edmund Hobart,
son of the Lord Chief Justice Hobart, afterwards ennobled,
and wife of Dr. W. Briggs, M.D., of the University of
Cambridge, a man of great science and learning, and an
eminent physician.
******
Of the mother of Mrs. Opie but few memorials
remain. She was of a delicate constitution, and
appears to have cherished the habits of retirement, so
naturally preferred by an invalid. Her early death
bereaved her daughter of a mother s care and
guidance at the most critical period of woman s life ;
and we may perhaps trace some features of Mrs. Opie s
character to this event. From the occasional glimpses
we catch of the mother in her daughter s short record
of her own early days, it is evident that she was
possessed of firm purpose and high principle ; a true-
hearted woman, and somewhat of a disciplinarian.
Her steady hand would have curbed the high
spirit of her child, and softened those ebullitions of
youthful glee, which made the young Amelia such
an impetuous, mirthful creature: she would have
* Since deceased.
f This portrait is the first of those which she apostrophizes in
her " Lays for the Dead," and begins
" There hangs a Soldier in a distant age,
Call (1 to his doom my honour d ancestor."
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 7
been more demure and decorous had her mother
lived, but perhaps less charming and attractive.
Speedily as the mother s influence was withdrawn, it
left, notwithstanding, some indelible traces in the
memory of her daughter, who frequently referred to
her, even in her latter days, and usually with refer
ence to Some bad habit from which she had warned
her, or some good one which she had inculcated.
Mrs. Alderson died on the 31st of December, 1784,
in the 39th year of her age.
A series of Letters referring to the death of Mr.
Joseph Briggs and his wife, and the transfer of their
little orphan daughter to England, still exist. They
are principally written by Mr. William Briggs, the
second son of Dr. Henry Briggs, who having died in
1748, (just about the time of his eldest son s decease
in India,) the family affairs were committed to the
care of his next surviving son. He writes thus :
Several years ago my elder brother, Joseph Briggs, went
over to Bengal as a writer in the Company s service; he
married Miss Mary Worrell; he died in May, 1747, and his
widow in the December following ; leaving behind one child,
Amelia. Captain James Irwin, out of friendship to my
brother, took care of his little daughter after the death of her
mamma. The latter end of May, 1749, the child arrived
here in England, and is now in perfect health.
To this kind friend of the orphan, Captain Irwin,
the grateful uncle writes :
London, August 23rd, 1749.
Worthy sir, your letter of December 24th, 1748, and my
very dear niece, Amelia Briggs, came safe to England the
8 MEMORIALS OF THE
latter end of May last, praised be God ! My honoured
father dying in May 1748, yours to him came to me with
one directed for myself, in both which you give very un
common proofs of real friendship. Friendship in prosperity is
common; but in adversity none are true friends but the
pious.
Your great care of my niece has given very sensible
pleasure to all her relations, and all unite with me to return
you sincere and hearty thanks ; at present we can only ex
press our gratitude in words, but should you ever be pleased
to give us an opportunity, I doubt not but you will find us
ready to testify our thanks by useful deeds. I believe you
will meet with a reward more substantial and durable from
our gracious God.
My very great affection for my dear brother Joseph
naturally leads me to love and care for the little orphan as if
it was my own. She will never want whilst I have it in my
power to assist her. She will be a burden to none of her
relations ; for, before she will have any occasion for it, she will
be in possession of a very handsome annuity. At present
she is with my mother in Norfolk, one hundred miles from
London. She is a charming child, and the country agrees
very well with her. The black girl, her nurse, is not re
conciled to England ; and, thinking she never shall be so, she
is determined to return to Bengal by the Christmas ships.
As my mother will give her entire liberty to be at her own
disposal, I believe her design is to enter into service, as other
free women do. If it be in your power, you are very much
desired by all my niece s friends to prevent Savannah s being
bought or sold as a negro.
May the God of all grace and consolation keep and bless
you, dear sir, and all your family, with everything necessary
to make your short passage easy and agreeable through time
into a happy eternity, is the sincere wish and prayer of,
Dear Sir,
Your most obliged humble servant,
W. B.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 9
Seven years after her mother s death, (1791,) she
addressed to her memory the following sonnet.
ON VISITING -CROMER FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THE DEATH
OF MY MOTHER, WITH WHOM I USED FREQUENTLY TO VISIT IT.
Scenes of my childhood, where, to grief unknown,
And, led by Gaiety, I joy d to rove,
Ere in my breast Care fix d her ebon throne,
And her pale rue, with Fancy s roses wove.
~No more, alas ! your wonted charms I view,
Ye speak of comforts I can know no more ;
The faded tints of Memory ye renew,
And wake of fond regret the tearful power.
But would ye bid me still the beauties prize
That on your cliff-crowned shores in state abide,
Bid, aim d in awful pomp, yon billows rise
And seek the realms where Night and Death reside ;
Unusual empire bid them there assume,
And force departed goodness from the tomb !
Many years after, among her " Lays for the Dead,"
appeared some further lines dedicated to her mother,
and, as they have several references to the recollections
she retained of her, and are in themselves very sweet
and full of earnest tenderness of regret, they are
reprinted here :
IN MEMORY OF MY MOTHER.
AN orphan d babe, from India s plain
She came, a faithful slave her guide !
Then, after years of patient pain,
That tender wife and mother died.
Where gothic windows dimly throw
O er the long aisles a dubious day,
Within the time-worn vaults below
Her relics join their kindred clay
10 MEMORIALS OF THE
And I, in long departed days,
Those dear though solemn precincts sought,
When evening shed her parting rays,
And twilight lengthening shadows brought-
There long I knelt beside the stone
Which veils thy clay, lamented shade !
While memory, years for ever gone,
And all the distant past pourtray d !
I saw thy glance of tender love !
Thy cheek of suffering s sickly hue !
Thine eye, where gentle sweetness strove
To look the ease it rarely knew.
I heard thee speak in accents kind,
And promptly praise, or firmly chide ;
Again admir d that vigorous mind
Of power to charm, reprove, and guide.
Hark ! clearer still thy voice I hear !
Again reproof, in accents mild,
Seems whispering in my conscious ear,
And pains, yet soothes, thy kneeling child !
Then, while my eyes I weeping raise,
Again thy shadowy form appears ;
I see the smile of other days,
The frown that melted soon in tears !
Again I m exiled from thy sight,
Alone my rebel will to mourn ;
Again I feel the dear delight
When told I may to thee return !
But oh ! too soon the vision fled,
With all of grief and joy it brought ;
And as I slowly left the dead,
And gayer scenes, still musing sought,
Oh ! how I mourn d my heedless youth
Thy watchful care repaid so ill,
Yet joy d to think some words of truth
Sunk in my soul, and teach me still ;
Like lamps along life s fearful way
To me, at times, those truths have shone,
And oft, when snares around me lay,
That light has made the danger known.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 11
Then, how thy grateful child has blest
Each wise reproof thy accents bore !
And now she longs, in worlds of rest,
To dwell with thee for evermore !
Mrs. Opie evidently designed, at one time, to write
a record of the most interesting events of her life;
she commenced the task, but abruptly broke off when
she reached the age of early youth. This interesting
fragment was clearly written at a late period of her
life, it commences thus :
" Ce rfest que le premier pas qui coute" says the proverb,
and when I have once begun to put down my recollections of
days that are gone, with a view to their meeting other eyes
besides my own, the difficulty of the task will, I trust,
gradually disappear.
But I should be afraid that my garrulities, as I may call
them, would not be so interesting to others as I have thought
they might be, had I not observed such a hunger and thirst
in the world in general for anecdotes, whether biographical
or otherwise, and had I not experienced, and seen others
evince, such interest and amusement while reading of persons
and things; and I am thus encouraged to record my
recollections of those distinguished persons with whom I
have had the privilege of associating, from my youth upwards,
to the present day. Therefore, without further delay or
apology, I mean to relate a few " passages" in my very early
days, in order to make my readers acquainted with the
preparation for my future life and occupations, which these
days so evidently afforded.
One of my earliest recollections is of gazing on the bright
blue sky as I lay in my little bed, before my hour of rising
came, and listening with delighted attention to the ringing of
a peal of bells. I had heard that heaven was beyond those
blue skies, and I had been taught that there was the home of
12 MEMORIALS OF THE
the good, and I fancied that those sweet bells were ringing
in heaven. What a happy error ! Neither illusion nor
reality, at any subsequent period of my life, ever gave me
such a sensation of pure, heartfelt delight, as I experienced
when morning after morning I looked on that blue sky, and
listened to those bells, and fancied that I heard the music of
the home of the blest, pealing from the dwelling of the most
high. Well do I remember the excessive mortification I felt
when I was told the truth, and had the nature of bells
explained to me ; and, though I have since had to awake often
from illusions that were dear to my heart, I am sure that I
never woke from one with more pain than I experienced
when forced to forego this sweet illusion of my imaginative
childhood.
I believe I was naturally a fearful child, perhaps more so
than other children ; but I was not allowed to remain so.
Well do I remember the fears, which I used to indulge and
prove by tears and screams, whenever I saw the objects that
called forth my alarm. The first was terror of black beetles,
the second of frogs, the third of skeletons, the fourth of a
black man, and the fifth of madmen.
My mother, who was as firm from principle, as she was
gentle in disposition, in order to cure me of my first fear,
made me take a beetle in my hand, and so convince myself it
would not hurt me. As her word was law, I obeyed her,
though with a shrinking frame ; but the point was carried,
and when, as frequently happened, I was told to take up a
beetle and put it out of the way of being trodden upon, I
learnt to forget even my former fear.
She pursued the same course in order to cure me of
screaming at sight of a frog ; I was forced to hold one in my
hand, and thence I became, perhaps, proud of my courage to
handle what my playfellows dared not touch.
The skeleton of which I was afraid was that of a girl,
black, probably, from the preparation it had undergone ; be
that as it may, I was induced to take it on my lap and
examine it, and at last, calling it my black doll, I used to
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 13
exhibit it to my wondering and alarmed companions. Here
was vanity again perhaps.
The African of whom I was so terribly afraid was the
footman of a rich merchant from Rotterdam, who lived
opposite our house ; and, as he was fond of children, Aboar
(as he was called) used to come up to speak to little missey
as I stood at the door in my nurse s arms, a civility which I
received with screams, and tears, and kicks. But as soon as
my parents heard of this ill behaviour, they resolved to put
a stop to it, and missey was forced to shake hands with the
black the next time he approached her, and thenceforward
we were very good friends. Nor did they fail to make me
acquainted with negro history ; as soon as I was able to
understand, I was shewn on the map where their native
country was situated; I was told the sad tale of negro
wrongs and negro slavery; and I believe that my early
and ever-increasing zeal in the cause of emancipation was
founded and fostered by the kindly emotions which I was
encouraged to feel for my friend Aboar and all his race.
The fifth terror was excited by two poor women who lived
near us, and were both deranged though in different degree.
The one was called Cousin Betty, a common name for female
lunatics ; the other, who had been dismissed from bedlam as
incurable, called herself " Old Happiness," and went by that
name. These poor women lived near us, and passed by our
door every day ; consequently I often saw them when I went
out with my nurse, and whether it was that I had been told
by her, when naughty, that the mad woman should get me, I
know not ; but certain it is, that these poor visited creatures
were to me objects of such terror, that when I saw them
coming (followed usually by hooting boys) I used to run
away to hide myself. But as soon as my mother was aware
of this terror she resolved to conquer it, and I was led by
her to the door the next time one of these women was in
sight; nor was I allowed to stir till I had heard her kindly
converse with the poor afflicted one, and then I was
commissioned to put a piece of money into her hand. I had
14 MEMORIALS OF THE
to undergo the same process with the other woman ; but she
tried my nerves more than the preceding one, for she insisted
on shaking hands with me, a contact not very pleasing to
me: however, the fear was in a measure conquered, and a
feeling of deep interest, not unmixed with awe, was excited
in my mind, not only towards these women, but towards
insane persons in general ; a feeling that has never left me,
and which, in very early life, I gratified in the following
manner :
When able to walk in the street with my beloved parents,
they sometimes passed the city asylum for lunatics, called
the bedlam, and we used to stop before the iron gates,
and see the inmates very often at the windows, who would
occasionally ask us to throw halfpence over the wall to buy
snuff. Not long after I had discovered the existence of this
interesting receptacle, I found my way to it alone, and took
care to shew a penny in my fingers, that I might be asked for
it, and told where to throw it. A customer soon appeared at
one of the windows, in the person of a man named Goodings,
and he begged me to throw it over the door of the wall of
the ground in which they walked, and he would come to
catch it. Eagerly did I run to that door, but never can I
forget the terror and the trembling which seized my whole
frame, when, as I stood listening for my mad friend at the
door,. I heard the clanking of his chain ! nay, such was my
alarm, that, though a strong door was between us, I felt
inclined to run away ; but better feelings got the mastery,
and I threw the money over the door, scarcely staying to
hear him say he had found the penny, and that he blessed the
giver. I fully believe that I felt myself raised in the scale of
existence by this action, and some of my happiest moments
were those when I visited the gates of bedlam ; and so often
did I go, that I became well known to its inmates, and I
have heard them say, " Oil ! there is the little girl from
St. George s" (the parish in which I then lived.) At this
time my mother used to send me to shops to purchase trifling
articles, and chiefly at a shop at some distance from the
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 15
bedlam, which was as far again from my home. But, when
my mother used to ask me where I had been, that I had been
gone so long, the reply was, " I only went round by bedlam,
mamma."
But I did not confine my gifts to pence. Much of my
weekly allowance was spent in buying pinks and other flowers
for my friend Goodings, who happened to admire a nosegay
which he saw me w^ear ; and as my parents were not inclined
to rebuke me for spending my money on others, rather than
on myself, I was allowed for some time to indulge in this way
the interests which early circumstances, those circumstances
which always give the bias to the character through life, had
led me to feel in beings whom it had pleased the Almighty
to deprive of their reason. At this period, and when my
attachment to this species of human woe was at its height, a
friend of ours hired a house which looked into the ground
named before, and my father asked the gentleman to allow
me to stand at one of the windows, and see the lunatics walk.
Leave was granted and I hastened to my post, and as the
window was open I could talk with Goodings and the others ;
but my feelings were soon more forcibly interested by an
unseen lunatic, who had, they told me, been crossed in love,
and who, in the cell opposite my window, sang song after
song in a voice which I thought very charming.
But I do not remember to have been allowed the indulgence
of standing at this window more than twice. I believe my
parents thought the excitement was an unsafe one, as I was
constantly talking of what I had said to the mad folks, and
they to me ; and it was so evident that I was proud of their
acquaintance, and of my own attachment to them, that I was
admonished not to go so often to the gates of the bedlam;
and dancing and French school soon gave another turn to my
thoughts, and excited in me other views and feelings. Still,
the sight of a lunatic gave me a fearful pleasure, which
nothing else excited ; and when, as youth advanced, I knew
that loss of reason accompanied distressed circumstances, I
know that I was doubly eager to administer to the pecuniary
16 MEMORIALS OP THE
wants of those who were awaiting their appointed time in
madness as well as poverty. Yet, notwithstanding, I could not
divest myself entirely of fear of these objects of my pity ;
and it was with a beating heart that, after some hesitation,
I consented to accompany two gentlemen, dear friends of
mine, on a visit to the interior of the bedlam. One of my
companions was a man of warm feelings and lively fancy, and
he had pictured to himself the unfortunate beings, whom we
were going to visit, as victims of their sensibility, and as
likely to express by their countenances and words the fatal
sorrows of their hearts ; and I was young enough to share in
his anticipations, having, as yet, considered madness not as
occasioned by some physical derangement, but as the result, in
most cases, of moral causes. But our romance was sadly
disappointed, for we beheld no "eye in a fine phrensy rolling,"
no interesting expression of sentimental woe, sufficient to raise
its victims above the lowly walk of life in which they had
always moved ; and I, though I knew that the servant of a
friend of mine was in the bedlam who had been "crazed by
hopeless love," yet could not find out, amongst the many
figures that glided by me, or bent over the winter fire, a single
woman who looked like the victim of the tender passion.
The only woman, who had aught interesting about her, was
a poor girl, just arrived, whose hair was not yet cut off, and
who, seated on the bed in her new cell, had torn off her cap,
and had let the dark tresses fall over her shoulders in
picturesque confusion ! This pleased me ; and I was still
more convinced I had found what I sought, when, on being
told to lie down and sleep, she put her hand to her evidently
aching head, as she exclaimed, in a mournful voice, " Sleep !
oh, I cannot sleep ! " The wish to question this poor sufferer
being repressed by respectful pity, we hastened away to
other cells, in which were patients confined in their beds ;
with one of these women I conversed a little while, and then
continued our mournful visits. " But where (said I to the
keeper) is the servant of a friend of mine (naming the patient)
who is here because she was deserted by her lover?" "You
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 17
have just left her," said the man. " Indeed," replied I, and
hastened eagerly back to the cell I had quitted. I imme
diately began to talk to her of her mistress and the children,
and called her by her name, but she would not reply. I then
asked her if she would like money to buy snuff ? " Thank
you," she replied. " Then give me your hand." " No, you
must lay the money on my pillow." Accordingly I drew
near, when, just as I reached her, she uttered a screaming
laugh, so loud, so horrible, so unearthly, that I dropped the
pence, and rushing from the cell, never stopped till I found
myself with my friends, who had themselves been startled by
the noise, and were coming in search of me. I was now
eager to leave the place ; but I had seen, and lingered behind
still, to gaze upon a man whom I had observed from the open
door at which I stood, pacing up and down the wintry walk,
but who at length saw me earnestly beholding him! He
started, fixed his eyes on me with a look full of mournful
expression, and never removed them till I, reluctantly I own,
had followed my companions. What a world of woe was,
as I fancied, in that look ! Perhaps I resembled some one
dear to him! Perhaps but it were idle to give all the
perhapses of romantic sixteen resolved to find in bedlam what
she thought ought to be there of the sentimental, if it were
not. However, that poor man and his expression never left
my memory ; and I thought of him when, at a later period,
I attempted to paint the feelings I imputed to him in the
" Father and Daughter."
On the whole, we came away disappointed, from having
formed false ideas of the nature of the infliction which we had
gone to contemplate. I have since then seen madness in
many different asylums, but I was never disappointed again.
Faithful to the views with which I began this little sketch
of my childhood and my early youth, I will here relate a
circumstance which was romantic enough to add fresh fuel to
whatever I had already of romance in my composition ; and
therefore is another proof that, from the earliest circumstances
with which human beings are surrounded, the character takes
18 MEMORIALS OF THE
its colouring through life. Phrenologists watch certain
bumps on the head, indicative, they say, of certain propensities,
and assert that parents have a power to counteract, by culti
vation, the bad propensities, and to increase the good. This
may be a surer way of going to work ; but, as yet, the truth
of their theory is not generally acknowledged. In the
meanwhile, I would impress on others what I am fully sen
sible of myself; namely, that the attention of parents and
instructors should be incessantly directed to watching over
the very earliest dispositions and tastes of their children or
pupils, because, as far as depends on mere human teaching,
whatever they are in disposition and pursuit in the earliest
dawn of existence, they will probably be in its meridian and
its decline.
When I was scarcely yet in my teens, a highly respected
friend of mine, a member of the Society of Friends, informed
me that she had a curious story to relate to me and her
niece, my favourite friend and companion ; she told us that
her husband had received a letter from a friend at Lynn,
recommending to his kindness a young man, named William
Henry Renny, who was a sailor, just come on shore from a
distant part, and wanted some assistance on his way (I think)
to London. My friend, who was ever ready to lend his aid
when needed, and was sure his correspondent would not have
required it for one unworthy, received the young man kindly,
and ordered him refreshments in the servants hall ; and, as
I believe, prepared for him a bed in his own house. But
before the evening came, my friend had observed something
in the young man s manner which he did not like ; he was
too familiar towards the servants, and certainly did not seem
a proper inmate for the family of a Friend. At length, in
consequence of hints given him by some one in the family,
he called the stranger into his study, and expressed his
vexation at learning that his conduct had not been quite
correct. The young man listened respectfully to the deserved
rebuke, but with great agitation and considerable excite
ment, occasioned perhaps, as my candid friend thought,
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 19
by better meals than he had been used to, and which was
therefore a sort of excuse for his behaviour; but little
was my friend prepared for the disclosure that awaited him.
Falling on his knees, the young man, with clasped band?,
conjured his hearer to forgive him the imposition he had
practised. " Oh, sir," cried he, " I am an impostor, my name
is not William Henry K. but Anna Maria Real, I am not a
man, but a woman !" Such a confession would have astounded
any one ; judge then how it must have affected the correct
man whom she addressed ! who certainly did not let the
woman remain in her abject position, but desired immediately
to hear a true account of who and what she was. She said,
that her lover, when very young, had left her to go to sea,
and that she resolved to follow him to Russia, whither he
was bound ; that she did follow him, disguised as a sailor,
and had worked out her passage undetected. She found
her lover dead, but she liked a sailor s life so well, that she
had continued in the service up to that time, when (for some
reason which I have forgotten) she left the ship, and came
ashore at Lynn, not meaning to return to it, but to resume
the garb of her sex. On this latter condition, my friend and
his wife were willing to assist her, and endeavour to effect a
reformation in her. The first step was to procure her a
lodging that evening, and to prevent her being seen,
as much as they could, before she had put on woman s
clothes. Accordingly, she was sent to lodgings, and in
quiries into the truth of her story were instituted at Lynn
and elsewhere.
But what an interesting tale was this for me, a Miss
just entered into her teens ! Of a female soldier s adventures
I had some years previously heard, and once had seen
Hannah Snelling, a native of Norfolk, who had followed her
lover to the wars. Here was a female sailor added to my
experience. Every opportunity of hearing any subsequent
detail was eagerly seized. What a romantic incident ! The
romance of real life too ! How I wanted to see the heroine ;
and I was rather mortified that my sober-minded friend
c 2
20 MEMORIALS OF THE
would not describe her features to me. Might I (I asked)
be at last allowed to see her? and as my parents gave leave,
I, accompanied by a young friend, called at the adventurer s
lodgings, who was at home ! Yes, she was at home, and
to our great consternation we found her in men s clothes
still, and working at a trade which she had acquired on board
ship, the trade of a tailor ! Nor did she leave off though we
were her guests, but went on stitching and pulling with most
ugly diligence, though ever and anon casting her large, dark,
and really beautiful, though fierce eyes, over our disturbed and
wondering countenances, silently awaiting to hear why we
came. We found it difficult to give a reason, as her appear
ance and employment so totally extinguished any thing like
sentiment in our young hearts, upon this occasion. However,
we broke the ice at last, and she told us something of her
story ; which, however touching in the beginning, as that of a
disguise and an enterprize prompted by youthful love, became
utterly offensive when persisted in after the original motives
for it had ceased. Her manner too was not pleasant : I wore a
gold watch in my girdle, with a smart chain and seals, and
the coveting eye with which she gazed, and at length
clapped her hand upon them, begging to see them near,
gave me a feeling of distaste ; and, as I watched her almost
terrible eyes, I fancied that they indicated a deranged mind ;
therefore, hastening to give her the money which I had
brought for her, I took my leave, with my friend, resolving
not to visit her again. Out of respect to our friends, she
went to the Friends meeting with them, and they were
pleased to see her there in her woman s attire ; but when she
walked away, with the long strides and bold seeming of a
man, it was anything rather than satisfactory, to observe her.
I once saw her walk, and though this romance of real life
occupied the minds of my young friend and myself, and was
afterwards discussed by us, still the actress in it was be
coming, justly, an object with whom we should have loathed
any intercourse.
I do not recollect how long she remained under the care
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 1
of my excellent friends, but I think much of her story was
authenticated by the answers to the inquiries made. All
that I know with certainty is, that a collection of wild
beasts came to town, the showman of which turned out to be
Maria Real s husband, and with him she left Norwich !
* # # * * *
Thus abruptly does Mrs. Opie s narrative of her
early days break off. Had she turned the next leaf
in that history it must have been to record her first
sorrow.
22 MEMORIALS OF THE
CHAPTER II.
FIRST SORROW ; THE ASSIZES , SIR HENRY GOULD ; THE USURY CAUSE ;
"CHRISTIAN;" MR. BRUCKNER; GIRLISH DAYS; HER FRIENDSHIP
WITH MRS. TAYLOR; MRS. T. S MEMOIR OF HER.
IN one of his letters to a friend, Southey remarks :
" Few autobiographies proceed much beyond the stage of
boyhood. So far all our recollections of childhood and
adolescence, though they call up tender thoughts, excite none
of the deeper feeling with which we look back upon the time
of life when wounds heal slowly, and losses are irreparable.
This is, no doubt, the reason why so many persons who have
begun to write their own lives have stopped short when they
got through the chapter of their youth."
The poet elsewhere observes, that the wounded
spirit, which shrinks from such a record of past griefs,
finds solace in breathing out its regret in the tender
strains of verse. And so it was in the present
instance. The loss of her mother was deplored in
pathetic numbers ; and no other record of this event
is given.
Another passage in the history of her earlier
days is found in her note book, a few pages after
the former, shewing how early she manifested a
predilection, in the gratification of which she found so
much enjoyment in after life. It should be mentioned
before we proceed further, that the house in which
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 23
Mrs. Opie was born was situated in Calvert Street,
immediately opposite a handsome mansion, once the
residence of an individual of note in his day, and after
whom the street was named. This house Dr. Alderson
afterwards inhabited for some years ; but in the
interim, he removed from the one in which his daughter
was born, to another, opposite St. George s church,
and in which they were living at the time referred to
in the following pages :
To a girl fond of excitement it will easily be believed that
the time of Assizes was one of great interest. As soon as I
was old enough to enjoy a procession, I was taken to see the
judges come in; and, as youthful pages in pretty dresses ran,
at that time of day, by the side of the high sheriff s carriage
in which the judges sat, w 7 hile the coaches drove slowly, and
with a solemnity becoming the high and awful office of those
whom they contained, it was a sight which I, the older I
grew, delighted more and more to witness : with reverence
ever did I behold the judges wigs, the scarlet robes they wore,
and even the white wand of the sheriff had an imposing
effect on me.
As years advanced, I began to wish to enter the assize
court ; and as soon as I found that ladies were allowed to
attend trials, or causes, I was not satisfied till 1 had obtained
leave to enjoy this indulgence. Accordingly some one kindly
undertook to go with me, and I set off for court : it was to
the nisi prius court that I bent my way, for I could not bear
the thoughts of hearing prisoners tried, as the punishment of
death was then in all its force ; but I was glad to find myself
hearing counsel plead and judges speak where I had no reason
to apprehend any fearful consequences to the defendants.
By some lucky chance I also soon found myself on the bench,
by the side of the judge. Although I could not divest
myself of a degree of awful respect when I had reached such
a vicinity, it was so advantageous a position for hearing and
MEMORIALS OF THE
seeing, that I was soon reconciled to it, especially as the good
old man, who sat then as judge, seemed to regard my fixed
attention to what was going forward with some complacency.
Sir Henry Gould was the judge then presiding, and he was
already on the verge of eighty ; but the fire of his fine eye
was not quenched by age, nor had his intellect as yet bowed
before it ; on the contrary, he is said while in Norwich to
have delivered a charge to the jury, after a trial that had
lasted far into the night, in a manner that would have done
credit to the youngest judge on the bench.
This handsome and venerable old man, surprised probably
at seeing so young a listener by his side, was so kind at last
as to enter into conversation with me. Never, I think, had
my vanity been so gratified, and when, on my being forced to
leave the court, by the arrival of my dinner hour, he said he
hoped I was sufficiently pleased to come again, I went home
much raised in my own estimation, and fully resolved to go
into court again next day. As I was obliged to go alone, I
took care to wear the same dress as I wore the preceding day,
in hopes that if the judge saw me he would cause way to be
made for me. But being obliged to go in at a door where the
crowd was very great, I had little hopes of being seen, though
the door fronted the judge ; at last I was pushed forward by
the crowd, and gradually got nearer to the table. While thus
struggling with obstacles, a man, not quite in the grade of a
gentleman, pushed me back rather rudely, and said, " there
miss, go home you had better go away, what business have
you here ? this is no place for you ; be advised there go, I
tell you ! " But miss was obstinate and stood her ground,
turning as she did so towards the judge, who now perceived
and recognized her, and instantly ordered one of the servants
of the court to make way for that young lady ; accordingly
way was made, and at his desire I took my place again by the
judge s side. It was not in nature, at least not in my weak
nature, to resist casting a triumphant glance on my imperti
nent reprover, and I had the satisfaction of seeing that he
looked rather foolish. I do not remember that on either of
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 25
these days I heard any very interesting causes tried, but I had
acquaintances amongst the barristers, and I liked to hear them
plead, and I also liked to hear the judge sum up : in short,
all was new, exciting, and interesting. But I disliked to hear
the witnesses sworn. I was shocked at the very irreverent
manner in which the oath was administered and repeated ;
and evidently the Great Name was spoken with as much levity
as if it had been merely that of a brother mortal, not the
name of the great King of kings. This was the drawback to
my pleasure, but not a sufficient one to keep me from my now
accustomed post, and a third time, but early enough to have
my choice of places, I repaired to court, and seated myself
near the extremity of the bench, hoping to be called to my
accustomed seat when my venerable friend arrived. It was
expected that the court would be that day crowded to excess,
for the cause coming on was one of the deepest interest.
One of our richest and oldest aldermen was going to be
proceeded against for usury, and the principal witness against
him was a gentleman who owed him considerable obligation.
The prosecutor was unknown to me ; the witness named
above I knew sufficiently to bow to him as he passed our house,
which he did every day ; and he was reckoned a worthy and
honourable man. These circumstances gave me an eager
desire to be a witness of the proceedings, and I was gratified
at being able to answer some questions which the judge asked
me when, as before, he had beckoned me to sit by him.
The cause at length began, and it was so interesting that
I listened with almost breathless attention, feeling, for the
first time, what deep and agitating interest a court of justice
can sometimes excite, and what a fearful picture it can hold
up to the young of human depravity ; for, as this cause went
on, the witness for the accused, and the witness for the
accuser, both swore in direct opposition to each other ! One
of them therefore was undoubtedly perjured ! and I had
witnessed the commission of this awful crime !
Never shall I forget that moment ; as it seemed very soon
to be the general conclusion, that my acquaintance was the
26 MEMORIALS OF THE
person perjured. I felt a pain wholly unknown before, and
though I rejoiced that my friend, the accused, was declared
wholly innocent of the charge brought against him, I was
indeed sorry that I should never be able to salute my old
acquaintance with sucl cordiality in future, when he passed
my window, as this stain rested on his reputation ; but that
window he was never to pass again !
The next morning before I was up, (for beginning influenza
confined me to my bed,) the servant ran into the room to
inform me that poor had been found dead in his bed,
with strong suspicions of suicide by poison !
Instantly I dressed myself, forgetting my illness, and went in
search of more information. Well do I remember the ghastly
expression of the wretched man s countenance as he left the
court. I saw his bright grey eye lifted up in a sort of agony
to heaven, with, as I supposed, the conviction that he was
retiring in disgrace, and I had been told what his lips uttered,
while his eyes so spoke. "What! are you going," said a
friend to him. " Yes ; why not ? What should I stay for
now ? " and his tone and manner bore such strong evidence
of a desponding mind, that these words were repeated as
confirming the belief that he had destroyed himself.
I never can forget with what painful feelings I went back
to my chamber, the sensation of illness forgotten, by the
sufferings of my mind !
What would I not have given to hear that the poor man
who had thus rushed unbidden into the presence of his
heavenly judge, urged by the convictions of having been
condemned in the presence of an earthly one, was innocent
of this second crime ! It had been terrible to believe him
guilty of the first.
My mind was so painfully full of this subject, that it was
always uppermost with me ; and, to increase my suffering, the
unhappy man s grave was dug immediately opposite our
windows ; and although I drew down the blinds all day long,
I heard the murmuring voices of the people talking over the
event, some saying he was an injured man, and venting curses
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 27
on the heads of those who had brought him to that pass.
The verdict having been that "he was found dead in his
bed," the interment took place in the usual manner ; and it
did so early in the morning. I took care to avoid the front of
the house till all was over ; and when the hour in the follow
ing morning arrived, at which I used to go to the window,
and receive the bow and smile of our neighbour, I
remembered with bitter regret that I should see him no
more, as he lay beneath the wall before me.
Even while I am writing, the whole scene in the court, and
the frightful results, live before me with all the vividness of
early impressions ; and I can scarcely assert, that, at any
future stage of life, I ever experienced emotions more keen
or more enduring.
Judge Gould came to Norwich again the next year, and as
I heard he had inquired for me, I was not long in going to
court. One of his first questions was concerning the result
of the Usury cause, which he had found so interesting, and
he heard with much feeling what I had to impart. I thought
my kind friend seemed full a year older ; and when I took
leave of him I did not expect to see him again. Perhaps
the invitation which he gave me, was a proof of a decay of
faculties ; for he. said that if ever I came to London, he lived
in such a square, (I forget the place,) and should be pleased
to introduce me to his daughter Lady Cavan. I did go to
London before he died, but I had not courage enough to call
on Sir Henry Gould ; I felt it was likely that he had forgotten
me, and that he was unlikely to exclaim, like my friends at
the bedlam, " Oh ! here s the young girl from St. George s! *
It may be remembered that in the short memorial
of her earlier days, given in the preceding chapter,
Mrs. Opie says that her attention was drawn away
from an interest that was becoming too absorbing in
the unhappy inmates of the bedlam, by new sources
of occupation and interest. " Dancing and French
28 MEMORIALS OF THE
school," she says, " soon gave another turn to my
thoughts, and excited in me other views and feelings."
The master who first instructed her to thread the gay
mazes of the dance was one, " Christian," a man well
skilled in his art, and who attained such celebrity in
it, that the room in which he taught is still called
after him, "Christian s room." Here the young
Amelia received her first lessons in dancing ; and in
after years she was wont to refer to those days, and
would close her recollections of the worthy Christian,
by telling how on one occasion, when she and her
husband were in Norwich, they accompanied a friend
to see the Dutch Church. " The two gentlemen
were engaged in looking around and making their
observations ; and I, finding myself somewhat cold,
began to hop and dance upon the spot where I stood.
Suddenly, my eyes chanced to fall upon the pavement
below, and I started at beholding the well-known
name of Christian, graved upon the slab ; I stopped
in dismay, shocked to find that I had actually been
dancing upon the grave of my old master he who
first taught me to dance ! "
The gentleman who gave her instruction in the
French language was a remarkable man, and one for
whom she entertained an affectionate respect which
continued during the remainder of his life. As he is
frequently referred to in her letters and elsewhere, it
may not be irrelevant here to give some particulars
respecting him, which are principally gathered from
an article in " the Monthly Magazine," written by
the late Mr. Win. Taylor. It appears that in 1752,
Mr. Colombine, one of a French refugee family, then
residing in Norwich, was entrusted by the members
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 29
of the Walloon church, in that city, on occasion of
his going over to Holland, to seek out for them a
suitable pastor. In the execution of this commission,
he applied to Mr. Bruckner, then holding a pastorship
at Leyclen. This gentleman, who had been educated
for the theological profession, was of eminent literary
acquirements ; he read the Hebrew and the Greek,
composed correctly, and was able to preach in four
languages: Latin. Dutch, French, and English. He
listened favourably to the invitation of the Norwich
church; and in 1753 settled amongst them, and
continued to officiate during 51 years with increasing
satisfaction : about the year 1766, Mr. B. also under
took the charge of the Dutch church, of which the
duties had become almost nominal, in consequence of
the diminished numbers of Dutch families, and the
gradual disuse of that language.
The French was Mr. Bruckner s favourite tongue ;
and in it he gave lessons, both public and private, to
the young people of his adopted city, for many years :
he also cultivated music, and delighted in practising
upon the organ. He was, besides, an author, and
published a work entitled " Theorie du Systeme
Animal," and, under an assumed name, a pamphlet
entitled " Criticisms on the Diversions of Purley."
His death took place in the month of May, 1804 ;
at his house in St. Benedict s street. Mr. Opie
painted an admirable likeness of him, which appeared
in the London Exhibition of 1800. This picture was
in the possession of Mrs. Opie at the time of her
death, and is the subject of one of her " Lays."
There was a very singular expression in the eyes, and
on one occasion a visitor who was calling upon her,
30 MEMORIALS OF THE
gazing on the picture, remarked, that he was painfully
affected by this look, as he remembered to have seen
the same strange appearance in the countenance of a
person who committed suicide. This remark forcibly
struck Mrs. Opie, and no wonder, as it was the fact
that her poor master died by his own hands ! A
gradual failure of spirits overtook him in his old age ;
sleep forsook his eyelids, and the fatal stroke ter
minated his existence, to the regret of all who had
known him ; for he was much beloved for his kindli
ness and affability, and his society was courted to the
last, as his conversation shewed good sense, humour,
and information. A small piece of paper, written in
her delicate and minute characters, and found among
her letters, proves that his friend and pupil continued to
think of him after the lapse of more than half a century.
Lines, addressed to me by my dear friend and French
master, John Bruckner, a Flemish Clergyman, on my re
questing him to let my husband paint a portrait of him
for me.
Pourquoi me dcmander, aimable Amelie
De ce front tout ride, Ic lugubre portrait ?
Pour etre contemple jamais il ne fut fait,
Assez il a deplu Permettez qu on 1 oublie !
John Bruckner, 1 800.
Translation in prose :
Why do you ask of me, amiable Amelia, the gloomy portrait of
this wrinkled brow ? It was never meant to be contemplated. It
has enough displeased Let it now be forgotten. A. 0. 1852.
To this amiable man and accomplished scholar
Mrs. Opie was indebted, not only for instruction in
French, but for much general information, which he
was well qualified to impart.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 31
The premature death of Mrs. Alderson occasioned
(as we have seen) the introduction of her daughter
into society at a very early age. Her father delighted
to make her his constant companion, and introduced
her to the company of the friends with whom he
visited, and whom he welcomed to his house. Hence,
at a time when girls are usually confined to the
school room, she was presiding as mistress of his
household, and mingling in the very gay society of
the Norwich circles of that day. The period of
which we write was shortly before the breaking
out of the French revolution, and was one of great
commercial prosperity, in which the merchant-manu
facturers of the old town shared, in an extraordinary
degree. This state of things lasted until the troubles
consequent upon that event disturbed the commercial
relations of the continent ; when the trade declined,
and a season of unparelleled depression ensued. But
at the time of which we speak, it was a thriving
and prosperous city, and abounded in gaiety and
amusements of various sorts.
A young girl placed in such circumstances must
have greatly needed the counsel and friendship of a
wise female friend ; and such an one Miss Alderson
happily found in Mrs. John Taylor, a lady dis
tinguished for her extensive knowledge and many
excellencies. She was living at that time in Norwich,
not far from Mr. Alderson s, and an intimacy was
early formed between the two ladies, which appears
to have lasted uninterruptedly through life. After
Mrs. Opie s marriage, she continued to correspond
with this friend of her early days, and happily many
of her letters to Mrs. T. have been preserved.
32 MEMORIALS OF THE
Frequent mention is made of Mrs. Taylor in
Sir James Mackintosh s life, and she is spoken of
as one of the principal attractions amid the circle of
friends whose society he sought, when carried by his
professional duties to Norwich. Mr. Montague, his
companion on some of these occasions, says:
" N. was always a haven of rest to us, from the literary
society with which that city abounded. Dr. Sayers we used
to visit, and the high-minded and intelligent Wm. Taylor ;
but our chief delight was in the society of Mrs. John Taylor,
a most intelligent and excellent woman, mild and unassuming,
quiet and meek, sitting amidst her large family, occupied with
her needle and domestic occupations, but always assisting, by
her great knowledge, the advancement of kind and dignified
sentiment and conduct.
Manly wisdom and feminine gentleness were in her united
with such attractive manners, that she was universally loved
and respected. In high thoughts and gentle deeds she
greatly resembled the admirable Lucy Hutchinson, and in
troubled times would have been equally distinguished for
firmness in what she thought right. In her society we
passed every moment we could rescue from the court." *
How dear must such a friend have been to one
whom she so tenderly loved ! When some years later
a portrait of Mrs. Opie was brought out in " The
Cabinet," a periodical of the day, Mrs. Taylor
drew up a short notice of her friend, to accom
pany this likeness. This paper was written about
the time of Mr. Opie s death, but it principally
refers to the early part of Mrs. Opie s life. After
speaking of the circumstances of her birth, of the
early death of her mother, and of the proofs she
* See Life of Sir James Mackintosh.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 33
gave, even in childhood, of poetical genius and taste,
the writer continues :
" Mrs. Opie s musical talents were early cultivated. Her
first master was Mr. Michael Sharp, of Norwich, who
possessed a degree of love for his profession which com
paratively few, employed in the drudgery of teaching, evince.
Mrs. O. never arrived at superiority as a player, but she
may be said to have been unrivalled in that kind of singing
in which she more particularly delighted. Those only who
have heard her can conceive the effect she produced in the
performance of her own ballads ; of these, The poor
Hindoo was one of her chief favourites, and the expression
of plaintive misery and affectionate supplication which she
threw into it, we may safely say has very seldom been
equalled. She may fairly be said to have created a style of
singing of her own, which, though polished and improved by
art and cultivation, was founded in that power, which she
appears so pre-eminently to possess, of awakening the tender
sympathies and pathetic feelings of the mind."
After enumerating some further accomplishments
possessed by her friend, Mrs. Taylor closes her tribute
of affectionate regard, by speaking of the excellencies
of a heart and mind " distinguished by frankness,
probity, and the most diffusive kindness;" and
appeals to the many who could bear witness from
experience, to those sympathies which " made the
happiness of her friends her own, and to the un
remitting ardour with which she laboured to remove
the miseries that came within her knowledge and
influence."
34 MEMORIALS OF THE
CHAPTER III.
NORFOLK AND NORWICH, AND THEIR INHABITANTS; YOUNG LOVE;
THE DRAMA ; SONG WRITING AND CROMER ; POLITICS ; TISIT TO
LONDON ; LETTERS FROM THENCE ; THE OLD BAILEY TRIALS.
MR. HOLCROFT, in his Autobiography, writes thus
of East Anglia :
"I have seen more of the county of Norfolk than of its
inhabitants; of which county I remark, that, to the best of
my recollection, it contains more churches, more flints, more
turkeys, more turnips, more wheat, more cultivation, more
commons, more cross roads, and from that token probably
more inhabitants, than any county I ever visited. It has
another distinguishing and paradoxical feature, if what I hear
be true ; it is said to be more illiterate than any other part
of England, and yet, I doubt, if any county of like extent
have produced an equal number of famous men."
The praises of Norwich were written thus, in old
monkish rhymes in days of yore ;
" Urbs speciosa situ, nitidis pulcherrima tectis,
Grata peregrinis, dcliciosa suis."
If common fame speak true, the Inhabitants of the
old City have been noted for three peculiarities the
resolute purpose and strongly marked character of her
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 35
men ; the fair looks of her women ; and the deep-
rooted attachment which is entertained for her by
those born and bred within her walls, The subject
of this memoir certainly shared largely in this love for
the city of her birth. During the eight and twenty
years of her life which preceded her marriage, with
the exception of occasional visits to London and else
where, she remained in her native town and in her
father s house; and when, at the expiration of nine
years, she became a widow, she returned to live under
her father s roof again; nor at his death did she mani
fest a desire to quit the place endeared to her by the
recollections of so many long and happy years.
At the period to which we have arrived in her his
tory, she possessed the advantages of a pleasing
personal appearance. Her friend, Mrs. Taylor,
delicately alludes to the graces of " person, mind, and
manner," so happily united in her ; and Mr. Opie s
portraits fully bear testimony to the truth of
these friendly representations. Her countenance was
animated, bright, and beaming ; her eyes soft and
expressive, yet full of ardour ; her hair was abundant
and beautiful, of auburn hue, and waving in long
tresses; her figure was well formed; her carriage
fine; her hands, arms, and feet, well shaped;
and all around and about her was the spirit of youth,
and joy, and love. What wonder if she early loved,
and was beloved ! She used to own that she had
been guilty of the " girlish imprudence" of love at
sixteen. From the following lines in one of her
poems, it should seem that this fancy of her youth
was but a day-dream destined to pass away like the
rest!
D 3
36 MEMORIALS OF THE
I ve gazed on the handsome, have talked with the wise,
With the witty have laugh d, untouched by love s power,
And tho long assailed by young Cory don s eyes,
They charmed for a day, and were thought of no more !
But once, I confess, (t was at tender sixteen,)
Love s agents were busy indeed round my heart,
And nought but good fortune s assistance I ween,
Could ere from my bosom have warded the dart.
Numerous admirers, indeed, seem to have paid her
homage, and courted her favour in those days. Some
perhaps enjoyed a short season of hope, and there
were two or three, whose rapturous effusions were
committed to some secret receptacle, there to await a
season of leisure when their claims might be considered.
But alas ! none such came ; they lay forgotten ;
and only came to light when she, whose bright young
charms they told of, had closed a long life.
High spirits, uninterrupted health, a lively fancy,
and poetic talent, were hers; and she fully enjoyed
and exercised these natural advantages.
One of her earliest tastes was a love of the
drama, and Mr. Capel Lofft, writing to her in 1808,
observes, " Your uncle, the barrister, was saying yes
terday evening, how struck he was, almost in your
childhood, with your power of dramatic diction and
recitation, and that he had never thought it equalled
by any one." This taste she cultivated ; and, when not
more than eighteen years of age, wrote a tragedy,
entitled " Adelaide," which is still extant. It was
acted for the amusement of her friends ; she herself
performing the heroine s part, while Mr. Robert
Harvey played the role of " the old father."
It should seem from an expression in one of her
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 37
letters, that this was not a solitary effort in theatrical
composition, and that she even aspired to see some of
her plays performed in public. It was probably this
taste which early introduced her to an acquaintance
with the Kemble family ; as she says, in a very early
letter to her father, signing herself Euridice, "My
claim to this name was revived in my mind the other
day, by Mr. Kemble coming up to me, saying,
6 Euridice, the woods, Euridice, the floods, &c." She
ever entertained an ardent admiration for the illustrious
Mrs. Siddons ; an admiration mingled with a warm
sentiment of personal regard. This was manifested
in a touching and natural manner after the death of
that lady, when, as she was one day visiting the
Soanian museum, (in company with the friend who
now records the fact,) happening unexpectedly to see
a cast of Mrs. Siddons face, taken after death, and
unable to control her emotion, she burst into a
passionate flood of tears !
Mrs. Taylor was probably right in her judgment
when she said to Mrs. Opie, " You ought to rest your
fame upon song writing." Many of the most popular
songs she published after her marriage had been early
productions of her pen; and were, perhaps, not
excelled by any efforts of that kind in her later years.
Some of them first appeared separately in newspapers
and magazines, and a few in a periodical miscellany
called " The Cabinet."
The Lay to the memory of her mother was written
(as we have said) at Cromer, in the year 1791 ; and
is the first in an old manuscript book containing her
earlier poems, many of which she afterwards published.
They were produced in this and the following year,
38 MEMORIALS OF THE
and are inscribed "Verses written at Cromer." This
place seems to have been, throughout life, very dear to
her ; owing no doubt, in part, to the fact that she had
frequently spent the summer season there with her
mother in her childhood ; hence it became associated
in her mind with these earliest recollections.
There she indulged in fond memories and fancies,
spending the long summer days roving along the
shore, and weaving her thoughts into verse, grave or
gay. She deplores her fate when compelled to leave
These scenes belov d upon whose tranquil shores,
Thoughtless of ill, I breathed my earliest songs,
While childish sports and hopes a joyous throng
In soft enchantment bound the guiltless hours.
And concludes,
Here I would wander, from day s earliest dawn,
Till o er the western summit steals dark night ;
And from the rugged cliff or dewy lawn,
Reluctant fades the last pale gleam of light.
Visits among her numerous friends, and excursions
on business and pleasure, in which she not unfre-
quently accompanied her father, occasionally afforded
themes for her pen, and her wanderings may often be
tracked by the titles she gave to these effusions. " A
sonnet written in Cumberland," bears date 1790.
Another "in a bower in Wroxham Churchyard,"
August, 1792. A serio-comic poem written at
Windermere, in a letter to her father, gives an
account of the merry antics played by herself and
a gay party of young folks with whom she made
the trip, and one, which we give to the reader, was
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 39
" WRITTEN ON SEEING A BUST OF MINERVA AT FELBRIGG
HALL, THROWN INTO A CORNER AMONGST RUBBISH."
"Who should have thought in "Windham s breast
Ingratitude to find !
Who should have thought that he could prove
To his best friend unkind !
Yet sure I am, my eyes beheld
In Felbrigg hall this morn,
Unmeaning heads exalted high,
And Wisdom left forlorn !
#*****
From these tranquil scenes we must make a some
what abrupt transition, and carry the reader to the
busy world of London, where we find her in 1794, and
writing to her friend, Mrs. T., from thence. The
allusions to political events, contained in these letters,
render it necessary to say a few words respecting the
opinions entertained by Dr. Alderson, and the friends
with whom he associated on these subjects ; as his
daughter s views were naturally to a great degree
formed after those of her father and his companions.
During the later years of the last century, at the
time when this country was so vehemently excited by
the great changes then occurring in France, and
which were regarded by many as the commencement
of a new and happier era for the nations of Europe
generally; party strife ran to a fearful height, and
scarcely any, even of the weaker sex, remained
passive spectators of the struggle.
Dr. Alderson was among those who hailed the dawn
of the French revolution with pleasure ; and, though
he afterwards saw cause to moderate his expecta
tions as to the results of that movement, he seems
40 MEMORIALS OF THE
(in common with many sincere patriots) to have held
his allegiance true to the original revolutionary cause.
It is well known that at this time various societies
were organized, in different parts of the kingdom,
for the purpose of discussing the political questions
then agitating the public mind, and Norwich was
among the foremost in these associations. A local
society was instituted, in which were canvassed reforms
and changes, many of which, advocated by the most
influential statesmen of our day, have since been
safely yielded to the irresistible force of public
opinion. Three of the leading measures contended
for were the Abolition of Negro Slavery, the repeal
of the Corporation and Test Acts, and the reform of
the House of Commons.
The policy of the government was, however, (not
without reason,) hostile to associations such as these,
and severe measures were adopted to put them down,
and to bring their leaders under the fearful ban of
high treason.
During Miss Alderson s stay in London, in 1794,
she attended the famous trials of Home Tooke,
Holcroft, and others, for treason, at the Old Bailey ;
and in her letters home she gave her father a lively
account of the events which transpired. It is known
that Dr. Alderson, after reading these letters to his
confidential friends, thought it prudent to destroy
them. A few letters, to Mrs. Taylor, written previous
to her marriage, have been preserved ; but as that lady
was in the habit of reading those addressed to Dr
Alderson by his daughter, they contain no account of
the events which she described to him. The three
which follow were written in 1 794, during her visit
LirE OF AMELIA OPIE. 41
to some friends who lived near London, but her letters
being mostly without date, cannot always be arranged
with certainty. It is evident that a fellowship in
political opinions was the only bond which united her
to many with whom, at this time, she associated.
Her own good sense and firm rectitude of principle,
happily preserved her from the follies and errors into
which not a few around her were led, by their ex
travagant zeal for a liberty which speedily degenerated
into license. She too, was enthusiastic, ardent, per
haps imprudent, at least so she seems to have judged
in cooler moments ; but there was too much of the
pure womanly character in her, to suffer her ever to
sympathize with the assertors of " woman s rights,"
(so called ;) and she was not to be spoiled even though
exposed to the influence of Horace Walpole s
" philosophising serpents, the Paines, the Tookes,
and the Wollstoriecrofts."
Tuesday, 1794.
MY DEAR MRS. T.
At length I have found an opportunity of
writing to you at my leisure, but now, though I have begun
with the resolution of being very grave and very sentimental,
I feel such an inclination to run into plain matters of fact
and narration, that I shall beg leave to content myself with
a recital of the events of my journey to town yesterday,
requesting at the same time a recital of the events of your
life, since I saw you, in return. We will leave gravity and
sentiment to be the order of the evening when we resume
our Wednesday tete a tetes, and rejoice in the absence of
husband and father.
Mr. J. Boddington and I set off for town yesterday by
way of Islington, that we might pay our first visit to Godwin,
at Somers Town. After a most delightful ride through some
42 MEMORIALS OF THE
of the richest country I ever beheld, we arrived at about
one o clock at the philosopher s house, whom we found with
his hair bien poudre, and in a pair of new, sharp-toed, red
morocco slippers, not to mention his green coat and crimson
under-waistcoat. He received me very kindly, but wondered
I should think of being out of London ; could I be either
amused or instructed at Southgate? How did 1 pass my
time? What were my pursuits? and a great deal more,
which frightened my protector, and tired me, till at last I told
him I had not yet outlived my affections, and that they bound
me to the family at Southgate. But was I to acknowledge
any other dominion than that of reason? "but are you
sure that my affections in this case are not the result of
reason?" He shrugged disbelief, and after debating some
time, he told me I was more of the woman than when he saw
me last. Rarely did we agree, and little did he gain on me
by his mode of attack ; but he seemed alarmed lest he should
have offended me, and apologised se-veral times, with much
feeling, for the harshness of his expressions. In short, he
convinced me that his theory has not yet gotten entire
ascendancy over his practice. He has promised to come
over to spend a day at Southgate, when I shall pit rational
belief in Mr. M., against atheism in Mr. Godwin. Mr. B.
was disgusted with his manner ; though charmed with that of
Barry, whom we called on last week. Godwin told me he
had talked of me to Mrs. Inchbald, that she recollected me,
and wished to see me; so I determined to call on her after I
had paid my visit to Mrs. Siddons. From Godwin s, we
went to Ives Hurry s in the City, where we left our chair
and horses, and proceeded in a coach to Mrs. Betham s, to
have my profile taken, and thence we drove to Marlborough
Street. I found Mrs. Siddons engaged in nursing her
little baby, and as handsome and charming as ever. She
played last Wednesday before her month was up, and is now
confined to her room with the cold she caught behind the
scenes. There too, I saw Charles Kemble, as I passed
through his sister s dressing room, and thought him so like
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 43
Kemble, Mrs. Twiss, and Mrs. Siddons, that it was some
time before I could recollect myself enough to know whether
he was a man or a woman. Sally and Maria, tell my father,
are quite well, and inquired much concerning him. The
baby is all a baby can be, but Mrs. S. laughs, and eays it is
a wit and a beauty already in her eyes ; she leaves town
to-day, or she would have invited me for a longer visit-
From Marlborough Street, we drove to Mrs. Inchbald s, who
is as pretty as ever, and much more easy and unreserved in
her manner, than when I last saw her. With her we passed
an hour, and when I took my leave, she begged I would call
on her again. She is in charming lodgings, and has just
received two hundred pounds from Sheridan, for a farce
containing sixty pages only. From her house we drove into
the city. You will wonder, perhaps, where we dined. Be
it known unto you, that we never dine when we visit
London. Ives Hurry, as soon as we arrive at his house,
always treats us with as much ice and biscuits as we can eat ;
we then sally forth, and eat ice again when we want it ; so
we did yesterday, and Mrs. Siddons roast beef had no
temptations for us. As we returned to I. H. s, we went to
Daniel Isaac Eaton s shop ; we had scarcely entered it, when
a very genteel-looking young man came in. He examined
us, and we him ; and suspicion being the order of the day, I
dared not talk to Mrs. Eaton till the stranger was engaged
in conversation with Boddington. I then told her that
curiosity led me to her shop, and that I came from that city
of sedition, Norwich. Her eyes sparkled, and she asked me if
I knew Charles Marsh ? " You come from Norwich, (cried
the stranger,) allow me to ask you some questions," &c., &c.
He put questions, I answered them, and in a short time Mr.
J. B. and myself were both so charmed with his manners
and conversation, that we almost fancied we had known him
before. We saw that he was intimate with Mrs. E. and her
sweet girl, and seemed to be as much at home in the shop as
the counter itself. So we had no fears of him ; at last we
became so fraternized, that Mrs. E. shut the shop door and
44 MEMORIALS OF THE
gave us chairs. I will not relate the information I heard,
but I could have talked with him all night. "Well, but
who was he ?" Have patience and you shall hear. Finding
that he was just returned from Scotland, and was au fait of
all the proceedings there, and that his connexions were
those of high life; I asked where Lord Daer was, and
lamented that he was not one of the arrested members. He
smiled, and said that Lord D. wanted nerve then, and
fortitude to resist the anxieties of his mother, and sisters, the
most accomplished women in England ; that the very day of
the arrest he had received a letter from Lord Daer, promising
to be with them if possible ; and in the evening another note
to say Lady Selkirk was ill, and that he could not leave her.
" Indeed ! I thought he bailed you," said Mrs. Eaton. " Oh !
110," replied the other. Mr. B. and I looked at each other,
wondering who "you," was; but I began to suspect, and
went on questioning him. He said they dared not hurt
Lord D ; that they dared not attack any man of connexions
and estate in Scotland : that had he himself been condemned,
or sent to Botany Bay, his connexions would have risen to a
man. I ventured to say, that however amiable Lord D s
family might be, he ought to have disregarded their influence.
He replied that I was quite right, and that he himself had
disregarded them; that democratic women were rare, and
that he heartily wished he could introduce me to two
charming patriots at Edinburgh, who were, though women,
up to circumstances and a great deal more, that raised my
curiosity to a most painful height ; at last, having said that
he had laid it down as a rule for his conduct, that a patriot
should be without the hope of living, or the fear of dying,
he took his leave, leaving our minds elevated and delighted.
Mrs. E. told us it was Mr. Sinclair, Sir John s nephew, he
who was tried, and acquitted. He says Lord D. is supposed
to be dying, and he himself looks in bad health, but his
countenance is fine, and his manners elegant. " What think
you of Mr. Windham ?" said I, " Oh ! the poor creature is
out of his element; he might have done very well for a
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 45
college disputant or a Greek professor, perhaps, but that s
all. "Why do the Norwich patriots espouse Mingay ? what
can they expect? (said he,) he might be a very good
implement of resentment against Windham, but, though the
friend of their necessity, not of their choice." Is he not
right? * * * *
The following letter begins quite abruptly, and is
without date.
How strange it is, my dear friend, that I should
have suffered your kind letter to remain so long unanswered^
but, as I am certain that you will not impute my silence to
any diminution of affection towards you, I will not fret
about my oddity, but endeavour to make amends for it, by
writing as good a letter as I can, and that will be, alas ! very
stupid ; for the state of the times and other things press upon
my mind continually, and unfit me for everything but
conversation. My father will have told you a great deal ; he
will have told you too how much we are interested and agitated
by the probable event of the approaching trials. Would to
God, you and your husband were equally so, for then would
one of my cares be removed ; as you would, like us, perhaps
turn a longing eye towards America as a place of refuge;
and one of the strongest ties that binds me to Norwich
would be converted into an attraction to lure me to the new
world. On this, at least, I hope we are at all events resolved ;
to emigrate, if the event of the trial be fatal ; that is, provided
the Morgans do not give up their present resolution, and
that we can carry a little society along with us, in which we
can be happy, should Philadelphia disappoint our expec
tations. I write to you on this subject in confidence ; as we
do not wish our intention to be much known at present.
How changed I am ! How I sicken at the recollection of
past follies and past connexions, and wish from the bottom of
my soul, that I had never associated but with you and others
like you. But it is folly to dwell on the past ; it only
incapacitates one for enjoying the present ; it shall now be
46 MEMORIALS OF THE
my care to anchor on the future, and I trust in God that it
will not disappoint me.
You see I am not in high spirits ; but then I am the more
natural; and my flighty hours are long gone by, and my
time for serious exertion is, I hope, arrived ; but why should
I write thus ? I shall perhaps infect you with this seeming
gloom ; for, after all, if I carefully examine my heart, it will
tell me, that I am happy. My usual spirits have been
lowered this morning, by hearing Mr. Boddington and Mr.
Morgan mark the printed list of the jury. Every one
almost is marked by them as unfit to be trusted ; for almost
every man is a rascal, and a contractor, and in the pay of
government some way or another.
What hope is there then for these objects of ministerial
rancour? Mr. B. objects even to his own uncle, whom he
thinks honest, because he is so prejudiced an aristocrat, that
he looks upon rigour, in such cases, to be justice only. What
a pass are things come to, when even dissenters lick the
hand that oppresses them ! Hang these politics ! how they
haunt me. Would it not be better, think you, to hang the
f ranters of them ?
What is a woman made of, think you, that can sue a man
for inconstancy ? Truly of very coarse materials ; yet I
really believe Miss Mann s trial would have attracted me
more than that for sedition. It would have given me so many
new ideas. ; I wish my father could have remained
with us, but he was very good to stay so long as he did ; and
I have the satisfaction of knowing he was happy while he did
stay. He will tell you enough about Mrs. Inchbald, for he
is quite smitten with her. Nay, I rather suspect he paid her
a farewell visit. Pray tell him to write to me soon.
What a pity it is that The Cabinet is dangerous. I should
have enjoyed it else so much. I admire what is already
written. We are going to-night, as usual, to W. Morgan s,
where I shall sing as usual, your husband s song. How I
wish he was here to sing it instead of me. Farewell. Pray
write to me soon.
A. A.
LIFE OF AMELIA OP1E. 47
Although, as we have said, the letters describing
what she saw at the Old Bailey were destroyed, she
has fortunately preserved an anecdote of much interest
relative to them, which was recalled to her recollection
many years subsequently, on occasion of a visit she
paid to Madame de Stael ; she says :
With this woman of excelling genius and winning manners,
I had the pleasure of being acquainted in the year 1813;
when, with her daughter, then of the age of sixteen, who
afterwards became Duchess de Broglie, and Mr. Rocca, to
whom she was then privately married, she was residing for
some months in London, when exiled by Napoleon from
France. One morning I went to call on her by appointment,
accompanied by a friend of mine whom she wished to see, on
some particular business. Scarcely had that business been
concluded, when the servant announced Lord Erskine, who
came in with books in his hands, and when he saw me he
cried, " I am glad to see you here, for I want you to read
something for me." He then gracefully bowed to Madame
de Stael and presented the two books to her, containing, he
said, his most celebrated speeches ; and opening the first
volume he turned to the first page, on which he had written
a dedication to la Baronne de Stael in English, which he
begged me to read to her. " No, no, not so," she exclaimed
eagerly, taking the book from me, " I can read it myself."
Accordingly she began ; while I, myself an author, soon felt
painful sympathy with poor Lord E. s feelings ; for the
writing was, I dare say, difficult for her, a foreigner, to read ;
and the poor writer s smooth and elegant periods were, in a
great measure, deprived of their charm, by their meaning
being sometimes stammered out, and, possibly, not entirely
understood. However, the lady was flattered with what she
did understand, and Lord E. soon recovered the steadiness of
his nerves : and taking up the second volume, which contained
his speeches at the Old Bailey trials in the year 1794, he
read some favourite passages to her, and finished by alluding
48 MEMORIALS OF THE
to the evident dislike which the Lord Chief Baron Eyre,
who presided at them, entertained for him, and how strongly
he proved it during the trial of Home Tooke, who was the
second person tried for his life, and was (like the first person,
Thomas Hardy) entirely acquitted. He then related what
had passed between himself and the Chief Justice, after the
trial was over and the crowd dispersed, and which I, who was
present, well remembered having, by accident, overheard.
Liking to be near the eloquent man and to hear him speak, I
had contrived to get so near as to overhear what passed, and
which I thought was too loud, not to be intended to be heard.
The judge had, I saw, to repeat what he said ; but at length
he was answered in a manner which he little expected ; for
the indignant speaker replied, " My lord, I am willing to give
your lordship such an answer as an aggrieved man of honour
like myself is willing to give to the man who has repeatedly
insulted him, and I am willing and ready to meet your
lordship, at any time and place that you may choose to
appoint." At this point of his story our hostess cried, " What !
my lord, that was a challenge, n est ce pas f " Yes, ma am."
" Well, what did he say?" "Oh! nothing to the purpose;
but I assure you I was irritated into saying what I did."
" Yes, indeed, I was behind you, Lord E. (said I,) and heard
all that passed ; and though such things were quite new to
me, I felt sure what was said by you amounted to a challenge ;
but when I told the friends with whom I went home what
had passed, they said I was a silly girl and that I was
mistaken." He looked at me with some surprise, and, I fear,
with a doubt of my veracity ; but I could affirm to the truth of
my assertion. I do not wonder, however, as he did not then
know me personally, and was not conscious of my proximity,
or that of any one else perhaps, that he was inclined to
distrust my truthfulness ; but it was a fact, that the
circumstance and the words he related, were, I believe,
witnessed and overheard by me alone ; and a curious fact or
coincidence it was, that this conversation, overheard by me in
the year 1794, I should be present to hear related to the
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 49
Baronne de Stael by Lord E. himself in the year 1813.
The circumstance and the words he has published at the end
of the trial of Home Tooke; and I could, with a safe
conscience, underwrite all that he there relates. I fear that
he really believed I was romancing, or he would have named
this odd corroboration of his conduct, which no doubt he
thought the noble daring of a man of worldly honour.
Among Mrs. Opie s loose papers was one written
within a short time of her death, containing some
introductory remarks to a reminiscence she purposed
to write of this eventful period. It begins
" Tis pleasant from the loophole of retreat
To look on such a world,"
wrote Cowper : but these words do not exactly express my
present feelings ; for from my loophole of retreat I am
looking with pleasure, not on the world as it is, but on the
world as it was.
The occurrences of the year 1794 have lately been pressing
with such power on my remembrance, demanding from me a
decided confession that it was the most interesting period of
my long life, (or nearly such,) that I am inclined to give an
account of what made it so, and acknowledge that it was the
opportunity unexpectedly afforded me of attending the trials
of Hardy, Home Tooke, and Thelwall, at the Old Bailey, for
High Treason. What a prospect of ^ntertainment was
opening before me when (while on a visit at Southgate, near
London) I heard that at these approaching trials, to which I
hoped to obtain admission, I should not only hear the first
pleaders at the bar, but behold, and probably hear examined,
the first magnates of the land ; and on the event depended,
not a nisi prius cause, or one of petty larceny, but interests
of a public nature, and most nearly affecting the safety and
prosperity of the nation; aye, and much personally inter
esting to myself; as I knew, in the secret of my heart, that
my own prospects for life might probably be changed and
50 MEMORIALS OF THE
darkened by the result. To such a height had party-spirit
reached on both sides, in my native city and elsewhere, that
even innocent men were accused of treasonable intentions
and practices, who talked, when excited by contradiction, the
fearful things they would never have thought of acting ; and
I had reason to believe that if the "felons" about to be tried
should not be " acquitted felons," certain friends of mine
would have emigrated to America, and my beloved father
would have been induced to accompany them !
This was, indeed, an alarming idea to me, who was only
beginning to taste the pleasures of London society, and who
could still say, in spite of the excitement of party feeling,
and my unity of opinion with the liberals of that day,
(< England ! with all thy faults I love thee still ;" and when, on
the 28th of the 10th mo., the trial of Thomas Hardy began
at the Sessions-house in the Old Bailey, existence acquired,
in my eyes, a new but painful interest; and, with the pleasing
anticipations of the unexpected enjoyment awaiting me, were
mingled some apparently well-founded fears of evil to come.
How vividly do I often now, in my lone and lonely portion,
live over the excitements of those far distant days, in the
many, many evening hours, which I pass not unwillingly
alone.
" Alone ! if tis to be alone, when memory s spells are cast
To summon phantoms from the dead, and voices from the past,
Long woven in the tangled web of the mysterious brain,
Till time and space are things of naught, and all is ours again." *
Yes! how often (as I said) do I recall with all these
alternate emotions of pain and pleasure, of disappointment
and fruition, the last days of October, and the first five days
of November, 1794! * * *
Here the manuscript breaks off.
* From a charming Poem called the Desert Dream, written by
Anna Savage, and published in the Monthly Magazine for
April, 1847. A. 0.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 51
CHAPTER IV.
FRENCH EMIGRANTS; LETTER TO MRS. TAYLOR; LETTER OF THE DUKE
D AIGUILLON ; VISIT TO LONDON, AND LETTER FROM THENCE ; LONDON
AGAIN; LETTER FROM MRS. WOLLSTONECROFT ; FIRST INTRODUCTION
TO MR. OPIE ; MR. OPIE*S EARLY HISTORY ; RETURN TO NORWICH ;
PREPARATIONS FOR MARRIAGE.
THE sufferings endured by the upper and proscribed
classes in France during the time of the French
Revolution, obliged (as is well known) multitudes of
them to take refuge in this country ; and, in the year
1797, London and its suburbs alone were found, by
an official return, to contain seven thousand and
forty-one Aliens. Many of these were subjected to
the extremes of want and misery ; their condition
exciting the compassion, as well as the indignation,
of the humane. Amongst them were not a few men
of high standing and repute, who were received into
society, and found friends among the wealthier classes
of the community. It was just at this period, that
the celebrated Count de Lally Tolendal, published
his " Defence of the French Emigrants ; " a work
well known all over Europe, as soon as it was pub
lished. To this gentleman Mrs. Opie addressed a
" Quatrain," on reading his " Defence of his Father,"
which subsequently appeared among her published
poems. This favour he acknowledged, in a letter
dated from Cossey, (near Norwich,) accompanied by a
E 2
52 MEMORIALS OF THE
French poem of one hundred lines, which she pre
served among her papers. It was very natural that
she, whose sympathies were ever so keenly alive to
the sorrows of others, should become warmly inte
rested on behalf of these unhappy exiles ; and she
appears to have formed many acquaintances among
them, during the time she spent in London. The
following letter to Mrs. Taylor gives a lively narrative
of one of the soirees, at which she met a party of the
emigrants, among whom was the Due d Aiguillon;
and we have added a letter from him, received by her
the following year, on the cover of which she has
written, " From the Duke d Aiguillon, the ex-minister ;
one of the second importation of emigrants."
TO MRS. TAYLOR.
v Sunday Morning, 179-5.
It is so long, my dear friend, since I conversed with you,
even through the imperfect medium of a letter, that I joy
fully take advantage of the first favourable opportunity for
writing you a long epistle, in hopes that I may rouse you to
pay me in coin. Besides you are in a state of widowhood
and require all the attention possible to console you for so
forlorn a condition ! What shall I tell you by way of anec
dote ? My father has read you, perhaps, my account of
Charles Lameth ; take some more particulars respecting that
extraordinary man. You may suppose that I felt a new and
pleasing sensation while contemplating him, as I knew him
to be one of the actors in the first revolution ; and as soon
as my silence yielded to my curiosity, I began questioning
him concerning some of the patriotic leaders. Amongst others
I inquired what he thought of Legendre ? He says Legendre,
though misled, has some good points in his character, and
is not a bad man ; he then gave us the following instance of
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 53
his determined spirit and resolution ; " I was, at the time I
mention/ said Larneth, "president of the National Convention,
and had been supping at your house, (turning to the Due
d Aiguillon,) when, at midnight, my servant came to me, and
said, A man muffled up is in a hackney coach at the door, and
wants to see you. Tell him to come in. He refuses.
Go and ask his name, He did so, and returned saying,
f His name is Legendre. Hearing this, I went into the coach
to him, and demanded his business. I come to you, replied he,
6 as president of the National Convention ; I hear that an
accusation is bringing forward against me, and as I shrink
not from the charge, I came to surrender myself, and save
you the trouble here I am, guillotine me, if you will, I am
firm and steady. I endeavoured to convince him the decree
of accusation might be repealed, and that all that was neces
sary was his concealment till the danger was gone by.
e Conceal me then in your house, my own is not safe, cried
he ; but I convinced him that mine was too public. However,
I sent to a friend in whom I could confide, who concealed
Legendre in his, till the decree was annulled."
" Oh !" said Sam. Rogers to me, some time after, " I do
not like the fellow s looks, I would not have gone muffled up
to his house, at midnight, and have given him leave to kill
me, for fear he should have taken me at my word !" This led
Mr. Rogers to give his opinion of the three emigres then with
us, and of Duport, another of considerable talents, who was
prevented coming ; and he defined them thus : " Though I
have often entertained Lameth at my house, I should expect
he would treat me insolently, and make me feel the distance
between us, even if he admitted me to his table. The
Marquis would grin at me, and pass on ; the Due would be
glad to see me, and do me immediately all the service and
civility in his power; but Duport would open his arms to
me !" Lameth entertained the gentlemen very much, by his
account of the fascinating Madame de Condorcet, and of her
method of acquiring votes for the members whom she
wished returned. These favoured men were called "the
54 MEMORIALS OF THE
majority of Madame de Condorcet;" and, on my innocently
asking what it meant, I saw enough, from the laugh I
excited, and L s mysterious manner of answering, to know
that the majority of Madame de Condorcet meant no good.
" Does she live still ? " said I ; " Oh, yes," cried the Due,
" she is in no danger ; all parties will be her friend ; she is
so pretty and so accommodating ; and Pm sure she 11 be the
friend of all parties" The Marquis, who was the intimate
friend of the Due de Rouchefoucault, says, though he
brought Condorcet forward, fed him, lodged him, and married
him, Condorcet was justly suspected of being privy to his as
sassination. When Lameth was forced to fly, as he was
denounced in the Jacobin Club, and orders given for his
detention, he sent to desire such a portmanteau to be for
warded directly to him ; having received it, and wanting
some of the money and papers which it contained, he
opened it as soon as he was out of France, and found, to
his utter surprise and dismay, that the wrong portmanteau
had been sent, and instead of money, that it contained
his wife s child- bed linen ! " Et les voila encore, mesdames f
(continua-t-il) car, en verite, je n ai pas eu encore occasion
d en faire usage." *
a Hambourg, chez Mr. Fortune de la Yigne,
Negotiant, ce 6 fevrier, 1796.
TO MISS AMELIA ALDEESON, ME. ALDEESON S, NOEWICH.
MADEMOISELLE,
Daignez agreer 1 assurance bien sincere, de la
vive reconnaissance que rn in spire le marque aimable, de
souvenir et d interet, que vous avez bien voulu me donner.
Je vous dois mille remerciemens, et de la lettre done vous
avez charge Mr. le Chevalier de Bercley, et de m avoir
procure le plaisir de le connaitre. Je 1 ai vu assez pour que
le peu de sejour qu il a fait ici, m ai laisse beaucoup de regrets.
J ai mille excuses a vous faire d avoir autant tarde vous
repondre; mais j ai ete, pendant plus de quinze jours,
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 55
tellement malade d un rhume mele de fievre, et de goutte
(ma constante ennemie) que j etois dans 1 impossibilite
absolue d ecrire un seal mot. Croyez, je vous prie,
Mademoiselle, qu il a fallu une raison aussi forte, pour
m empecher de vous exprimer plutot toute ma gratitude, et
le plaisir que j ai, d etre assure par vous, que je ne partage pas
le sort ordinaire aux absens,
Kecevez mes remerciemens des jolis airs que vous m avez
envoyes. Je les conserverai avec soin, et ne les donnerai
quoique vous en disiez, a personne. Us ont renouvelle mes
regrets, en me rappellant ces tendres et jolies romances que
vous chantiez avec 1 expression de la musique et toute celle
du sentiment, ce qui vaut bien mieux.
Je vous rends graces, Mademoiselle, des souhaits, vraiment
pleins de bonte que vous faites en ma faveur. Je crains qu ils ne
soyent encore longtems a s accomplir; cependant, je n en suis
pas moins sensible a votre obligeance. Mais vous ! que
desirer pour votre bonheur ? La nature n a-t-elle pas pourvu
& tout, en vous donnant les qualites du coeur, celles de 1 esprit,
des graces, des talents? Je me bornerai done a souhaiter
que vous soyez toujours aussi heureuse que vous meritez de
1 etre, et c est tout dire.
II me paroit que vous avez a Norwich une Societe de
Fran9ais assez agreable. Je ne connois point ceux que vous
me nommez ; mais j envie leur sort, d etre aupres de vous, et
de vous plaire, a propos! que peut fonder ce reproche
d aristocratie fait a mon ami, M. de L? Voila, vraisembla-
blement, la premiere fois qu il en est accuse. Cela est assez
plaisant, et le singularite du fait, Fempeche, en verite,
d etre aussi afflige qu il le seroit, d etre juge par vous aussi
severement.
Adieu, Mademoiselle. Adieu ! Croyez que je regarderois
comme un vrai bonheur d etre instruit quelquefois de ce qui
peut vous interesser. Veuillez bien agreer I hommage du
tendre respect et de Fattachement sincere, que je vous ai
voue.
D AlGUILLON.
56 MEMORIALS OF THE
Miss Alderson s visit in London seems to have been
protracted to a period of some months ; a season full
of constant occupation and variety, passed amidst a
gay round of visits and amusements, which, however,
did not merely serve the end of the fleeting hour s
enjoyment, but in which she studied human nature,
and became acquainted with the world and its ways,
to good practical purpose. There are two other letters
to her friend, of this period, from which we make the
following extracts:
* * * Yesterday morning I had the unexpected
pleasure of a visit from Mr. Wrangham. He did not stay
long, but he has promised to call again, and is as gentle,
elegant, and interesting as ever; he gained the Seatonian
prize for a poem this year, which is published, and he has
promised to send me one. I am much pleased with Mr. W.
Taylor s Ode to the ship that conveys Gerald. Though he
would not favour me with a copy of the elegant sonnet he
sent me on the morning of my departure, my memory retains
every word of it; and I catch myself repeating the first
and last line, whenever home and its varied associations
crowd on my mind. Month follows month in this wilderness
of pleasure, if I may call it so, where fruits and flowers
dispute pre-eminence with weeds ; and yet I cannot say, " I ll
stay here no longer," till, as I said before, my natal soil and
its comforts press on my mind, and I exclaim, tf Ah ! not for
ever quaff at pleasure s distant fount ! " To-morrow I am
going to enjoy " the feast of reason and the flow of soul,"
with Mrs. Barbauld and Dr. Geddes, at Mrs. Howard s. I
wish I could wish you there. Godwin drank tea and supt
here last night ; a leave-taking visit, as he goes to-morrow to
spend a fortnight at Dr. Parr s. It would have entertained
you highly to have seen him bid me farewell. He wished
to salute me, but his courage failed him. "While oft
he looked back, and was loth to depart." " Will you give
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 57
me nothing to keep for your sake, and console me during my
absence/ murmured out the philosopher, "not even your
slipper? I had it in my possession once, and need not have
returned it ! " This was true ; my shoe had come off, and he
had put it in his pocket for some time. You have no idea
how gallant he is become; but indeed he is much more
amiable than ever he was. Mrs, Inchbald says, the report of
the world is, that Mr. Holcroft is in love with her, she with
Mr. Godwin, Mr. Godwin with me, and I am in love with
Mr. Holcroft I A pretty story indeed ! This report Godwin
brings to me, and he says Mrs. I. always tells him that when
she praises Mm, I praise Holcroft. This is not fair in Mrs. I.
She appears to me jealous of G. s attention to me, so she
makes him believe I prefer H. to him. She often says to
me, " Now you are come, Mr. Godwin does not come near
me." Is not this very womanish? We had a most delightful
conversation last night. A dispute on the merits of different
poets, Mr. G. abusing Collins, I defending him, G. setting
Gray above him, and I putting him below him; but we
agreed about Churchill, who was one of mj flames. How
idle I am I I cannot write, and I read but little, but I shall
mend. Farewell! Mr. Batty and I both wear you "in
our heart s core," and so would Mrs. B, if she knew you. I
love and admire them more every day. Love to the
Barnards; my love to the Smiths. Dear love and good
wishes to the boys and girls.
Yours,
Thursday.
MY DEAR MKS. TAYLOR,
* * * * I flatter myself with the idea
that you hear most of my letters to my father ; consequently
that you know my movements, and can judge of the probable
quantity of enjoyment I experience. I am now about to
enjoy pleasant society in a pleasant country, one of the first
luxuries at this season of the year ; but still I sigh for home,
that is, I sigh for a day or two of confidential intercourse
58 MEMORIALS OF THE
with you and others, and to wash off the dirt of London in
the sea of Cromer ; to write poetry on the shore, to live over
again every scene there that memory loves (and never did
she love them so dearly as now ;) and, having rioted in all
that my awakened fancy can give, return to Norwich, and
endeavour to make one of my plays, at least, fit to be offered
to one of the managers of the winter theatres. Such is my
plan; and in it I live, move, and have my being.
Bless me ! what a busy place Norwich has been, and I not
in it I but then I heard H. Tooke and Fox speak, and that s
something. To be sure 1 had rather have heard Buonaparte
address his soldiers ; but as pleasure delayed is not pleasure
lost, I may still hope to hear him when the bonnet rouge has
taken place of the tiara, and a switch from the tree of liberty
dangles from that hand which formerly wielded the crozier.
But alas I this is no laughing matter, or rather let us laugh
while we can, for I believe an hour to be approaching when
salut et fraternite will be the watchwords for civil slaughter
throughout Europe; and the meridian glory of the sun of
Liberty, in France, will light us to courting the past dangers
and horrors of the republic, in hopes of obtaining her present
power and greatness. It will be an awful time ; may I meet
it with fortitude ! But I shrink, and shrink only, from the
idea of ties dear to my heart, which it will for ever break ; of
the friendships I must forego ; of the dangers of those I love ;
and of friends equally dear to me, meeting in the field of
strife opposed in mortal combat ! I feel heart-sick at such
possibilities ; yet which amongst us dare assert that such
possibilities may not, ere long, be probable ?
Mrs. Imlay tells me, no words can describe the feelings
which the scenes she witnessed in France gave birth to
continually it was a sort of indefinite terror. She was
sitting alone, when Imlay came in and said, " I suppose you
have not heard the sad news of to-day?" " What is it? is
Brissot guillotined ? " " Not only Brissot, but the one-and-
twenty are. Amongst them she immediately could conjure
up the faces of some lately endeared acquaintances, and before
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 59
she was conscious of the effect of the picture, she sunk lifeless
on the floor : and Mrs. Imlay is not a fine lady if any mind
could be unmoved at such things hers would ; but a series of
horrors must have a very weakening tendency. When we
meet I shall have much to tell you. Yesterday I had a letter
from Catherine ; she is well and happy, she says ; but we ll
read her letter together.
Farewell I Mrs. Barbauld is more charming than ever ;
both he and she speak of you as you deserve. Love
to Mrs. Beecroft, and Fanny Smith, and all the circle of
home. * * *
In the spring of 1797 we find her again in town,
accompanying her friend Mrs. Inchbald on the 17th
April, to Westminster, to hear a sermon from Bishop
Horsley. Again she extended her visit to several
months ; and a most eventful time it proved to be in
her history, as will be gathered from her communica
tions to Mrs, Taylor. Some unexpected changes too
had occurred amongst her acquaintances, since she
left them, twelve or fourteen months before. The
philosophic Godwin had justified her opinion of him,
and proved that his heart was not so wise as his head;
he had married Mrs. Wollstonecroft, a strange in
comprehensible woman, whose unhappy existence
terminated shortly after this marriage. A letter from
her to Miss Alderson, seems to have been written at
this time, and as it is of painful interest, and curious
in more respects than one, we subjoin it :
MY DEAR GIRL,
Endeavouring, through embarrassment, to
turn the conversation from myself last night, I insensibly
became too severe in my strictures on the vanity of a certain
60 MEMORIALS OF THE
lady, and my heart smote me when I raised a laugh at her
expense. Pray forget it, I have now to tell you that I am
very sorry I prevented you from engaging a box for Mrs-
Inchbald, whose conduct, I think, has been very rude. She
wrote to Mr. Godwin to-day, saying, that, taking it for
granted he had forgotten it, she had spoken to another person.
" She would not do so the next time he was married." Non
sense ! I have now to request you to set the matter right.
Mrs. Inchbald may still get a box; I beg her pardon for
misunderstanding the business, but Mr. G. led me into the
error, or I will go to the pit. To have done with disagreeable
subjects at once, let me allude to another. I shall be sorry
to resign the acquaintance of Mrs. and Mr. F. Twiss, because
I respect their characters, and feel grateful for their atten
tion ; but my conduct in life must be directed by my own
judgment and moral principles : it is my wish that Mr.
Godwin should visit and dine out as formerly, and I shall do
the same ; in short, I still mean to be independent, even to
the cultivating sentiments and principles in my children s
minds, (should I have more,) which he disavows. The wound
my unsuspecting heart formerly received is not healed. I
found my evenings solitary ; and I wished, while fulfilling the
duty of a mother, to have some person with similar pursuits,
bound to me by affection ; and beside, I earnestly desired to
resign a name which seemed to disgrace me. Since I have
been unfortunately the object of observation, I have had it
in my power, more than once, to marry very advantageously ;
and of course, should have been courted by those, who at
least cannot accuse me of acting an interested part, though I
have not, by dazzling their eyes, rendered them blind to my
faults. I am proud perhaps, conscious of my own purity and
integrity ; and many circumstances in my life have contributed
to excite in my bosom an indignant contempt for the forms
of a world I should have bade a long good night to, had I
not been a mother. Condemned then, to toil my hour out,
I wish to live as rationally as I can ; had fortune or splendor
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 61
been my aim in life, they have been within my reach, would
I have paid the price. Well, enough of the subject ; I do not
wish to resume it. Good night ! God bless you.
MAKY WOLLSTONECROFT,
femme GODWIN.
Tuesday Night.
From this letter, it is cheering to turn to the bright
joyous spirit, evinced in the following, which contains
the first announcement of the important event to
which we alluded just now.
TO MRS. TAYLOR.
Tuesday, 1797.
Why have I not written to you? it is a question I cannot
answer ; you must answer it yourself, but attribute my
silence, not to any diminution of affection for you * * * *
Believe me, I still hear the kind fears you expressed for me
when we parted, and still .see the flattering tears that you
shed when you bade me adieu. Indeed, I shall never forget
them. I had resolved to write to you as soon as ever I had
seen Richard, but it was a resolution made to be broken ;
like many others in this busy scene. Had I written to you
as soon as I left, of all those whom I have heard talk of and
praise you as you deserve, I should have ruined you in
postage. Poor Mr. C. is desperately in love with you, by his
own confession, and his wife admires his taste. Mr. Godwin
was much gratified by your letter, and he avowed that it
made him love you better than he did before, and Mrs.
Godwin was not surprised at it ; by the bye, he never told
me whether you congratulated him on his marriage or not ;
but now I remember, it was written before that wonder-
creating event was known. Heigho ! what charming things
would sublime theories be, if one could make one s practice
keep up with them ; but I am convinced it is impossible, and
am resolved to make the best of every-day nature.
62 MEMORIALS OF THE
I shall have much to tell you in a tete a ttte, of the
Godwins, &c. so much that a letter could not contain or do
it justice ; but this will be entre nous ; I love to make
observations on extraordinary characters ; but not to mention
those observations if they be not favourable.
" Well ! a whole page, and not a word yet of the state of
her heart ; the subject most interesting to me " methinks I
hear you exclaim ; patience, friend, it will come soon, but not
go away soon, were I to analyze it, and give it you in detail.
Suffice, that it is in the most comical state possible ; but I
am not unhappy, on the contrary, I enjoy everything; and
if my head be not turned by the large draughts which my
vanity is daily quaffing, I shall return to Norwich much
happier than I left it. Mr. Opie, has (but mum) been my
declared lover, almost ever since I came. I was ingenuous
with him upon principle, and I told him my situation, and
the state of my heart. He said he should still persist, and
would risk all consequences to his own peace, and so he did
and does ; and I have not resolution to forbid his visits. Is
not this abominable ? Nay more, were I not certain my father
would disapprove such, or indeed any connexion for me,
there are moments, when, ambitious of being a wife and
mother, and of securing to myself a companion for life,
capable of entering into all my pursuits, and of amusing me
by his, I could almost resolve to break all fetters, and relin
quish too, the wide, and often aristocratic circle, in which I
now move, and become the wife of a man, whose genius has
raised him from obscurity, into fame and comparative
affluence ; but indeed my mind is on the pinnacle of its
health when I thus feel ; and on a pinnacle one can t remain
long ! But I .had forgotten to tell you the attraction Mr. O.
held out, that staggered me beyond anything else ; it was
that, if I were averse to leaving my father, he would joyfully
consent to his living with us. What a temptation to me>
who am every moment sensible, that the claims of my father
will always be, with me, superior to any charms that a lover
can hold out! Often do I rationally and soberly state to
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 63
Opie the reasons that might urge me to marry him, in time,
and the reasons why I never could be happy with him, nor
he with me ; but it always ends in his persisting in his suit,
and protesting his willingness to wait for my decision ; even
while I am seriously rejecting him, and telling him I have
decided. * * * Mr. Holcroft ! too, has had a mind to me, but
he has no chance. May I trouble you to tell my father that,
while I was out yesterday, Hamilton called, and left a note,
simply saying, " Richardson says he means to call on you, I
have seen him this morning." Before I seal this letter I hope
to receive my farce from him ; I will put my letter by till
the boy returns from E. I have been capering about
the room for joy, at having gotten my farce back! now
idleness adieu, when Dicky and I have held sweet converse
together ! * * *
The first time Mr. Opie saw his future wife, was
at an evening party, at the house of one of her early
friends ; among the guests assembled, were Mr. Opie,
and a family, personally known to the writer of these
Memoirs. Some of those present were rather eagerly
expecting the arrival of Miss Alderson ; but the
evening was wearing away, and still she did not
appear ; at length the door was flung open, and she
entered, bright and smiling, dressed in a robe of blue,
her neck and arms bare; and on her head a small
bonnet, placed in somewhat coquettish style, sideways,
and surmounted by a plume of three white feathers.
Her beautiful hair hung in rich waving tresses over
her shoulders ; her face was kindling with pleasure
at sight of her old friends ; and her whole appearance
was animated and glowing. At the time she came in,
Opie was sitting on a sofa, beside Mr. F., who had
been saying, from time to time, " Amelia is coming ;
64 MEMORIALS OF THE
Amelia will surely come: why is she not here]"
and whose eyes were turned in her direction. He
was interrupted by his companion eagerly exclaiming
" Who is that? Who is that]" and hastily lising, he
pressed forward, to be introduced to the fair object
whose sudden appearance had so impressed him.
He was evidently smitten; charmed, at first sight,
and, as she says, " almost from my first arrival Mr.
Opie became my avowed lover."
It will not be necessary for us to give more than a
short reference to Mr. Opie s career before he became
acquainted with Amelia Alderson, He was born of
poor and respectable parents, and early showed a
remarkable strength of understanding and indomita
ble perseverance. His father would fain have
brought him up to his own business, (that of a
carpenter,) but to this the boy evinced a most decided
disinclination, and even so early as his 10th year the
bent of his talents was determined. In vain his
father endeavoured to discourage his attempts at
drawing ; he persisted in covering the walls of their
house with pictures of his family, his companions,
and favourite animals. Accident brought him to the
knowledge of Dr. Walcot, (the Peter Pindar of well-
known celebrity,) who assisted and recommended
him, and eventually introduced him, in his 20th year,
to the notice of the artistic world in London ; there he
was hailed as a wonder and a genius, and immediately
surrounded and employed by amateurs and many of
the nobility. The street in which he lived was so
crowded with carriages that, as he jokingly observed,
he thought he should have to plant a cannon at his
door to keep the multitude off! This popularity,
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 65
however, did not last long ; although he was really
improving by diligent practice, and advancing towards
excellence, the world began to cool upon him when
he ceased to be a novelty ; and soon neglected one it
had perhaps at first somewhat overvalued. By a
wise economy he had, even at this time, secured a
considerable sum of money; and with praiseworthy
diligence cultivated his mind, and in some degree
supplied his early want of education.
About this time, he unhappily married a woman,
wholly unworthy of him, who is reported to have
possessed some property. Before long he found
himself compelled to procure a divorce from her.
Probably this, domestic trouble had a serious effect
upon his temper and manners. His address was
naturally somewhat rugged and unpolished, especially
before his second marriage ; but those who knew him
.well, found that his disposition was the very reverse of
unfeeling or vindictive. Mrs. Inchbald says, " the
total absence of artificial manners was the most
remarkable characteristic, and at the same time the
adornment and the deformity of Mr. Opie." At the
time when he paid his addresses to Miss Alderson he
was in his 36th year. Mr. Allen Cunningham, in the
pleasing biography he has given of him in his " Lives
of the Painters," says, " in person Opie looked like
an inspired peasant."
We have no further record, reporting how he
fared in his courtship ; she vowed that his chances of
success were but one to a thousand ! But the indo
mitable one persevered. He knew his mind, and
persuaded her at length, that he had read her heart.
So she went home again to Norwich, to think of the
66 MEMORIALS OF THE
future, and prepare for it; one last short note
heralded her approach; probably the last she ever
addressed to her friend, bearing the signature,
"A. Alderson." *
Englefield Green,
Friday, August 12th, 1797.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
I cannot meet even the kindest glance of your
eye, without having written a few lines, before our reunion.
I must tell you, that of all the letters I have received from
my friends, yours gave me the most pleasure, though I had
not the grace to say so till now : when we meet I will tell
you why ; indeed I must put off a great many communica
tions till that time. Suffice, that whatever you hear about
me, you must disbelieve !
Here I am, on a high hill, wishing most fervently, though
not warmly, for a fire, and in the middle of August too!
Shall we, (I fear not,) have some hot evening walks? I
shall want them by way of relaxation from my studies, (do
not laugh.) Positively, I must set hard to work, as the
theatre opens in September. Farewell ! I must conclude, I
* For the benefit of our fair readers we subjoin a list found
among her old letters, of what probably formed a part of the contents
of her Trousseau.
Blue satin bonnet russe with eight blue feathers; nine small
feathers and a feather edge ; three blue round feathers and two blue
Scotch caps; one striped gold gauze bonnet russe; four scollop d
edged caps, a la Marie Stuart ; one bead cap ; one tiara ; two
spencers, one white, one black.
2nd Box, No. 1. Two yards broad figured lace, for neck and
wrists ; buff satin slip ; buff net gown ; three muslin gowns and one
skirt ; three frilled handkerchiefs ; one lace cap and two bands ; a
set of scarlet ribbon for the gown lined with blue ; three lace frills ;
worked cambric gown and flounces ; seven flat feathers and three
curled ones, &c., &c., &c.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 67
have been writing a long time ; with love to your spouse and
children, believe me most affectionately yours,
A. ALDERSON.
The time was approaching when she was to leave
her father s house, and the home and friends of her
youth, to become the wife of Mr. Opie. An ardent
love letter, still in existence, tells with what intense
desire he was awaiting her arrival; for it was
arranged that she should go, accompanied by her
father, to the house of one of their friends in London,
and be married from thence; towards the close of
this epistle he enters into some details respecting
the preparations he was making, in his domestic
arrangements, for the reception of his bride ; and
concludes :
I am puzzled, dearest, to know whether you expect to
hear from me to-morrow. If I think of anything particular
I ll write ; else not. To love thee much better than I did,
is, I think, impossible ; but my heart springs forward at the
thought of thy near approach. God bless thee ever, my
dearest love, and guard thee up safe to thy fond, anxious,
devoted,
J. O.
F 2
68
MEMORIALS OF THE
CHAPTER V.
MARRIAGE ; EARLY MENAGE ; AUTHORSHIP ; LAY ON PORTRAIT OF MRS.
TWISS ; LETTER TO MRS. TAYLOR ; YISIT TO NORWICH ; LETTER
FROM MR. OPIE; MRS. OPIE TO MRS. TAYLOR; MR. OPIE s MOTHER.
MR. AND MRS. OPIE were married in Marylebone
church on the 8th of May, 1798.
In the Memoir prefixed to her husband s life she
speaks with touching naivete and feeling of the
earlier years of their married life ; " great economy
and self denial were necessary," she says, " and were
strictly observed by us at that time." The habits and
tastes of Mr. Opie were, happily, very inexpensive,
and so domestic in their nature, that he preferred
spending his evenings at home to joining in society
abroad ; and liked nothing better, by way of relaxation
after the labours of the day, than to spend the evening
hours in converse with his wife, in reading with her
books of amusement or instruction, in studying prints
from the best ancient and modern masters, or in
sketching designs for his pictures. His love of his
profession was intense, and his unremitting industry
in the pursuance of it drew from Mr. Northcote the
observation, that while other artists painted to live,
he lived to paint. He was incessantly engaged in his
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 69
painting-room during the hours of day-light, and no
society, however pleasant, could long detain him from
it. It was indeed a passion to which the whole
energies of his heing were devoted. In one branch
of his art he appears to have been much indebted to
his wife, and in what way this was shewn will be best
told in her own words :
When Mr. Opie became again a husband, (she says,) he
found it necessary, in order to procure indulgences for a wife
whom he loved, to make himself popular as a portrait-painter,
and in that productive and difficult branch of the art, female
portraiture. He therefore turned his attention to those
points he had long been in the habit of neglecting, and his
pictures soon acquired a degree of grace and softness to
which they had of late years been strangers. At the second
exhibition after our marriage one of his fellow artists came
up to him and complimented him on his female portraits,
adding, te we never saw any thing like this in you before,
Opie ; this must be owing to your wife."
Her husband related with evident delight this
pleasing compliment to her who had inspired his
efforts. Her modesty did not permit her to speak of
another mode in which she assisted to promote his
interests; but her friend Mrs. Taylor has mentioned
that " in her own house, where Mr. Opie s talents
drew a constant succession of the learned, the gay,
and the fashionable, she delighted all by the sweetness
of her manners, and the unstudied and benevolent
politeness with which she adapted herself to the taste
of each individual."
Happy it was for them both, that Mr. Opie was
disposed to aid and encourage his wife in her
70 MEMORIALS OF THE
favourite tastes, and the exercise of her literary
talent. She observes :
Knowing at the time of our marriage that my most
favourite amusement was writing, he did not check my
ambition to become an author; on the contrary he
encouraged it, and our only quarrel on the subject was
not that I wrote so much, but that I did not write more
and better. Idleness was the fault that he was most violent
against in both sexes ; and I shall ever regret those habits of
indolence which made me neglect to write while it was in my
power to profit by his criticisms and advice, and when, by
employing myself more regularly in that manner, I should
have been sure to receive the proudest and dearest reward of
woman, the approbation of a husband, at once the object of
her respect and of her love.
Mr. Opie entertained a partiality for works of
fiction, and not unfrequently indulged himself in
reading a novel, even if it were not of the first class ;
and his wife remarks in defence of this taste :
He was above the petty, yet common affectation of con
sidering that sort of reading as beneath any persons but fools
and women ; and if his fondness for works of that description
was a weakness, it was one which he had in common with
Mr. Burke and Mr. Porson.
Encouraged by the sympathy and approval of the
man to whom she had united her fortunes, she soon
began to exert her powers with diligence, and ere
long became (as she expresses it) " a candidate for
the pleasures, the pangs, the rewards, and the
penalties, of authorship."
In one respect, indeed, they were not congenial in
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 71
their tastes; she ardently loved society, to which she had
been so much accustomed, and in which her talents so
peculiarly fitted her to appear to advantage. On the
contrary, it was with difficulty that Mr. Opie could be
induced to join a numerous and mixed assemblage.
He preferred to spend an evening occasionally at the
theatre, or rather at the opera; for he loved music,
and had so quick an ear that he would remember
accurately a tune that pleased him, after having
heard it once. When he sought society, he preferred
select dinner parties, where he could meet persons
whose friendship he valued, and from whom he might
hope to learn. With honourable pride his wife
observes :
He was conscious that he aimed at no competition with
the learned ; while, with a manly simplicity, which neither
feared contempt nor scorned applause, he has often, even in
such company, made observations, originating in the native
treasures of his o\vn mind, which learning could not teach,
and which learning alone could not enable the possessor to
appreciate.
In the year after her marriage Mrs. Opie wrote a
Lay " addressed to Mr. Opie on his having painted
for me the picture of Mrs. Twiss ;" it was published
the same year, in the 1st volume of " The Annual
Anthology," and was (she tells us) one of her earliest ;
the concluding lines contain a pleasing tribute of
affection to her husband :
Within my breast contending feelings rise,
While this lov d semblance fascinates my eyes;
Now pleas d, I mark the painter s skilful line,
Now joy, because the skill I mark, was thine ;
73 MEMORIALS OF THE
And while I prize the gift by thee bestow d,
My heart proclaims I m of the giver proud,
Thus pride and friendship war with equal strife,
And now the friend exults, and now the wife.
A. 0. 1799.
This picture was in her possession at the time of
her death ; it is " Portrait the Second " in her " Lays
for the Dead," which commences :
The gift of love
That speaking picture was of bridal love,
Now both the painter and his subject are
Where pictures come not. * * *
Mr. Opie s ardour in the pursuit of his profession
made him also unwilling to leave his home, even for
a short change of scene and relaxation. In the fre
quent visits paid to Norwich by his wife, it was with
difficulty she could prevail on him to accompany her ;
and whenever he was induced to do so, she says she
had no chance of detaining him there, unless he
found business awaiting him. In the autumn after
their marriage, she turned her steps towards her early
home, and rejoiced in greeting once more her father
and the friends of her youth. After her return to
London, we find her again resuming her pen to write
to Mrs. Taylor : this letter bears date
27th of January, 1800.
MY DEAK FRIEND,
* * * * John, I suppose, informed you he
called on us ; he promised to come and dine with us, but has
not been since ; and as I have been tied by the foot ever
since the day after Christmas day, from having worn a tight
bound shoe, which made a hole in my heel, I do not regret
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 73
his false-heartedness, as when he does come we are to go
church and meeting hunting. ***** Apropos,
I was very sorry to hear of your husband s severe return of
gout, but as he had a long respite before, I hope he will
again. Severe illness has (I often think) on the frame, the
same effect that a severe storm has on the atmosphere. I
myself am much better in every respect, since my late indis
position, than I was before ; and the mind is never perhaps
so serene and tranquil, as when one is recovering from sick
ness. I enjoyed my confinement, as I was not, like your
good man, in pain. My husband was so kind as to sit with
me every evening, and even to introduce his company to my
bedside. No less than three beaux had the honour of a
sitting in my chamber. Quite Parisian you see, but I dare
not own this to some women. I have led a most happy and
delightful life since my return, and in the whole two months
have not been out more than four times; so spouse and I
had no squabbles about visiting, and that is the only thing
we ever quarrel about. If I would stay at home for ever, I
believe he would be merry from morning to night ; and be a
lover more than a husband ! H e had a mind to accompany
me to an assembly in Nottingham place, but Mrs. Sharpe (a
most amiable woman) frightened him, by declaring he should
dance with her, if he did.
What the friendships of dissipated women are, Mrs.
going to a ball, while poor H. T. was dying,
sufficiently proves. I remember with satisfaction that I
saw her, and shook hands with her at the November ball.
Indeed she had a heart ; and I can t help recollecting that
when I had the scarlet fever she called on me every day,
regardless of danger, and sat at the foot of my bed. Besides,
she was the friend of twenty years, and the companion of my
childhood, and I feel the older I grow, the more tenderly I
cling to the scenes, and recollections, and companions, of
my early hours. When I now look at Mr. Bruckner s black
cap, my memory gets astride on the tassel of it, and off she
gallops at a very pleasant rate ; wooden desks, green bags,
74 MEMORIALS OF THE
blotted books, inked hands, faces, and gowns, rise in array
before me. I see Mrs. Beecroft (Miss Dixon I should say)
with her plump good-humoured face, laughing till she loses
her eyes, and shakes the whole form ; but I must own, the
most welcome objects that the hoofs of memory s hobby-horse
kick up, are the great B. s, or bons, on my exercises ! I do
not choose to remember how often I was marked for being
idle. * * So you have had riots. I am glad they are
over. Mrs. Adair called on me this morning, and she tells
me that Charles Harvey was terribly alarmed after he had
committed Col. Montgomery. A fine idea this gives one of
the state of a town, where a man is alarmed at having done
his duty !
I am very much afraid my spouse will not live long; he
has gotten a fit of tidyness on him ; and yesterday evening
and this evening, he has employed himself in putting his
painting-room to rights. This confirms what I said to him
the other day ; that almost every man was beau and sloven,
at some time of his life. Charles Fox once wore pink heels ;
now he has an unpowdered crop. And I expect that as my
husband has been a sloven hitherto, he will be a beau in
future; for he is so pleased with his handy works, and capers
about, and says, " look there ! how neat ! and how prettily I
have disposed the things! Did you ever see the like?"
Certainly I never did, where he was, before. Oh ! he will
certainly be a beau in time. Past ten o clock ! I must now
say farewell; but let me own that I missed you terribly
when I was ill. I have no female friend and neighbour; and
men are not the thing on such occasions. Besides, you, on
all occasions, would be the female neighbour I should choose.
Love to your spouse. Write soon, and God bless you.
In the autumn of 1800 she again visited Norwich,
accompanied by her husband ; and on this occasion
Mr. Opie painted the portrait of Dr. Sayers, an
engraving from which is prefixed to the Life of that
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 75
gentleman by Mr. W. Taylor ; who says, u Dr. Sayers
conversed much with Mr. O. on art, and listened to
his native strength of talent and originality of
judgment, and has happily applied to him a Greek
distich in his Essay on Beauty."
Mr. Opie seems to have returned to London after
completing this picture, leaving his wife to spend
some longer period with her father. His patience,
however, became exhausted before she felt disposed
to return to him, and he remonstrated with her in a
half lover-like strain of complaint.
My dearest life, (he writes,) I cannot be sorry that you do
not stay longer; though, as I said, on your father s account, I
would consent to it. Pray love forgive me, and make
yourself easy, for I did not suspect, till my last letter was
gone, that it might be too strong ; I had been counting
almost the hours till your arrival for some time, and have been
unwell and unable to sleep these last three weeks, so that I
could not make up my mind to the disappointment. As to
coming down again, I cannot think of it ; for though I could,
perhaps, better spare the time at present from painting, than
I could at any part of last month, I find I must now go hard
to work to finish my lectures, as the law says they must be
delivered the second year after the election, and though they
have never acted on this law, yet there are many, perhaps,
who would be glad to put it in force in the present instance.
I had almost given way to the suggestions of idleness, and
determined to put them off till another year ; but since I
have been acquainted with the above-mentioned regulation,
I have shut myself up in the evenings, and, I doubt not,
shall be ready with three or four of them at least. We had
a thin general meeting on Monday last, arid elected Calcot
an associate of the R.A. Lawrence and Hoppner attended.
Thompson was also there, and we were very sociable; but
76 MEMORIALS OF THE
he has not called, nor was there any notice taken, on either
side, of our long separation. Pray, love, be easy, and as (I
suppose) you will not stay ; come up as soon as possible, for I
long to see you as much as ever I did in my life.
A very short time elapsed after her return before
we find her writing again to Mrs. Taylor.
12th December, 1800.
Are you not very much obliged
to me, my dear friend ? I am good for nothing to-day, so I
am going to write to you ! But one ventures to show one s
person in dishabille at a friend s fireside, and why not one s
mind ? and so I m resolved, though my mind is not just now
smart enough for Parnassus, to exhibit it at St. George s.
Here s weather ! But you Norwich people can t, even from
recollection, I think, conceive half the horror of a London
fog. At present my husband s mind is more affected by it
than my health (for it is a terrible time for a painter). I
hope I shall not suffer this winter as I did last ; on the
contrary, I continue to grow fat, and have an excellent
appetite for everything but breakfast ; and alas ! I still " sigh
and lament me in vain" for Mrs. Lessy s hot half-baked
cakes. Fye upon her ! she has made me so dainty. My
visit to Harleston was a very satisfactory one ; it seemed the
burial of unpleasant feelings, and the resurrection of amiable
ones. I left Eliza Merrick a plump image of health and
content, and I found Betsey Fry yester-evening at her own
house a lean image of the same. How women vary ! I ana
surprised to see the leanness of the one, and the fatness of
the other; formerly the lean one was fat, and now the fat
one is lean ; but now she is so very comfortably settled, no
doubt she will soon grow fat again. In all Quaker houses
there is a most comfortable appearance of neatness, comfort,
and affluence. Betsey Fry is settled down with everything
requisite to domestic happiness. Mr. Fry pleases ine very
much.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 77
Richard and I have frequent meetings now. On Sunday
he is to breakfast with me, squire me to the Catholic chapel
in King Street, where French Bishops (and sometimes the
Archbishop of Narbonne) officiate, and then eat his beef
with us.
To-morrow, if Anne Plumptre returns, I shall go with her
into the pit of Drury lane to see a new tragedy, the author
nameless to me, (though known to others I find,) and so I
wish him to continue ; for I should like to form of the piece,
for the first time in my life, an unprejudiced judgment.
Mrs. Siddons, indeed, told me not to go, because the play
was stupid ; but I have since recollected, to counteract her
influence, that Kemble says she knows nothing about a play.
So I flatter myself I am still unprejudiced.
I shall have left Norwich a month only next Sunday, and
it seems to me three, at least, so much have I done and seen
since my return. Mr. Opie, too, has been constantly
employed. The T.s will be here in a month ; that is a great
joy to me. I purposely avoid saying anything of my evening
at Mrs. Siddons on Tuesday evening last, as I expect to fill
my letter to my father with it to-morrow.
I am uneasy about Mr. Opie s mother. She has again
taken to her bed ; and I fear the long struggle she had with
death last winter, though she overcame him, will have
weakened her too much to make it possible for her to endure
another and I did so ardently wish to see her I A com
mittee of Academicians is to meet every Saturday till means
are found to execute Mr. Opie s plan for a Naval Pantheon ;
and this looks well. Just room for love to your circle, and
my name,
A. OPIE.
The fear expressed in this letter was, happily, not
realized ; Mr. Opie s mother survived till the spring
of 1805, when she died at the advanced age of
ninety-two. To this parent he was most tenderly
78 MEMORIALS OF THE
attached, and neither time nor the pressure of business,
diminished his filial devotion to her. He delighted
to dwell upon her early tenderness, her careful at
tention to his childish wants, and the encouragement
which she afforded to his first attempts in the art he
loved ; his eye would glisten and his face kindle with
affection when he spoke of her ; and no sooner was it
in his power to assist her, than he rejoiced in affording
her the means of comfort and independence.
How cordially could his wife sympathize with him
in this fervent attachment ; she, who was, throughout
life, so sensitively alive to the claims of relationship,
even in the remotest degrees, and whose whole being
was devoted with tenderest love to her parents while
living, and to their memory when dead ! She appears
to have been permitted the gratification of her wish
to see her husband s mother, and " I believe (she says)
that scarcely any one who knew her would have
thought this description of her an exaggerated one,"
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 79
CHAPTER VI.
"THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER;" CRITIQUE IN THE EDINBURGH;
THREE LETTERS TO MRS. TAYLOR; VOLUME OP " POEMS ;" " GO,
YOUTH BELOVED;" LETTER FROM SIR j. MACKINTOSH; s. SMITH S
LECTURE.
IN the year 1801, Mrs. Opie gave to the world the
"Father and Daughter;" her first acknowledged
publication. She had, before her marriage, published
an anonymous novel, entitled " the Dangers of
Coquetry," which does not appear to have attracted
any attention. It will presently be seen that she
refers to it in a letter to Mrs. Taylor, and it is included
in the list of her works given in Watt s Bibliotheca
Britannica, although without date, and placed in
order after her earlier publications. The " Father
and Daughter," in the first edition, was accompanied
by a poem called " The Maid of Corinth," and some
smaller pieces. It is unnecessary to do more than
remind the reader of the warmth of approval with
which this tale was received by the public.* In the
preface to it Mrs. Opie modestly confesses her
diffidence in appearing as an avowed author at the
bar of public opinion, and disclaiming for her little
book the ambitious title of a novel, says, " Its highest
pretensions are to be a simple moral tale."
* It was afterwards taken as the groundwork for one of the most
popular Italian operas of the time, the " Agnese" of Paer.
80 MEMORIALS OF THE
In the first volume of " The Edinburgh," there is a
review of her poems.* in which the writer thus
criticises the " Father and Daughter."
* * * "Mrs. Opie s mind is evidently more adapted
to seize situation than to combine incidents. It can repre
sent, with powerful expression, the solitary portrait, in every
attitude of gentler grief; but it cannot bring together a
connected assemblage of figures, and represent each in its
most striking situation, so as to give, as it were, to the glance
of a moment, the feelings and events of many years. When
a series of reflections is to be brought by her to our view,
they must all be of that immediate relation which allows
them to be introduced at any part of the poem ; or we shall
probably see before us a multitude, rather than a group.
* * * * She has, indeed, written a novel ; and it is one
which excites a very high interest : but the merit of that
novel does not consist in its action, nor in any varied exhi
bition of character. Agnes, in all the sad changes of fortune,
is still the same ; and the action, if we except a very few
situations of the highest excitement, is the common history of
every seduction in romance. Indeed, we are almost tempted
to believe that the scene in the wood occurred first to the
casual conception of the author; and that, in the design of
fully displaying it, all the other events of "the novel were
afterwards imagined."
The three following letters to Mrs. Taylor admit us
behind the scenes, and allow us to see the palpitations
of her heart.
Sunday Evening, 1801.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
The only paper I can find consists of two half
sheets, comme vous voyez. But no matter. I will not, for
appearance sake, baulk my inclination to write to you.
* Written by Dr. Brown.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 81
I am very sorry that Mrs. Jordan and the Duke of
Clarence have hitherto managed their matters so ill, as
always to disappoint you ; but the lady is now about again,
though, from pecuniary disputes with the manager, probably,
she is, as yet, invisible to the public. However, by the time
you come, I hope she will be on the boards again. I believe
you were very right in what you said to me, about the good
arising from my having delayed publishing my juvenile
pieces ; but some of those things which have now gained me
reputation are juvenile pieces, written years ago ; however,
I am contented that I have, till now, lived unconscious of
the anxieties of an author. I wish I were launched ! As
usual, all the good I saw in my work, before it was printed, is
now vanished from my sight, and I remember only its faults.
All the authors, of both sexes, and artists too, that are not
too ignorant or full of conceit to be capable of alarm, tell me
they have had the same feeling when about to receive
judgment from the public. Besides, whatever I read appears
to me so superior to my own productions, that I am in a state
of most unenviable humility. Mr. Opie has no patience
with me; but he consoles me by averring that fear makes
me overrate others, and underrate myself. Be so good as to
tell my father that, as a subscriber to Dyer s book, he has
half a guinea to pay for the volume I have received for him,
and when the o4her two volumes are done, he will have to
pay half a guinea more ! Poor man ; but tell him, as some
little consolation, that there are three pretty stanzas addressed
to me in the first volume, the old verses lengthened and
improved, but they are " To a Lady," not to Mrs. Opie.
Viganoni was with me from twelve to three to-day, alter
nately singing with me and talking; he has, with all his
genius, a great deal of what the French call bonhommie,
which makes him talkative and confiding, when he is with
those he thinks his friends. I was pleased, for his sake, to
hear him say he should sing only two or three years longer,
as he had saved money enough to live quite at his ease in
his native country. He says music is now so cultivated and
82 MEMORIALS OP THE
courted in England, that it is at its height, and must soon
fall " en decadence;" but he thinks the present taste a vicious
one. "Le monde Anglais? he says, "like nothing equal to
bravura singing," which he thinks no singing at all, and
which never goes to the heart like simple sentimental sing
ing. Indeed he never puts in a grace, but what tends to
illustrate the sentiment of the words, and the style of the
air ; his singing is conversation, put into sweet sounds. My
plaudit is of no weight, perhaps; but Viganoni has, unrivalled,
that of all the oldest, most experienced, and able professors
of music men who unite theory with practice, and are the
only good judges, from having, from their situations, an
opportunity of comparing singers and styles men who
have learnt to hear, an art, nothing but hearing constantly
the first music and performers, can teach. I long to hear
Mara again. V. says she sings better than ever, though her
voice is on the wane. How strange it is that Bante retains
her unequalled voice, though she gets drunk every day.
This extraordinary creature can t even write her name, and
knows not a note of music. V. is sometimes forced to
pinch her to keep her in time, and make her leave off her
vile shake, or rather no shake, at the proper point. A
gentleman declared to me he saw this ; but I did not believe
it, till I asked V., who told me it was true. Adieu ! Love
to all.
1801.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I began a letter to you full a fortnight ago,
but I know not what is become of the precious scrawl ; it is
"wasting its sweetness on the desert air," somewhere or
other, so I must begin a new one. All I remember of it is,
that it began with very sensible reproaches for your having
thought it necessary and becoming in you to thank me for
what you were pleased to call kindnesses, from me, to you and
yours; as if such words and such ceremonies were proper
between you and me, and as if, in showing attention to you
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 83
and Richard, I did not do myself honour by proving the
sense I entertain of superior merit. Tol de rol lol !
So you are coming to the great city ! but let me advise
you to come in mourning, for there seems to be a rot
amongst royalty, and one court mourning succeeds to
another; the present one will scarcely be over before you
arrive. One of our great grandmothers is dead, but which I
do not know. I shall have a great deal to tell you about
new people and new characters when I see you, which a
letter could neither contain nor do justice to. It is a world
to see ! I dearly love to get a peep at it now and then ; and
what I do see of it only serves to endear the safety and
quiet of my own home. You will be up just time enough
for one of my pleasantest parties, and I expect you and I
shall be two merry wives when we get together again.
You will see the exhibition too ; and I hope que vous y
verrez briller inon Mari.
I am glad on reperusing " The Dangers of Coquetry,"
that you think so highly of it. I read it at Seething soon
after I married, and felt a great respect for it ; and if I ever
write a collection of tales, I shall correct and re-publish that,
as / originally wrote it, not as it now is, in the shape of a
novel, in chapters. I believe I told you that Mr. Hoare was
so struck with it, as to intend writing a play from it. I wish
he would. Heigho, I am very stupid to-night, so my ideas
do not come coulamment; so for want of something better to
say, I will tell you a characteristic anecdote of Mr. North-
cote. Mr. Opie, and he, and Sir Francis Bourgeois (the
landscape painter) dined at Sir William Elford s the other
day, and met there a Colonel Elford. After dinner some
disputatious conversation took place, in which my husband
and Mr. N. took a principal part; after some time, the
Colonel said, in a low voice to Sir Francis, " Painters are
queer fellows ; how oddly they converse. One knows not
what to make of them ; how oddly these men run on ! "
Sir Francis assented, and consoled himself as well as he
could, for being so little eminent as not to be known to be a
G 2
84 MEMORIALS OP THE
painter himself. After tea, he took an opportunity of telling
this story to Northcote ; who, starting back with a face of
horror, exclaimed, " Gude G ! then he took you for a
gentleman ! " I dare say he did not sleep that mght. My
husband says very truly and admirably of this queer little
being, that his mind resembles an old family mansion, in
which some of the apartments are furnished and in good
repair, while the major part are empty or full of rubbish.
* * * (Enter Mr. Northcote!) (Sunday.) I have nothing
to tell you in consequence of the little man s visit, except a
fresh proof of the care he takes of his little health. I had
some cheese toasted and brought up. " Gude G ! how
unwholesome, one piece if you please, and no more." Pre
sently after, he says, "Bless me, Mrs. Opie! eating still?
how much have you ventured to eat ? " " Two pieces."
" Oh, then so will I, I ll venture to eat two pieces too." As
a proof of his politeness, I will tell you that on my saying
Sir Roger L Estrange was a Norfolk man, he exclaimed,
"A Norfolk man! could anything good or great come out
of Norfolk?"
I am told my father certainly means to visit us this spring,
but I am resolved not to expect him, as I was so disappointed
last year. I am sorry you will come up too late for the
Oratorios. I am going to day to carry Mrs. Inchbald my
book to read. She has promised me her opinion of it ; and
I long to receive it. She is a judge of the tale only ; poetry
is to her an undiscovered country. The ballads she already
admires very highly. As this letter will not go till to
morrow, I shall leave it open. (Sunday eve.) I had written
thus far, when your kind letter came. I repeat my advice
to you to come in a black muslin ; a white gown and black
ribbons, or even a coloured gown, will do occasionally in a
morning, to spare the other, and then you will always be
either dressed or undressed ; for black suits all companies ;
black stockings and a black petticoat you would find so
useful too. All black continues fashionable, and is econo
mical too. I am very glad you like my tale. The Hoares
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 85
called to-day, and expressed themselves much pleased and
affected by it, Mr. H. could not sleep all night after it, it
made him so wretched. You will undoubtedly see both
Coome and Mrs. Jordan. Adieu, just room to send kind
love. Yours, &c,,
A. O.
Monday, 1801.
* * * I did not expect, my dear friend, that my
asking one favour of you should procure me two ; viz., fowls
for Yiganoni, and a letter for myself; but I like to take all
heaven sends and the more the better. Your question
to me " what is this indescribable charm which attends
the overflowings of one mind into another when it finds
itself understood ?" I can t answer; though, as you observe,
the enjoyment is known to me. But this pleasure is not
confined to the contemplation of well assorted minds ; in
everything we delight to see things^, as we call it ; even a
scissors-sheath delights us when, on buying it, we find it sits
flush a the phrase is. No wonder then that, when mind
fits mind, the pleasure should be so great. Yes ! as you say?
July is coming ; and I am coming, but late in July I doubt.
I have not made out the author of the anonymous letter I
wish T had ; yet, there I lie ; mountains look largest and most
sublime when they are shrouded partly in mist. The
" British Critic" is something awful; but what is Parson
Beloe? Pray tell my father that 750 are to be printed of
the Tale ; it will be time epough to settle the number of the
other volume when it is ready for the press. At present I
am so incapable of writing !
I have been giving myself a great deal of trouble to-day,
and I doubt at last I shall be disappointed. Viganoni, with
great readiness and great humility, granted my request that
he would set the little song I wrote the other day ; but to
enable him to do this, I have just written it out, leaving
a space between each line wide enough for him to write the
cadence of the words, as if they were Italian, underneath ;
then at the bottom, in French prose, I have translated the
86 MEMORIALS OF THE
song, that he may comprehend the sentiment; and I have
also written it again with a literal translation of each word
by a French one under it, regardless of French construction,
that he may catch the proper emphasis ; thus :
New friends, new hopes, new joys, to find
De nouveaux amis, de nouvelles esperances, de nouveaux plaisirs, a trouver.
And, after all, if he should not do it well ! he says he will do
son possible, but I have my fears ; if he succeeds I shall be so
pleased ! * * What a labour it is to laugh for a continuance J
I am quite sore to-day with immoderate laughter yesterday !
I was irritable, and then anything sets me off. Not but
what my uncle and aunt, at whose house 1 dined, and
Mr. Biggs who dined there also, were very agreeable ; but
had I been quite well, and my husband not gone to Chath?m ?
I should not have been so noisy. Yet I declare I laugh now
at some of the fun. I expect my husband home in half an
hour. He went to please me, and after he was gone I
repented of my persuading him to go, but I thought the air
and exercise would do him good. Do not laugh, but though
only two days absent, the house seems so strange without its
master, that I have learned to excuse, nay to commend,
women for marrying again ! How dreadfully forlorn must
be the situation of a widow ! I think I shall write an
essay recommending second marriages, and dedicate it to
Mrs. Merrick. Well. God bless you ! I think I have written
nonsense enough. Love to your spouse and bairns ; and
believe me, ever yours,
A. OPIE.
" The other Volume" was the " Poems," which
appeared early in 1802, and for a critique upon which
we must again refer the reader to the article in the
Edinburgh Review for October, 1802. After some
rather severe criticism of her deficiencies and faults, the
writer observes, "It is in the smaller verse of eight
syllables, which requires no pomp of sound, and in
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 87
the simple tenderness, or simple grief, to which the
artlessness of such numbers is best suited, the power
of Mrs. O. s poetry consists. * * * The verses of
feeling, on which she must rely for the establishment
of her fame, are certainly among the best in our
opuscular poetry. As a specimen we select the
following song, which is scarcely surpassed by any in
our language :
Go, youth beloved, in distant glades,
New friends, new hopes, new joys to find !
Yet sometimes deign, midst fairer maids,
To think on her thou leav st behind.
Thy bve, th fate, dear youth, to share,
Must never be my happy lot ;
But thou may st grant this humble prayer
Forget me not ! forget me not !
Yet should the thought of my distress
Too painful to thy feelings be,
Heed not the wish I now express,
Nor ever deign to think of me !
But oh ! if grief thy steps attend,
If want, if sickness be thy lot,
And thou require a soothing friend,
Forget me not ! forget me not !
Sir James Mackintosh, in a letter written to
Mr. Sharpe, from India, refers to these lines in the
following manner : " Tell the fair Opie that if she
would address such pretty verses to me as she did to
Ashburner, I think she might almost bring me back
from Bombay, though she could not prevent his going
thither. I beg that she will have the goodness to
convey Lady M. s kindest compliments and mine,
to her friend Madame Roland, of Norwich." (By
88 MEMORIALS OF THE
this playful epithet Mrs. Taylor was designated, in
consequence of a fancied resemblance to her portrait.)
It was probably, the delivery of this message which
produced the impromptu by Mrs. Opie, on being
asked if she had written verses on the absence of Sir
James Mackintosh, in India :
No ! think not in verse
I his absence deplore :
Who a sorrow can sing
Till that sorrow is o er ?
And when shall his loss
With such sorrow be classed?
Oh ! when shall his absence
Be pain that
Sir James acknowledged the compliment thus paid
him by the following letter, dated,
Bombay, 30th September, 1805.
MY DEAR MRS. OPIE,
Many thanks for all your late presents, your
good cousin, your most affecting novel, and your elegant
verses. Your cousin will do well, and return to you, I hope,
in a few years, with a reasonable fortune, and an unbroken
constitution. At present I think he looks fresher than I
ever saw him in Norfolk. Of Adeline, I cannot speak with
quite so much unmixed complacency ; she has occasioned
many painful moments, and even cost us some tears. The
versos I am sure I should admire, even if they had not
bribed me to do so. The first four lines in particular are so
ingenious and so natural, so lively and so easy, that they
resemble the light poetry of the French, in which they so
much surpass all nations. Standing by themselves, they
would make an admirable impromptu answer to the question
which is the subject. Perhaps you will allow me to prove
the sincerity of this praise, by adding that the remaining
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 89
lines though excellent, are not perhaps of quite so high a
cast as the first four. I have some thought of publishing
these four in our Bombay Paper, in the form of which I have
spoken ; if I do, I bespeak pardon by anticipation.
The character of the Hindu is, in your songs, and in most
European descriptions, beautiful and poetical; but on near
approach it is base and odious enough. Their fine forms and
graceful attitudes might indeed furnish subjects for Mr.
Opie s pencil, but their minds will seldom be worthy of your
verse or your prose. I agree with you about the commence
ment of the third volume of Godwin s novel. It is most
masterly. There are other admirable parts; but, taken
throughout, I think it the worst of his three ; though far
indeed above the limits of a vulgar fate. So unlettered and
incurious is this place, that the copy of Fleetwood which
came here, was suffered to lie on the shop counter with all
the common trash of the Minerva press, undistinguished by
our novel readers, to whom Godwin has no name ; and might
have so remained till it was devoured by the white ants, if I
had not heard of it by chance, and eagerly snatched it from
these animals, or from others of nobler shape, but not much
nobler nature. I need scarcely say that no hostility was
mixed with my eagerness ; on the contrary, I expected, and
I found great pleasure. I hope you are in love with Walter
Scott s "Lay of the Last Minstrel." Nowhere else, but
in "Warwick Castle," are antique character and dignity
reconciled with modern elegance and regularity. It has
many charming passages, and the narrative is full of warlike
and Homeric spirit ; if the poem be sometimes tedious, so is
Homer himself, the prince of ballad makers, and of border
minstrels. I presume that you have read Madame de Genlis
"Duchesse de la Yaliere;" which, though not precisely a
novel, is surely a most fascinating work. Have you ventured
on the Abbe Delille s translation of "Paradise Lost?" I
presume it is a capital crime to praise it in England ; and
perhaps the importation of it may be prohibited ; I see it is
most profusely panegyrized in the Moniteur, and the only
90 MEMORIALS OF THE
fault in the opinion of the French critics, is that the Trans
lator has not altered Milton sufficiently. How would this
sound on the banks of my beloved Thames? It would be
blasphemy in England, and would be very bad taste any
where, not to mention its glaring inconsistency with the first
idea of translation. The bearer of this letter is Mrs. Stewart,
a very amiable, and rather unfortunate woman, who brought
here beauty and understanding fit for happier spots, and who
is now going to England in search of long-lost health ; any
attention that you may have the goodness to show her,
Lady M. and I shall consider as a great favour to us. I am
confident, that when your own ingenious delicacy has gently
dispelled the clouds that dejection and retirement have
spread around her, you will see in herself sufficient motives
for kindness to her.
I am, my Dear Madam,
Truly and faithfully yours,
JAMES MACKINTOSH.
A triple crown was to be awarded to this song
" Go, youth beloved." It was selected by the Rev.
Sydney Smith, in one of his " Lectures on Moral
Philosophy," delivered at the Royal Institution in
1804-5, as possessing peculiar excellence in its
style ; he says, " If any man were to discover the true
language of nature and feeling in this little poem of
Mrs. Opie s, he would gain no credit for his meta
phorical taste, because the beauties of it are too
striking for a moment s hesitation."
The authoress was present at the time when Mr.
Smith pronounced this eulogium upon her verses ;
and she used laughingly to tell how unexpectedly
the compliment came upon her, and how she shrunk
down upon her seat, in order to screen herself from
the observation of those around her.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 91
CHAPTER VII.
THE TEIALS OF GENIUS ; DOMESTIC TROUBLES } LETTEES TO MRS.
TAYLOR; JOURNEY TO FRANCE; ARRIYAL AT PARIS; THE LOUVRE;
THE FIRST CONSUL; CHARLES JAMES FOX; THE SOIREE; KOSCIUSKO.
WE have seen how diligently Mrs. Opie laboured
during the year 1801, and with what success her
efforts had been crowned. Yet this was the severest
season of domestic anxiety and trouble, she was, as a
wife, destined to experience. She tells us, in her
Memoir of her husband, that although he had a
picture in the Exhibition of 1801, which was univer
sally admired, and purchased as soon as beheld, yet
"he saw himself at the end of that year, and the
beginning of the next, almost wholly without employ
ment ; and even my sanguine temper yielding to the
trial, I began to fear that, small as our expenditure
was, it must become still smaller. Not that I allowed
myself to own that I desponded; on the contrary, I
was forced to talk to him of hopes, and to bid him
look forward to brighter prospects, as his temper,
naturally desponding, required all the support possible.
But gloomy and painful indeed were those three
alarming months, and I consider them as the severest
trial that I experienced during my married life.
However, this despondency did not make him indolent ;
92 MEMORIALS OF THE
he continued to paint regularly as usual ; and no
doubt by that means increased his ability to do justice
to the torrent of business which soon after set in
towards him, and never ceased to flow till the day of
his death."
There is something very touching in these few and
simple words. The earnest hopeful nature of the
wife supporting the desponding spirits of her gifted
husband. Like all men of true genius, he was sub
ject to dark shadows and melancholy breedings. He
aspired high, studied much, laboured hard, and was
too painfully alive to his deficiencies; ever to rest
satisfied with the point to which he had attained ; the
voice within cried ever, "higher!" and he must run
until he fell. " During the nine years that I was his
wife, (she continues,) I never saw him satisfied with
any one of his productions, and often, very often,
have I seen him enter my sitting room, and throwing
himself in an agony of despondence on the sofa,
exclaim, I never, never shall be a painter, as long as
I live! "
Happily for women they have, in the little domestic
cares of every day life, a source of employment and
interest, which, compelling their attention, diverts
their thoughts into wholesome channels, and saves
them from uselessly brooding over evils they cannot
avert. The domestic menage of the painter s house
hold had to be governed, its mistress tells us, with a
strict and watchful economy, and an observant eye
must be kept upon all that went on there. But this
was not all ; as a mistress, the conduct of her servants
appears to have occasioned her no small trouble, and to
her faithful confidante she reveals her anxieties on more
LIFE OP AMELIA OPIE. 93
than one occasion ; from two of these letters we find
that she learned by experience, what she afterwards
described with her pen ; the first letter seems almost
a comment upon one of her tales on u Lying," or
rather to have furnished the text for it. Both must
have been written early in the year 1802, as in the
month of August following, the journey to Paris
took place.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
Your most kind and gratifying letter, so
wholly undeserved on my part, and (considering your many
avocations) so generous on yours, demanded an earlier
acknowledgment ; but it is one of the charms of our intimacy
that it is proof against neglects like mine. I know you will
not cease to love me, nor think that I have ceased to love
you, though even months pass without my assuring you of
my unaltered regard. But at last I sit down to write to you,
and you might suppose I take up my pen conscience-urged ;
no such matter; I write to crave your advice on a subject
that weighs heavy on my mind, and one on which at present
I cannot consult my husband ; a difficult affair to act properly
in, as I want to reconcile pity and justice. You must know,
that, after having for some time past had some reason to
suspect the strict honesty, in trifles, of my maid Anne, I had,
last Friday, the mournful certainty of detecting her in a
course of most flagrant iniquity ; and what is worse, when I
brought my charge against her, she was most firm in denial,
and accused me of the grossest cruelty and injustice in
accusing her ; while a series of ready lies, abounding in con
tradictions, which left no doubt of her guilt on my mind,
sunk her still lower in my opinion. I was easily prevailed
on to keep the affair a secret from my husband for a short
time, in order to avoid an eclat } which would blast the poor
wretch s character for ever ; yet how, my dear friend, can I
any way act as I ought, without doing this ? Her cry is,
94 MEMORIALS OF THE
"give me a character for God s sake !" but how can I ? Even
if I keep her till August, can I then, however correct her
future conduct, say "yes" to an enquiry concerning her
honesty ? If she had a heart, (but I am certain she has not,)
I would keep her and conceal her fault, (for while reputation
is safe, there is hope of amendment,) but of her I have no
hope. Now, my dear friend, tell me how lean stand between
her and the punishment of her guilt, with honour and justice
to myself? A young maid-servant turned out, without the
chance of a character, is in so exposed and desperate a
situation, that I shudder to think of the consequences, and,
as my too great confidence and my carelessness may have laid
temptation in her way, I feel a degree of responsibility for
her faults, which distresses me exceedingly.
I really should feel it incumbent on me to make an apology
for worrying your brains with my domestic concerns, did I
not know it is the honest pride of your life to be useful, and
that you are always glad of an opportunity of serving me.
The string that pulls me towards Norwich begins to grow
tight. To Cornwall, or even to France, we cannot afford to
go ; at least so Mr. Opie thinks ; and that is the same thing.
My next letter (and I shall certainly answer your answer)
shall contain more amusing stuff. At present I have only
time to say, Kemble was arrested for a debt, kindness had
made him incur, (for -200,) as he came out of the theatre on
Saturday last. He is not yet in limbo, but to jail he is
resolved to go on Wednesday, unless Mr. Sheridan pays the
money ; and never will he play again, till it is paid. Sheridan
swears and protests that he will pay the debt, and that he
knew not of the transaction ; whereas, it is certain Sheridan
went to the bailiff, and for fear of a riot, prevailed on him to
put off the arrest till the play was over. We think Sheridan
dares not let him go to jail, and go he will. Adieu ! anxiously
hoping to hear from you,
I remain,
Yours most affectionately,
A. OPIE.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 5
How well this letter illustrates some of her most
strongly marked characteristics ! that earnest desire
" to reconcile pity with justice ;" that readiness to
take to herself any blame she might possibly have
incurred, as an extenuation of the fault of another,
and the lingering hope that the delinquent might be
reclaimed. These are traits which those who knew
her well will recognize as her very own.
Here is her promised answer to Mrs. T.
Tuesday, 1802.
MY DEAR FKIEND,
As opening and detaining letters to and from
active partizans is the order of the day, and as the enclosed
contains numbers, I write to you instead of my father, and
shall get my letter directed for me. Franks are now of no
use, as even Peers can t frank, being no longer Lords of
parliament; therefore, were they sacred to these licensed
rogues, the one I have for to-morrow is good for nothing.
Indefatigable, alias your cousin Peter, whom I saw just now
at Mr. Smith s, desired me to send Lord C. s letter ; so I obey.
Be so good also, as to tell my father that his letter, franked
by Mr. Smith, did not reach till Saturday ; and tell him I
wrote to him yesterday, enclosing the peer s first letter.
Your kind answer to my statement of vexation gave me
the greatest satisfaction, and I hope by your excellent advice
and assistance to be able, with a very little trouble, to put
such a degree of order in my subsequent menage as shall
prevent, in future, any gross imposition. Anne s conduct
since the detection, and what I have heard of it previously to
it, takes from me all idea of my carelessness having led her
into temptation. I believe her to be thoroughly bad.
Yesterday evening, at half-past five, we saw the balloon,
from the painting-room window, distinctly. Suddenly it was
lost in a cloud, and the feeling it gave me was a very strange
one. Soon after it emerged again, considerably higher than
96 MEMORIALS OF THE
it was before ; then it entered another cloud and disappeared.
It is past two, and Mr. Garnerin is not returned, but I
have been to the Pantheon to inquire concerning him, and I
find he landed at Colchester in an hour and forty minutes !
Of election matters what can I say ? Till I read the
squibs, &c. I could not, con amore, say, I wished Mr. Windham.
to be ousted ; but now indignation has assisted principle to
conquer feeling, and I will not say of the agreeable delinquent,
"If to his share some manly errors fall
Hear him converse, and you ll forget them all,"
or, " Look in his eyes, and you ll forget them all,"
(which you please, Mrs. Taylor.) I was to have gone to
Mr. Hiliar s on Sunday or Monday ; but, if the election is to
be on Monday, I can t leave town to be out of the way of the
news on Tuesday, especially as I should not meet with
sympathy in my feelings there. Adieu I I must go to see
again whether Garnerin is returned. I wonder when your
travellers come back.
Believe me, ever most affectionately yours,
A. O.
P. S. I want to come down to the election ball. What
a shock poor Garnham s death was to me !
In the autumn of this year her long cherished
desire to visit France, and more especially Paris, was
gratified.* Her husband needed relaxation after the
* Mrs. Opie published an account of this journey in Tait s
Magazine, vol. iv., 1831. From this account we have extracted
several of the most interesting passages. She says, in a few
prefatory remarks, that it had originally been her intention to give
an account of her visit to Paris in 1829, but that, while endeavouring
to do this, so many recollections of her first journey recurred to her
mind, that she was induced to alter her purpose, and prefer relating
the events of the earlier visit. Probably in doing this she made use
of the original letters which she is known to have written home to
Dr. Alderson at the time ; and having done so, no longer preserved
them.
LIFE OF AMELIA OP1E. 97
anxiety and labour of the last few months, and there
was now an unexpected opportunity afforded to the
painter to study those glorious chefs d ceuvre of art
which the conquering arms of Napoleon had assembled
at the Louvre.
They were joined in this excursion by a party of
friends, of whom Mrs. Opie mentions Samuel Favell,
Esq. and Mrs. Favell, and her early acquaintance,
Miss Anne Plumptre. On the 14th of August, 1802,
they reached Calais, and for the first time she
experienced " the strangely interesting moment when
one s foot first touches a foreign land, and when one
hears on every side a foreign language spoken by men,
women, and children." The first impression seems to
have been one of bewilderment, for which she was
not at all prepared, occasioned by the confusion of
voices that greeted them. Having recovered from
this perplexing sensation, she was agreeably surprised
to see a well known face, that of Le Texier ; he who
for many years delighted the English public by his
admirable French readings. The recognition was
mutual, and she was welcomed by him to the land of
his birth.
An amusing adventure befell our inexperienced
traveller, as she seated herself at the Hotel de
Grandsire, to enjoy the delicious fare of the excellent
table d hote, and be initiated at once into the mode of
a French dinner, " so contrary to our own ;"
Opposite to me (she says) sat a gentleman, wearing what
I conceived to be a foreign order ; and as he was very alert
in rendering me the customary table-attentions, I ventured
to address him in French, but he did not reply. I therefore
98 MEMORIALS OF THE
concluded that he was of some nation in which French was
not very generally spoken ; and so far I was not very wrong
in my conjecture, as my opposite neighbour turned out to be
an English messenger, just arrived with dispatches from our
government ! and the order which gave him such distinction,
in my curious eyes, was nothing more than a silver greyhound,
which messengers then wore ! My mistake exposed me to
some good humoured banter; but, perhaps, it was well for
me that I made it, as it put me a little on my guard against
one of my infirmities, that of forming hasty conclusions. * *
The next morning the travellers started for Paris,
going a very long stage before breakfast,
The tediousness of which, (she says,) as the country had no
charms to boast, was in a degree relieved to me by the
occasional beauty and picturesqueness of the costume of the
peasants, both men and women; but the whiteness of the
caps and full sleeves, of even the young women, sometimes
formed an unpleasing contrast with their dark, sunburnt, and
almost parchment-looking complexions.
After many tedious delays on the road, occasioned
by the voiturier s " unreasonable care of his horses, as
he would not allow them to move after seven o clock,"
and various little events of small interest, they reached
Paris, and she thus describes her feelings on the
occasion :
At length we entered the suburbs of the metropolis, and
saw written in chalk on the walls on both sides, and in giant
letters, " L? Indivisibilite de la Republique ;" but all traces of
republicanism were so rapidly disappearing, that the word
without the second syllable would have described it better ;
namely, "invisibility." But to me every other consciousness
was soon absorbed in the joyful one of being at last in Paris,
that city which I had so long desired to see.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 99
Being advised to go to the Hotel of the "Rue des
Etrangers, they repaired thither, and were soon
installed in commodious apartments ; the street, then
the best in Paris, opening at one end, on the Place
de la Concorde, where " the perpetual guillotine"
stood, while at the other end was the Church de la
Madeleine.
By this time my restless curiosity was at its height, and I
was anticipating some days of great enjoyment, when my
husband, who had run off to the Louvre long before the rest
of us were ready, returned with a countenance of such vexa
tion and suffering, that I could not help asking him what
calamity had occurred ? " Calamity indeed ! " he replied, " the
Louvre is shut to-day, but then it will be open to-morrow,
so that it would not much signify ; but I cannot stay here
the whiteness of everything the houses the ground we
walk upon all dazzle and blind me ; and if I stay, I shall
lose my eyesight, and then I shall be a lost man." This was
uttered in such evident suffering, that for a few minutes I
was overwhelmed with consternation and disappointment. I
knew that go we must, if staying endangered my husband s
sight ; and I still recall, with exquisite pain, the trial of that
hour.
Happily they succeeded, by some means, in pro
curing admittance to the Louvre immediately, and
she says :
As the painter, while contemplating the wonders of the
museum, ceased to feel the inconvenience which the man had
thought unbearable, I had the joy of finding that we should
not quit Paris that day. * *
Why should I dwell on emotions which every one pro
bably has felt on entering the Louvre gallery ? My own
pleasure, my ignorant pleasure, was nothing to the more
H 2
100 MEMORIALS OF THE
scientific delight of my husband ; and I recall with melan
choly satisfaction, the enjoyment which he derived from this
visit to the French metropolis; an enjoyment purchased and
deserved by many years of the most assiduous labours in his
difficult profession ; and which, with the single exception of a
week spent in a visit to Flanders, a few years previously, was
the only relaxation to his well principled industry, in which
he ever allowed himself to indulge.
On the second day after her arrival in Paris, she
thus records an event which greatly delighted her.
I was in the Louvre gallery and standing alone before the
picture of the Deluge, by N. Poussin, (my favourite station,)
when I heard some one say that the First Consul was just
going to enter his carriage, on his way to the Conservative
Senate. (f Oh that I could but see him !" exclaimed I aloud,
and in French ; on which, one of the guardians of the gallery
said, " Eh bien ! mademoiselle, suwez moi et vous le verrez"
Without daring to lose a moment in order to seek for my
companions, I followed rapidly whither he led. He took me
through a door at the extreme end of the gallery, opening
into a room on the floor, and against the wall of which were
several unframed pictures. Another door led us into an
apartment, which looked immediately on the Place du
Carousel. Ladies were sitting at the window, who, at
my guide s request that they would make room for an
English stranger, kindly allowed me a seat beside them.
I arrived just in time to see the procession form. The
carriage of Buonaparte, drawn by eight bays, was already at
the palace gate, and was soon followed by that of the other
consuls, Cambaceres and Le Brun, drawn by six black
horses. Soon after, the corps cTelite, the body guard, and
the troop of Mamelucs, made their appearance ; and Rustan,
the favourite Mameluc of Napoleon, was also at his post,
awaiting his master. At length an increased noise at the
door announced that he was coming, and I gazed to an almost
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 101
painful degree of intensity, in order to catch one glimpse of
this extraordinary man; but he, sprang into his carriage with
such rapidity that not one of us could see., hiiu,4 J ,Jvustaii
quickly jumped up behind, and the procession went o,rwar.d.
It was, I own, a striking sight; but I did -riot think eq*i.al in
beauty and grandeur to the procession of our king to the
House of Lords, when he goes to open or prorogue the
Parliament.
Who knows what views of royal splendour to come, were,
even then, floating before the mind of Napoleon ! He was
going that morning to realize and enjoy the highest present
object of his "vaulting ambition." He was going, for the
first time, to open the Conservative Senate, as First Consul
for life. He had taken the first step on the path to despotic
power ; he had ascertained the extent of his own influence ;
he had succeeded in his endeavours to be voted a sort of
Dictator for life ; and he had proved that the self-denying
and noble example of Washington had been thrown away on
him. But even then, at this seeming height of his proud
career, I do not remember to have heard him greeted by a
single shout ; the evidences of a people s love did not hail his
presence ; and no eager and exulting crowd hung on his
carriage wheels ; and when I turned from the window, as the
cortege disappeared, I felt disappointed, not only because I
had not seen Buonaparte, but because there was no expression
heard of animating popular feeling.
Returning to join her party in the picture gallery
after this adventure, Mrs. Opie found there an object
of nearly equal interest to her ; the " loved and distin
guished patriot" of her own country, Charles James
Fox, who, with his wife and party, had arrived in
Paris the day before, from the Netherlands. Being
introduced by a mutual acquaintance, Mr. Opie took
the opportunity of presenting a letter of introduction
from Mr. Coke, of Holkham, and they were presently
102 MEMORIALS OF THE
engaged in conversation together. At this moment
an officer, of -the court came to announce to Mr. Fox
that lye tvould be admitted, at all times, into the
Louvre; adding that a room as yet closed to the public
and /containing some first-rate works of art, should be
immediately opened to him and his party. Availing
themselves of the courteous invitation given them to
accompany him, the party gladly followed in his train;
But my husband, (says the proud delighted wife,) walked
by his side; and as they walked along, the Jerome of Domeni-
chino drew their attention, and they stopped before it. On
some part of this celebrated picture they differed in opinion.
Mr. Fox, however, instead of replying to the artist s remarks,
with proud superciliousness, as if he wondered that he should
presume to disagree with him, said, " Well, to be sure, you
must be a better judge of such points than I am." And I saw
by my husband s pleased and animated countenance, as they
proceeded, (though I did not hear their subsequent remarks,)
that he felt conscious he was conversing with one, who was
capable of appreciating the soundness of his opinions, and
generous enough to respect his judgment.
Having reached the promised room, I found to my sur
prise, that it was the one into which I had already been,
and I was rather ashamed to see that I had passed, without
noticing it, the chef d ceuvre of Raphael, the far famed
Transfiguration ! When, however, raised up as it was by
the attendants, and placed to advantage, sideways to the
light of the window on the left, I, as well as the rest of the
party, stood before it, lost in admiration ! Some of its
admirers had seen it before, but to the painter to him who
was the most capable of appreciating all its various beauties,
it imparted a new and intense delight, beyond the power of
words to express. How he rejoiced that we had arrived
before it was hung up, as its present situation enabled him
to view it to perfection ! While we were still gazing on
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 103
this wonder of art, some one said the First Consul was
returning in state from the Conservative Senate, and that
the procession could be seen from the window near us.
Accordingly, all the company, myself excepted, crowded to
the window; but our greatest man, I own, turned away,
and resumed his station before the picture, while his wife
observed to me that, considering Buonaparte was a repub
lican, he seemed very fond of state and show. Again her
distinguished husband went to the window, and again turned
away. It was the first time he had ever seen aught apper
taining to the consular government, and it was natural that
his curiosity should be excited : but there was evidently a
feeling uppermost in his mind, which struggled with his wish
to indulge in it, and before the procession was out of sight,
it had ceased to appear an object of interest to him.
The day after the events just mentioned, Mr. and
Mrs. Opie called at the Rue Richlieu, to pay their
respects to Mr. Fox, and accepted his invitation to
dine with him there on an early day. The company
they met on that occasion, was too numerous to admit
of general conversation, and she only records one fact
mentioned by their host, as illustrating the strange
changes in times of revolution. He said, " that
nine-and-twenty years before, he had supped in the
room in which they were then dining, with the
celebrated and witty Marechal Richlieu, whose resi
dence the hotel then was."
Mrs. Opie mentions, en passant, that this was the
only time they saw Mr. Fox, until he came to sit to
her husband, for the whole length picture which Opie
painted of him, for Mr. Coke. This far-famed pic
ture cost the painter much anxiety ; and, during the
progress of the work, he was greatly distracted by
the conflicting opinions of friends, who crowded to
104 MEMORIALS OF THE
watch the work ; and interrupted by the impatience
of the sitter, who was eager to be released from the
annoyance of sitting. Mr. Fox perceived and felt for
the uneasiness of Opie, and kindly whispered him,
" Don t mind what these people say, you must know
better than they do."
The picture, when completed, gave general satis
faction, and Mrs. Opie says, " I think I may without
partiality say, it is worthy of the artist, the owner,
and the original."*
The last time she ever saw Mr. Fox was when he
was chaired on his return to Parliament, after he had
accepted office, and alarming was the change in his
appearance :
With a heavy heart (she says) I plucked a laurel leaf from
that car of triumph, which I feared that he filled for the last
time ; and I, indeed, saw him no more ; but on his decease, I
went to the house of Nollekens, to see the cast taken from
his face immediately after death. It was lying on the table,
by the side of that of his dear friend Georgiana Duchess of
Devonshire, and of William Pitt, his powerful opponent.
The two latter masks I could look at, and did look at with
painful interest and serious meditation : but when I took up
the other, I laid it down, and ran out of the room ; I could
not bear to survey the ravages which disease and death had
made in that benevolent countenance; indeed the features
were not recognizable, and though I often returned to gaze
on the others, on that I could never look again.
Mrs. Opie next gives some pleasant recollections of
the evenings she spent in the society of the most
distinguished persons then in Paris, and especially in
the house of Helen Maria Williams, and a beautiful
* This picture is now at Holkham.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE, 105
Irish Countess, the friend of that lady. We select
the account of her interview with Kosciusko.
One evening, at Lady s, we met a party, consisting chiefly
of ambassadors from different nations, and other strangers. I
had not long entered the room, when our hostess led me up
to the Turkish ambassador, and desired me to " make the
agreeable to him." ff Can he speak French ?" said I. " No,
but here is a gentleman who will interpret between you."
At the same time she introduced to me a gentleman in
Asiatic costume, and I readily seated myself by the Turk.
He was a little elderly man, splendidly attired in the dress
of his country ; and I prepared to answer his questions.
One of them was, " how long I had been in Paris ?" and when
my reply, " a few days only," was repeated to him, he said,
not very gallantly, " that he concluded so, from my com
plexion," which, I was very conscious, was tanned, by the
broiling heat of the sun on the recent journey, to a red
brown. At last we ceased to converse through our inter
preter, and substituted signs for words. For instance, he
took my fan, and made me understand that he wanted to
know what I called it ; and I tried to make him comprehend
that it was fan in English, and eventail in French. He then
pronounced its name in Turkish ; and I was learning to
speak it after him, when I was interrupted by my husband,
who, with a glowing cheek and sparkling eye, exclaimed,
" Come hither, look, there is General Kosciusko !" Yes, we
did see Kosciusko ; " Warsaw s last Champion !" he who
had been wounded almost to death in defending his country
against her merciless invaders ; while (to borrow the strong
expressive figure of the poet)
""While Freedom shriek d as Kosciusko fell !"
Instantly forgetting the ambassador, and, I fear, the proper
restraints of politeness, I took my husband s arm, and accom
panied him to get a nearer view of the Polish patriot, so long
the object to me of interest and admiration. I had so often
106 MEMORIALS OF THE
contemplated a print of him in his Polish dress, which hung
in my own room, that I thought I should have known him
again anywhere ; but whether it was owing to the difference
of dress, I know not, but I saw little or no resemblance in
him to the picture. He was not much above the middle
height, had high cheek bones, and his features were not of a
distinguished cast ; with the exception of his eyes, which were
fine and expressive, and he had a high healthy colour. His
forehead was covered by a curled auburn wig, much to my
vexation, as I should have liked to have seen its honourable
scar. But his appearance was pleasing, his countenance
intellectual, his carriage dignified ; and we were very glad,
when our obliging hostess, by introducing us, gave us an
opportunity of entering into conversation with him. He
spoke English as well as we did, and with an English accent.
On our expressing our surprise at this unusual circumstance,
he said he had learned English in America. The tone of his
voice was peculiar, and not pleasing; however, it was
Kosciusko who spoke, and we listened with interest and
pleasure ; though, at this distance of time, I am unable to
say on what subject we conversed. What I am going to
relate, however, it was not likely that I should forget
During the course of the evening, while I was standing at
some distance, but looking earnestly at him, and speaking to
some one in his praise, contrasting, as I believe, his unspotted
patriotism with the then suspected integrity of Buonaparte,
he suddenly crossed the room, and coming up to me, said,
" I am sure you were speaking of me, and I wish to know
what you were saying." " I dare not tell you," replied I.
< e Was it so severe then ?" I bade him ask my companion.
And on hearing her answer he thanked me, in a tone of deep
feeling. " I have a favour to beg of you," said he, " I am
told that you are a writer, pray do write some verses on me ;
a quatrain will be sufficient, will you oblige me ?" I told
him I could rarely write extempore verses, and certainly not
on such a subject, as I should wish to do it all the justice
possible. " Well then," said he, " I will await your pleasure."
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 107
I saw him again only once before I returned to England;
but the next time that his birthday was commemorated at
Paris, I wrote some verses on the occasion, and sent them to
him by a private hand.
During the rest of that memorable evening, when we had
the gratification of seeing the Polish patriot and of conversing
with him, I did not venture to resume the seat next the
Turkish ambassador which I had so unceremoniously quitted ;
but I contrived to enter into conversation with the interpreter,
whose handsome figure and features, added to the gracefulness
of his costume, made him, next to our hostess, the most
striking looking person in the assembly. He spoke French
fluently, and his manner was particularly pleasing.
108 MEMORIALS OF THE
CHAPTER VIII.
THE REYIEW AND BUONAPARTE; " FESCH ;" GENERAL MASSENA J
RETURN TO ENGLAND; LETTER, TO MRS. COLOMBINE ; VISIT TO
NORWICH; "ADELINE MOWBRAY;" LETTER TO MRS. TAYLOR; MR.
ERSKINE.
AT length the long desired object (a sight of
Buonaparte) was attained; she thus relates her
impressions of the scene :
We had now been several days in Paris, and yet we had
not seen the First Consul I I own that my impatience to see
him had been abated, by the growing conviction which I felt
of the possible hollowness of the idol so long exalted.
But still we were desirous of beholding him ; and I was
glad when we received a letter from our obliging acquaint
ance, Count de Lasteyrie, informing us that Buonaparte
would review the troops on such a day, on the Place du
Carousel, and that he had procured a window for us, whence
we should be able to see it to advantage. But, on account of
my short-sightedness, I was still more glad when our friend
De Masquerier, (a very successful young English painter,)
informed us that he had the promise of a window for my
husband and myself, in an apartment on the ground-floor of
the Tuilleries, whence we should be able to have a near view
of Buonaparte : our friends, therefore, profited by M. de
Lasteyrie s kindness, and we went to the palace.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 109
As the time of seeing the First Consul drew nigh, I was
pleased to feel all my original impressions in his favour return.
This might be a weakness in me, but it was, I hope, excuse-
able : and our sense of his greatness and importance was, as
my husband observed, heightened by seeing the great man of
our own country, he who was there a sight himself to many,
cross the Place du Carousel, with his wife on his arm, going,
as we believed, to gaze like us, on, at least, a more fortunate
man than himself for, at that time, Charles James Fox had
not seen Napoleon Buonaparte.
The door which opened into the hall of the palace was
shut, but, after some persuasion, I prevailed on the attendant
to open it ; and he said he would keep it open till the First
Consul had mounted his horse, if I would engage that we
would all of us stand upon the threshold, and not once
venture beyond it.
With these conditions we promised to comply ; and, full of
eager expectation, I stationed myself where I could command
the white marble stairs of the palace ; those steps once
stained with the blood of the faithful Swiss guards, and on
which I now expected to behold the " Pacificator," as he was
called by the people and his friends the hero of Lodi.
Just before the review was expected to begin, we saw
several officers in gorgeous uniforms ascend the stairs, one of
whom, whose helmet seemed entirely of gold, was, as I was
told, Eugene de Beauharnois. A few minutes afterwards
there was a rush of officers down the stairs, and amongst them
I saw a short pale man, with his hat in his hand, who, as I
thought, resembled Lord Erskine in profile; but, though my
friend said in a whisper, " C est lui" I did not comprehend
that I beheld Buonaparte, till I saw him stand alone at the
gate. In another moment he was on his horse, and rode
to
slowly past the window ; while I, with every nerve trembling
with strong emotion, gazed on him intently; endeavouring
to commit each expressive, sharply chiselled feature to
memory ; contrasting also with admiring observation, his
small simple hat, adorned with nothing but a little tri-coloured
110 MEMORIALS OF THE
cockade, and his blue coat, guiltless of gold embroidery, with
the splendid head adornings and dresses of the officers who
followed him.
A second time he slowly passed the window ; then, setting
spurs to his horse, he rode amongst the ranks, where some
faint huzzas greeted him from the crowd on the opposite side
of the Place du Carousel.
At length he took his station before the palace, and as we
looked at him out of the window, we had a very perfect view
of him for nearly three quarters of an hour. I thought, but
perhaps it was fancy, that the countenance of Buonaparte
was lighted up with peculiar pleasure as the corps cCelite,
wearing some mark of distinction, defiled before him, bringing
up the rear that fine gallant corps, which, as we are told,
he had so often led on to victory; but this might be my
fancy. Once we saw him speak, as he took off his hat to
remove the hair from his heated forehead, and this gave us
an opportunity of seeing his front face, and his features in
action. Soon after, we saw him give a sword of honour to
one of the soldiers ; and he received a petition which an old
woman presented to him ; but he gave it, unread, to some one
near him. At length the review ended ; too soon for me.
The Consul sprang from his horse we threw open our door
again, and, as he slowly re-ascended the stairs, we saw him
very near us, and in full face again, while his bright, restless,
expressive, and, as we fancied, dark blue eyes, beaming from
under long black eyelashes, glanced over us with a scrutinising
but complacent look; and thus ended, and was completed,
the pleasure of the spectacle.
I could not speak; I had worked myself up to all my
former enthusiasm for Buonaparte ; and my frame still shook
with the excitement 1 had undergone.
The next day sobered me again, however, but not much, as
will be soon seen.
The day after the review, our accomplished countrywoman
Maria Cos way, took the president of the Royal Academy,
Benjamin West, and ourselves, on a round of picture-seeing ;
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. Ill
and at length we proceeded to the residence of a gentleman,
who was, I concluded, only a picture dealer, or one of the
many nouveaux riches., who had fine collections ; because,
whenever she spoke of him, Maria Cosway called him nothing
but te Fesch." We stopped at the door of a very splendid
hotel in the Chaussee d Antin, and were met at the top of a
magnificent flight of stairs, by a gentleman in the garb of an
ecclesiastic. His hair was powdered, and he wore it in a
full round curl behind, after the fashion of an abbe; his
coat was black, but his stockings were of a bright purple ;
his shoe and knee buckles were of gold ; round his neck he
wore a glossy white silk handkerchief, from under which
peeped forth a costly gold crucifix. His countenance was
pleasing ; his complexion uncommonly blooming ; his man
ners courteous; and his age (as I afterwards learned) was
thirty- nine.
This gentleman was the "Fesch" we came to visit, but I
soon discovered that though he lived in the house, it was not
his own ; for Maria Cosway was summoned into an adjoining
room, where I overheard her conversing with a female ;
and when she returned, she told us that Madame Buonaparte
Mere, (as she was called to distinguish her from her daughter-
in-law,) the mistress of the hotel, was very sorry that she
could not see us, but that she was so unwell, she was obliged
to keep her bed, and could not receive strangers. So then !
we were in the house of Letitia Buonaparte, and the mother
of Napoleon ! and in the next room to her, but ceuld not see
her ! how unfortunate ! however, I was sure I had heard her
voice. I now supposed that "Fesch" was her spiritual
director, and believed his well studied dress, si bien soignee,
was a necessary distinction, as he belonged to the mother of
the First Consul.
He seemed a merry, as well as a courteous man ; and once
he took Maria Cosway aside, and showed her a letter that he
had only just received, which, to judge from the hearty
laugh of " Fesch," and the answering smiles of the lady, gave
them excessive pleasure.
112 MEMORIALS OF THE
By and by, however, I heard and observed many things
which made me think that "Fesch" was more than I
apprehended him to be. I therefore watched for an oppor
tunity to ask the President who this obliging person was.
" What !" cried he, " do you not know that he is the Arch
bishop of Lyons, the uncle of Buonaparte ?" I was astonished !
What the person so familiarly spoken of as " Fesch," could
he be indeed " du sang " of the Buonapartes, and the First
Consul s uncle ! How my respect for him increased when I
heard this ! How interesting became his every look and word ;
and how grateful I felt for his obliging attention to us !
While we were looking at the pictures, his niece, the wife
of Murat, drove to the door ; and I saw the top of her cap
as she alighted, but no more, as she went immediately to her
mother s bedside.
After devoting to us at least two hours, the Archbishop
conducted us down the noble staircase, to the beautiful hall
of entrance, and courteously dismissed us. My companions
instantly went away, but I lingered behind ; for I had caught
a view of a colossal bust of Buonaparte in a helmet, which
stood on a table, and I remained gazing on it, forgetful of all
but itself. Yes ! there were those finely cut features, that
" coupe de menton a V Apollon !" and, though I thought| the
likeness a flattered one, I contemplated it with great pleasure,
and was passing my hand admiringly over the salient chin,
when I heard a sort of suppressed laugh, and, turning round,
saw the Archbishop observing me, and instantly, covered with
confusion, I ran out of the house. I found Maria Cosway
explaining what the letter was which had given " Fesch " and
her such evident satisfaction. It was nothing less than a
letter from Rome, informing him that he would probably be
put in nomination for the next cardinal s hat.
How soon he was nominated I cannot remember, but it is
now many years since the blooming ecclesiastic of 1802,
exchanged his purple for scarlet stockings, his mitre for a
red hat, and his title of Archbishop of Lyons, for that of
Cardinal Fesch.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 113
As the time drew near when she must bid far.ewell
to Paris, Mrs. Opie evidently longed for an extension
of a season so full of enjoyment to her ; but since her
wish could not be gratified, she determined to make
the most of every hour that remained ; and she relates
several anecdotes, relative to what she saw at the
places she visited; among others the atelier of David,
whither she accompanied her husband, and where she
was forcibly struck with one of that artist s pictures,
" Brutus returning from the tribunal after adjudging
his sons to death." The emotion of compassion
awakened in her mind by this picture was so strong,
that she was unable to gaze on it without pain, so
real was the illusion. Another visit the party made
was to the Hotel of Murat, which, being furnished in
the most elegant style of French luxury, was thought
worth seeing : and splendid indeed it was.
The bed of the lady of the house was too elegant, and then,
too uncommon, to be forgotten ; it stood in a recess which
was lined with looking-glass, and at the foot of the bed were,
as 1 think, two finely chiselled marble cupids. The drape
ries were of the clearest muslin, lined with rose-coloured
satin; and the counterpane as well as the valance was
flounced with deep point lace. The panels of the room were
painted in drab and rose colour ; and all the decorations of
the apartment were in the most costly buttasteful style.
But what pleased me most in this hotel, was a picture of
General Moreau, which, unframed, stood against one of the
walls. It was a whole-length, as large as life, from the
pencil of Gerard, and was one of those real portraits, which
resemble life so much, that we are apt to fancy, when we
recall the features, that we have seen, not the portrait, but
the original.
Just as they were leaving the hotel, their attention
114 MEMORIALS OF THE
was directed to a gentleman who was talking energeti
cally to the porter, and whom their guide informed
them was General Massena. Pleased indeed, to see
one of whom she had read and heard so much, she
scanned him attentively, and thus describes his
appearance :
His head was one of the largest I had ever seen, his
hair long and thick and curled, a la Brutus, and his features
large and not fine. His eyes, however, were bright ; in his
ears he wore gold rings of large dimensions, (then commonly
worn by French officers,) and his person was large, his height
apparently nearly six feet. On the whole, however, his
appearance was not prepossessing, and there was a look of
coarse brutal daring, which contrasted unfavourably with the
pleasing expression in the countenance of his rival in military
fame, General Moreau.
Sorry as our enthusiastic traveller felt, when the
hour of departure from Paris arrived, she yet greeted
(she tells us) with heartfelt delight the white cliffs of
her own dear native land. On the homeward journey
she mentions a somewhat amusing incident ; a little
dog, purchased by Mr. Opie, was entrusted to her
care, and made so many claims upon her time and
attention, that she owns it was no matter of regret
to her, that the poor brute shortly died, " which
saved me (she adds) from the danger I seemed likely
to incur, of becoming the slave of a pet animal."
Some of those who accompanied Mr. and Mrs. Opie
on this tour used afterwards to relate, what ardour
and intense delight she manifested in all the objects
of interest she beheld ; and how she sat on the Boule
vards and sang, with heart and voice, " Fall, tyrants
fall!" At the theatre they heard Talma, as "Cain,"
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 115
in the " Death of Abel;" and so deep an impression
did this wonderful actor produce on her memory, that
within a few years, she has been heard to refer to
that occasion, dwelling on his look and manner, and
the preternatural tone with which he answered the
voice, " Ou es tu Cain ?" " Id, Seigneur;" the sounds,
deep and sepulchral, appearing to issue from the
ground beneath him.
Of the ensuing winter, and spring of the year fol
lowing, we have no record from her hand ; one letter
alone remains, dated 25th February, 1803, addressed
to her old and esteemed friend Mrs. Colombine. It
is too long to be inserted entire, although of much
interest, illustrating as it does her benevolence, and
that kindliness of heart which was throughout life
one of her most distinguishing characteristics. After
expressing her friendly sympathy in the troubles that
had befallen those to whom in early life she had been
attached, she says :
* * I assure you I cannot enough express how much I
admire and honour the fortitude you have throughout dis
played. Not to feel would be downright insensibility ; but
to feel so acutely as I know you do, and still to bear up so
well, is a proof of strength of mind which I am proud to see
in one whom I so sincerely love and esteem. But you would
not, I know, exchange your feelings, for the insensibility of
some mothers; for instance, of Mrs. B , whom I almost
hated for your sake, for daring so to intrude on the sacredness
of recent sorrow. Do not scold me for speaking thus of her,
because she is dead. I think " speak only good of the dead,"
is a silly and pernicious maxim ; I had rather speak ill of the
dead than of the living. * * * Give my kind love to Mr. C.
and tell him that he must, and ought to be, cheerful, because
i 2
116 MEMORIALS OF THE
he has reason to be proud. Respect and esteem attend him
into retirement and misfortune, and though he may be
allowed to blush for others, he must respect himself. I think
we Norwich people have reason to be proud of our native
city ! such liberality, and so well directed, makes it an honour
to belong to it. * It gives me great pleasure to see, both in
you and Mrs. B. that ardent piety which can alone fortify and
cheer the afflicted mind ; and when I hear virtuous infidels
(for there are such) declare that they do not regret either the
hopes or consolations of religion, I hear with surprise and
pity, and end by believing that they do not know or do not
own, their real feelings.
Farewell, and believe me,
Most affectionately yours,
A. OPIE.
During the summer of this year Mrs. Opie paid her
usual visit to Norwich, and again her lengthened stay
called forth the remonstrances of her husband. He
writes, u my affection for you is even increased in
point of general feeling and interest, so that if I do
not admire you more, I feel you more a part of myself
than I ever did at first," and urging her speedy return,
for that he " longs so very much to see her."
In this letter he mentions that as soon as he has an
opportunity he means to send her
A letter, with a volume of poems, by Henry Kirke White,
a " visionary boy," of seventeen, who, with all becoming
diffidence, presumes to lay his youthful productions at the
* We find in Matchett s " Norfolk and Norwich Remembrancer,"
p. 63, under date, October 13th, 1802, this entry; " Alderman
Francis Colombine resigned his gown as Alderman, to whom and
his daughter the Corporation of Norwich granted an annuity
of 100."
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 117
feet of one, " who so eminently enjoys the holy impulse" as
yourself. He was " struck with the resemblance of one of
his poems to one of yours, though to compare the former to
the latter, is like comparing O Keefe to Shakespeare"
there ! I hope this will give you pleasure. Let me hear on
Wednesday how you are. The cat and parrot are both well,
and the kitten* beautiful and merry. The guns have been
firing to-day, but on what account I am ignorant yet.
Adieu, my only love.
Again, probably shortly after this, her husband
writes to her, enclosing a letter containing some com
plimentary verses on her " Elegy to the memory of
the late Earl of Bedford," and adding, by way of
postscript,
This came to me in a cover on Monday, so I thought it
too delicious not to be sent immediately ; who is the author ?
Your letter is arrived; and I am very sorry to find this
cursed election lasting so long, and I wish you would not
appear so prominent in it. I asked Mrs. N. about the box*
and she says it was not to go till I went ; however, I shall
now have it sent as soon as possible. I have seen nothing of
Erskine or Reynolds for some time. The cloak I am afraid
is lost, for Mr. Bunn wrote me that he had made every
inquiry in vain. Dr. Haweis has been sitting two or three
times, and makes a good head. I shall write to you to-mor
row or next day, so, God bless you, yours ever. J. 0.
Let me hear again, Friday or Saturday at furthest ; I feel
* This creature became a great pet. Mrs. Opie taught it some
pretty tricks, and it was so fondly attached to Mr. 0. that during
his illness it used to sit and watch at the door of his chamber like a
dog. Mrs. 0. often talked of it. It came to an untimely end, and
she was so much distressed about it, that this probably was the
reason she never would again have any pets ; for, in later years she
evinced no disposition to fondle animals. No favourite dog, cat, or
bird, was permitted to domicile with her.
118 MEMORIALS OF THE
desirous enough of seeing you, but I have not much more to
say at present, unless I begin scolding you about the election.
What business had you to get mounted up somewhere so
conspicuously ? But there is no more room ; I am going
now to dine with Thomson, to meet little J. A Mr. Best
called on Saturday, and said he meant to be or to have
somebody painted, but I have heard no more.
In 1804, Mrs. O. published " Adeline Mowbray,"
or " Mother and Daughter," a Tale, in three volumes,
the object of this work is to pourtray the lamentable
consequences which would result from the adoption
of lax principles on the subject of matrimony. " The
second volume of this beautiful story is perhaps tbe
most pathetic and the most natural in its pathos, of
any fictitious narrative in the language," says the
writer of the 19tb Art. in " The Edinburgh Review"
of 1806.
The following letter to Mrs, Taylor was probably
written about this time :
(without date.)
MY DEAK FRIEND,
* * * I am just returned from Deptford,
where I have been ever since Thursday ; a sad loss of time,
and nothing would have made me patient under it, but the
extreme pity I feel for Miss M. s forlorn situation. But
perhaps, as my company gives her comfort, I ought not to
call my visit to her a loss of time. I was lamenting to
Mrs Barbauld, to whom I related this poor orphan s story,
that Miss M. did not seem to have any taste, for reading.
" So much the better," was her answer, " I do not think such
a taste desirable. Reading is an indolent way of passing the
time" and so she went on. I was extremely surprised, as
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 119
you may think, and began to combat her assertions ; but I
recollected that I had heard it said that Mrs. B., like
W. Taylor, often contradicted for the sake of argument, and
when I feel this, as it is a proceeding which I thoroughly
disapprove, I am too angry to keep up the ball.
I find that Mrs. B. admires Cowper s letters very much.
In my opinion they have been much overrated. The letters
to Lady Hesketh are beautiful ; but those to Hayley and
J. Johnson, abounding as they do in "dearests" and
" fondnesses" and " dearest of all dear Johnnies," make me
sick a la mortf
# # # -x- You have not ridden much in stage coaches
I believe, at least not round town. O I what a pleasure I
should lose were I to ride in my own carriage and forsake
stages I I find egotism the prevailing characteristic of my
fellow-travellers. This morning I found, when I entered the
stage, one passenger only in it, and that was a little girl.
" Are you going to town ? " said I. " Yes, I know the
gentleman, and so I came." " What gentleman ?" " The
coachman, he lives by us ; and so, as I wanted to go for my
shoes, he said he would take me ; he promised me my shoes
to wear to-day, and I am going to see arter em ; I ha known
Mr. Wheeler a long time," &c. and so she ran on, till I was
tired of listening ; and convinced me egotism is of all ages.
As I went down, a fine, jolly, florid young countrywoman, a
great deal fatter than I am, was complaining to a gentleman
(who informed us he was just recovered from a fit of illness)
that she was very unwell too ; and as she had not seen her
friends at Deptford for two years, she was sure they would
be quite shocked at the change in her, for when she left them
she was quite jolly and healthy looking. I could hardly
keep in my laughter at this. Her Deptford friends must
be droll persons, and great amateurs in fat indeed, to be
dissatisfied with her magnitude, and regret what she had
lost ; I protest she might have played the goddess of health
at Dr. Graham s.
120 MEMORIALS OF THE
I shall see you now soon, and I hope to see you nearly
well. Farewell ! With kind love to Mr. Taylor and all the
family, I remain, toute a vous,
A. OPIE.
In 1805 she was again in Norwich, and during
that visit she enjoyed the unexpected pleasure of
hearing Mr. Erskine plead; happily she has given
an account of this event, which is preserved among
her MSS. As usual when about to relate anything
connected in her mind with an earlier period, she
goes back, on the present occasion, to the time when
she first saw Mr. Erskine. This was in the Nisi
Prius court in Norwich, whither he had come down
on a special retainer in a Kight-of-Way cause, which
for some reason was not heard at that assizes. She
says :
Well do I remember him, as I first saw him, entering for
a few minutes, and taking a hasty survey of the court. I
was immediately struck with the look of intelligent inquiry
which he cast over the eager, but disappointed crowd,
assembled to hear him; that eye reminded me of the
description of Ledyard, the eastern traveller s eye, for it
seemed " bright and restless," and its rapid glance appeared
to observe, in its brief survey, as much as other eyes in a
more lengthened one ; and I much regretted that the interest
which his appearance excited in me was not to be increased
by the well known melody of his voice.*
Soon after, I had the privilege of becoming acquainted
with him, when I was staying at the house of a dear friend
* I observed the same expression in the eye of Buonaparte,
when, standing near the marble stairs of the Tuilleries, I saw him
as he ascended them and looked on a group of English assembled to
gaze at him. A. 0.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 121
near London, and in the course of conversation he informed
us that he was going down special to Huntingdon, on a most
interesting occasion. A young man, lately come into pos
session of a large fortune, had been proceeded against by the
next heir as being a supposititious child ; and he told us that
he was counsel for the defence, and that the cause was likely
to be very long and very interesting, as the defendant was
universally beloved ; kindly adding, that as he saw I was in
terested in such things, when he met me at dinner again, on
his return to London, he would then give myself and my
friends an account of the trial. Consequently, great was my
impatience till the day of the dinner came, and the great
orator arrived ; but though he again talked most pleasantly,
and on law subjects too, not one single allusion did he make
to the Huntingdon cause. In vain did I try to take courage,
and remind him of his promise ; I was not then a married
woman, and fancied it would be presuming to do so; but,
when I heard his carriage announced, and saw him about to
depart, made valiant by despair, I exclaimed " Oh ! Mr.
Erskine, you have not fulfilled your promise ! you have not
told us the particulars of the Huntingdon cause !" " True !"
he replied, starting and turning back, " but you shall not be
disappointed," and leading me to the sofa, he seated himself
beside me, and went through the whole of the proceeding?.
He gave us the evidence on both sides, told us what his
opponent had said for the plaintiff, and he for the defendant ;
and, warming as he proceeded, he soon grew as much interested
in the details as we were ; and when he came to the verdict
of the jury which was in favour of his client, his counte
nance beamed with animation, while he described the general
plaudit with which the verdict was received in the court, and
the shouts which were heard outside the walls from the
assembled multitude !
He then hastily jumped into his carriage, leaving me
exulting in having drawn from him a gratification so unusual
and so complete.
122 MEMORIALS OF THE
But I experienced a still greater and much longer enjoy
ment of his eloquence in the year 1805, when he went down
to Norwich, on the same Right-of-Way cause before alluded
to ; and I, being then on a visit to my father, had the pleasure
of hearing him speak when he appeared on the side of the
plaintiff.
As I was very early in court, I obtained a seat by the side
of the judge, Sir Alexander Macdonald, and saw and heard
everything to the greatest advantage. In that place I
remained the whole day, except when, on being assured that
my seat should be kept for me, I went home to tea, but soon
returned to the scene of action, where I staid all night ; as I
could not bear to go away without hearing the great orator s
reply to the defendant s counsel. As I was desirous that the
plaintiff should gain her cause, I had been alarmed to find
by the speech of the eloquent advocate for the defendant,
how much could be said on both sides, and was therefore
anxious to hear by what means his arguments could be ren
dered powerless ; therefore, though listening with delighted
attention and wonder to the powerful cross-examination, I
wished it over : but witness, on the defendant s side, succeeded
to witness ; the audience became gradually smaller and
smaller, and although Lord Brougham with his usual elo
quence and felicity of expression has said, "that juries
declared they found it impossible to remove their looks from
Mr. Erskine when he had, as it were, rivetted and fascinated
them by his first glance," I am obliged to confess that some
of this Norfolk jury began visibly to nod, and it seemed
likely, that, except the judge, the high sheriff, the barristers,
the officers of the court, and myself, there would soon be no
hearers left awake, and the beams of rising day were forcing
themselves through the windows !
The observant Erskine took the hint, so palpably given, and
coming up to me, he kindly said, " go home I go home ! I
shall not reply to night; but you had better be here by eight in
the morning," and soon after the court adjourned to that hour.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 123
When I reached the terrace of the castle* my steps were
arrested, and even the necessity of sleep forgotten, by the
sight of the most splendid sunrise I had ever beheld I I did
not pause to gaze on it alone, and I should not have paused
in my narrative, in order to mention so irrelevant a cir
cumstance, had not my companion been one whom I never
again beheld; one whom I have pleasure in recalling to my
memory, and of whom I have lately been agreeably reminded
by Dr. Bowring s amusing memoir of Jeremy Bentham. I
allude to the late George Wilson, who for many years went
the Norwich Circuit, and to whom I was made known at an
early age, and by whom my love of attending courts was
good humouredly encouraged. When impaired health (rather
than age) obliged this amiable and intellectual man to quit
the bar, he retired into Scotland, his native country, and I
think he took up his abode in the delightful city of Edinburgh*
where he died a few years ago, lamented and regretted by all
who had the privilege of his acquaintance. It is a satisfaction
to me to have had the oportunity of paying even this little
tribute to his memory.
I was in court again by half-past seven, but too late to
obtain a seat, and I stood many hours, in a painful position,
but I was soon made unconscious of it by the eloquence of
Erskine; for during those hours he spoke, and hushed a
court, crowded even to suffocation, into the most perfect
stillness. Never was the power of an orator over his audience
more evident or more complete.
The plaintiff gained her cause, and her advocate new
laurels ; for I know that those best qualified to form a correct
judgment on the subject, namely, his brother lawyers, who
were present, declared that they had " never before heard
Mr. E. so great in reply."
Fortunate, therefore, were those who heard him that day,
as never again was he heard to equal advantage. A few
* The Assizes were held at this time in a building at the top of
the Castle Hill adjoining the Castle.
MEMORIALS OF THE
months afterwards he was made Lord Chancellor, and when,
while talking to him at a party in London, I told him I was
every day intending to go into the Court of Chancery, in
hope of hearing him speak in his new capacity his reply
was, " Pray do not come ! you will not hear anything worth
the trouble. I am nothing now ; you -heard the last and best
of me at Norwich last year ! "
This was indeed too true; and those powers of forensic
eloquence for which he was so celebrated, he could exercise
no longer. His audiences, in future life, were almost wholly
different from his former ones, and those attractions so pecu
liarly his own, were not necessary on the judgment-seat, in
the Court of Chancery, and would have been in a measure
thrown away in the House of Lords.
Fortunate, therefore, I repeat it, were those who heard
him in the Right-of-Way cause at Norwich, and when he
forcibly reminded me of the portrait of Garrick so admirably
drawn by the pen of Sheridan in his unequalled monody
a portrait which might have been supposed to be that of
the Honorable Thomas Erskine, for his indeed were
" The grace of action, the adapted mien,
Faithful as nature to the varied scene ;
The expressive glance, whose subtle comment draws
Entranc d attention and a mute applause ;
Gesture that marks, with sense of feeling fraught,
A sense in silence, and a will in thought.
Harmonious speech, whose pure and liquid tone
Gives verse a music scarce confess d its own :
As light from gems assumes a brighter ray,
And cloth d with orient hues transcends the day.
Passion s wild break, and frowns that awe the sense
And every charm of gentler eloquence."
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 125
CHAPTER IX.
PKOSPEKITY; " SIMPLE TALES;" YISIT TO SOUTHILL; LADY EOSLYN;
ME. OPIE S "LECTUEES;" HIS ILLNESS; HIS DEATH.
THE year 1806 was, to the subject of these memoirs,
prosperous, and full of joyful anticipation for the
future, beyond any that had preceded it. The time
so long desired seemed now at hand ; Mr. Opie saw
himself justly rewarded, for all his labour and
perseverance amid difficulties and disappointments,
by success and fame; "he was conscious (his wife
says) that our circumstances were now such as would
enable us to have more of the comforts and elegancies
of life, and to receive our friends in a manner more
suited to the esteem which we entertained for them ;
I was allowed to make the long projected alterations
and improvements in my own apartments ; and he
had resolved to indulge himself in the luxury (as he
called it) of keeping a horse." But alas ! when the
time did come, it came too late !
Not, however, to anticipate in the spring of this
year, Mrs. Opie published her " Simple Tales," in four
volumes; tales which are characterized by the same
merits, as well as defects, as are found in her other
works of this description. For a critique upon them,
126 MEMORIALS OF THE
and on Mrs. Opie s merits as an author, we must refer
the reader to the article, before alluded to, in the July
number of " The Edinburgh Review," for 1806, from
which we may be allowed to quote a short extract.
After alluding to the deficiencies of her style, and
observing that few of her personages can be said to
be original, or even uncommon, the writer says :
" They have, however, a merit in our eyes incomparably
superior ; they are strictly true to general nature, and are
rarely exhibited except in interesting situations ; * * * there
is something delightfully feminine in all Mrs. O. s writings ;
an apparent artlessness in the composition of her narrative ;
and something which looks like want of skill or practice in
writing for the public, that gives a powerful effect to the
occasional beauties and successes of her genius; there is
nothing like an ambitious, or even a sustained tone in her
stories ; we often think she is going to be tedious or silly ;
and immediately, without effort or apparent consciousness
of improvement, she slides into some graceful and inter
esting dialogue, or charms us with some fine and delicate
analysis of the subtler feelings, which would have done honour
to the genius of Marivaux. She does not reason well ; but
she has, like most accomplished women, the talent of
perceiving truth, without the process of reasoning, and of
bringing it out with the facility and the effect of an obvious
and natural sentiment. Her language is often inaccurate,
but it is almost always graceful and harmonious. She can do
nothing well that requires to be done with formality ; and,
therefore, has not succeeded in copying either the concentrated
force of weighty and deliberate reason, or the severe and
solemn dignity of majestic virtue. To make amends, however,
she represents admirably everything that is amiable, generous,
and gentle."
The following note by Mr. Sydney Smith, was
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 127
written soon after this time, when she was pre
paring to publish one of her subsequent works :
DEAR MRS. OPIE,
I have read your manuscripts, upon the whole,
with great satisfaction ; two or three I have advised you to
suppress ; two or three to correct and polish ; and upon many
I have bestowed a praise, which I hope, for your sake, is as
enlightened, as it is warm and sincere. Tenderness is your
forte, and carelessness your fault.
Direct me how to dispose of your MS., and believe me,
Ever yours most truly,
S. SMITH.
Mrs. S. begs her kind compliments to you. You will find
my remarks scrawled in pencil under each page. I have
left emendations to you, merely marking where they are
wanted.
In the summer of this memorable year, (when, as
the phrase is, u all the talents were in," so soon to be
driven out by the death of Fox,) Mr. and Mrs. Opie
went, accompanied by Mr. Wilkie, on a visit to
Southill, the seat of Mr. Whitbread ; " and never,"
says Mrs. Opie, " did I see my husband so happy,
when absent from London, as he was there ; for he
felt towards the host and hostess every sentiment of
respect and admiration which it is pleasant to feel,
and honourable to inspire. But though he was the
object of the kindest and most flattering attention, he
sighed to return to London and his pursuits ; and
when he had been at Southill only eight days, he said
to me, on my expressing my unwillingness to go
away, Though I shall be even anxious to come
128 MMEORIALS OF THE
hither again, remember that I have been idle eight
days r "
In a letter to her father, during this visit, she
gives a pleasing account of some of the events that
transpired :
1806
MY DEAR FATHER,
I received the parcel safe, and beg you to
thank Mr. Taylor for his letter, and tell him I am quite
convinced of his sobriety, but not the less of my neglect.
Your letter is just arrived. I had already asked about the
boroughs and bor ough- monger s ; but Mr. W. knows not
where to find the latter, and nothing certainly about the
price of the former ; but he fancies it is 4000 for a single
seat, and five, or more, for two seats. * * * *
We arrived here after a pleasant journey of forty-two
miles, (not sixty, as we were told it was,) at three o clock on
Saturday. Part of the country through which we passed
was pleasant, but for some miles before we approached
Southill, we went through such bleak barrenness, as was
scarcely cheered by the sight of a large white house seen
at a distance, which we took to be Mr. Whitbread s. In two
miles more we entered the park, " and paradise seemed opened
in the wild." The entrance is near the house, which is,
however, perfectly concealed by a thick shrubbery and high
trees, skirting a winding gravel walk up to the house, which
bursts upon you very beautifully indeed. The country is
flat ; but in the front of the house there is a slight inequality
of ground, and the lawn is so beautiful, and the trees so fine,
and the shrubs so richly diversified ; in short, it is so truly a
smiling scene, and at the same time so comfortably sequestered,
that, for a dwelling, I would not change it for one commanding
views of bolder country. On entering the house, the true
use and enjoyment of unbounded opulence force themselves at
once on one s conviction. Everything is rich, but at the same
time tasteful and comfortable ; and the more you see, and the
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 129
longer you inhabit Southill, the more you feel assured
that, used as it is there, opulence is a blessing. The family }
not expecting us till near six, were out when we arrived;
so the groom of the chambers led us to our apartments,
consisting of a large dressing-room and bed-room ; and
we had the pleasure to find that our room commanded
the pretty view at the front of the house, of which a pond,
prettily shaded, is an agreeable feature. As soon as we had
had sandwiches, &c., the barouche and the family arrived,
and we had the sorrow to find Lady Elizabeth very unwell,
and so she had been all the time on her journey. She
immediately went to lie down. Mr. Opie accompanied Mr.
Whitbread, &c., in the barouche, in a drive which he was
going to take, four- in-hand ; and Mr. Wilkie and I took a
walk. At six we all met at dinner.
Wednesday. I began this yesterday before breakfast, but
had no opportunity of resuming my pen till to day, nine
o clock. Nobody down but my husband and myself. He is
standing under a colonnade, going from the open window at
which I am now sitting, enjoying the rolling of the thunder
and the forked lightning, which, untired with its tremendous
violence last night, has renewed the elemental strife to-day.
It reminds me of the storm some twenty years ago, which
made a tour through the whole country. Hark ! it comes
nearer and nearer, and the lightning flashes across my face.
I doubt there has befen mischief done somewhere. But to
resume my narrative. I need not tell you our dinner was
excellent, and French enough to delight me. The dessert
consisted of ice, pine apple, and every variety of fruit and
wine. The only guests here are Reynolds, Wilkie, ourselves,
and Lady Roslyn and her children. After a pleasant
evening, Lady Elizabeth being much recovered, we retired
at eleven, and were summoned to meet the next morning at
the breakfast table at nine, that we might get off for
Woburn Abbey in good time. We got away a little before
eleven, Tom Adkin and Wilkie in a gig, Lady E. W., Lady
Roslyn, Miss Whitbread, her brother, Reynolds, and ourselves
130
MEMORIALS OF THE
in the barouche and four greys, driven by Mr. Whitbread.
The day was only too fine, as its extreme brightness almost
made it impossible for us to gaze on the really pretty country
which we passed. * * * Interrupted by the tempest, and for
the first time in my life terrified and awed almost to fainting
by the nearness and overpowering brilliancy of the lightning,
and the loudness of the thunder ; it is quite over the house,
and one feels as if the vast building was rived in twain. It
was quite mournful to hear the cattle lowing and the
sheep bleating their fears last night. Another and another
louder yet! the rain falling in torrents. The poor green
parrot by me, its powers sharpened by fear, is trying to
imitate the thunder ; the other parrot, a grey one, seems too
much alarmed to speak. I never felt so nervous before at a
storm, but it quite oppresses me ! * I think it abates.
How I pity those who are always afraid at such times, during
the awful continuance of such a tempest as this ! At eleven
Lady Koslyn was to leave us; she can t go now certainly,
and I wish her departure may be delayed till to-morrow.
On the stairs I met three lovely children the first day I
came, and the nursemaid said, " this is Lady Janet Sinclair. 5
And who is that lovely boy in petticoats ? " That is Lord
Loughborough." I thought I should have laughed in the
child s face, for my associations with that name are a great
wig and a parrot face ! The child himself, an uncommonly
grand and handsome boy, of four years old, says, "my
real name is James, that is what my friends call me, but my
nickname is Lord Loughborough." " And who calls you by
your nickname ?" " The maids in the nursery."
The storm is greatly subsided, at least it is further off, or
I could not have told you this trifling story. If I have time
after breakfast, before the post goes off, I will describe our
delightful day at Woburn, and our drive yesterday. To-day
Lady St. John is to dine here, and with her come Mr.
Peak well and his mother. Mrs. Bouverie writes to Lady R.
(her daughter) every day, the most delightful accounts of
Mr. Fox s health !
The envelope of this letter is missing.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 131
Mrs. Opie has recorded, in her note book, some
further particulars of this delightful visit; and
especially in reference to Lady Roslyn, whom she
had long wished to see and know.
At first (she says) I was rather disappointed in her beauty,
but there was a charm in her manner and conversation which
soon won upon me, and we shortly became mutually inter
ested in each other, and visited Bedford Jail together, and
two or three country houses, at one of which, belonging to
our host, we remained for some time with the old dame who
took care of it. Lady R. begged her to fetch us a draught
of new milk, and the good woman, who was basting a leg of
mutton, hastily laid down her basting-spoon and departed to
fulfil her wishes. "It were a pity the good soul should
suffer for her kindness," said the lady, and immediately
seizing the ladle, the graceful countess commenced operations;
while I, admiring her benevolence, pleased myself with
observing her, and thought that among the interesting sights
of the morning, that of seeing Harriet, Countess of Roslyn,
basting a leg of mutton, was not the least.
The last paragraph in the preceding letter speaks
of "delightful accounts of Mr. Fox s health;" soon
to be exchanged for tidings of his lamented
death, which happened on the 13th of September
following.
On his return from this short period of relaxation,
Mr. Opie betook himself with increasing diligence to
the duties of his profession. " To the toils of the
artist, during the day, (says his wife,) succeeded those
of the writer, every evening ; and from the month of
September, 1806, to February, 1807, he allowed his
mind no rest, and scarcely indulged in the relaxation
of a walk, or the society of his friends." He was
K 2
132
MEMORIALS OF THE
engaged in completing his Lectures on Painting, to
be delivered as Professor of Painting, at the Royal
Academy. Each of them, as he finished it, he read
to his wife, and, after the delivery of the first lecture
in the Academy, u he was complimented by his
brethren, escorted home by Sir William Beechey, and
appeared to his wife in a flush of joy. Next morning
he said he had passed a restless night, for he was so
elated that he could not sleep!"* The first of the
lectures was delivered on the 16th February, 1807;
the fourth and last, on the 9th of March following.
To the completion of these Lectures his life perhaps
fell a sacrifice, at least so thought Mrs. Opie, and, in
the bitterness of her regret, she wished they had
never been thought of. When they were completed,
his friend, Mr. Prince Hoare, requested of him an
article for his periodical paper, called " The Artist."
" I am tired, (he replied,) tired of writing ; and I mean
to be a gentleman in the spring months, keep a horse,
and ride out every morning."
But it was otherwise determined. He shortly after
sickened ; a slow and consuming illness attacked him,
and wasted his vital energies, baffling the skill of the
most experienced physicians, who hastened to his
bedside, and attended him during the few remaining
weeks of his life, with unremitting attention. His
poor wife said she had, at least, the soothing con
viction, that no human means had been left untried
to ward off the inevitable stroke. Her memoir
concludes with a few details respecting the closing
scenes, which are best given in her own words.
* A. Cunningham s Lives of British Artists.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 133
I cannot dwell minutely on these painful hours. Great as
my misery must have been at such a moment, under any
circumstances, it was, if possible, aggravated by my being
deprived of the consolation and benefit of my father s presence
and advice, at this most trying period of my life ; for he was
attending the sick bed of his, apparently, dying mother. Yet
she recovered, at the age of 85, to the perfect enjoyment of
life and happiness, while Mr. Opie was cut off in the prime
of his days ! But let me dwell on the brighter side of the
picture. Let me be thankful for the blessing I experienced
in the presence of that sister, so dear to my husband, who,
by sharing with me the painful, yet precious tasks of affec
tion, enabled me to keep from his bed all hired nurses, all
attendants, but our deeply interested selves ; that was indeed
a consolation.
Of this sister Mrs. Opie speaks frequently with
affectionate regard ; and many years after, when she
visited her husband s relations in Cornwall, expressed
her tender regret that she was no longer living to
welcome her, and to go over with her the memories
of the past.
After paying a tribute of thanks to the numerous
friends who evinced their sympathy and respect, and
shared, with affectionate solicitude, her anxieties, she
says :
The most soothing consciousness which I now have to
look back upon, when I revert to the painful scenes of his
illness, is the certainty that my husband s last perceptions in
this world were of a pleasurable nature. By the kindness of
his friend and former pupil, Mr. Thompson, E. A., he was
gratified in his desire to see his picture of the Duke of
Gloucester, which he was most anxious should appear in the
exhibition, completed, and when it was brought to the foot
of his bed, he looked at it with the greatest satisfaction, and
134 MEMORIALS OF THE
said, with a smile, " Take it away, it will do now." This
incident seemed to give the turn to the delirium which
followed, for he was painting in imagination upon it, until
the last hour of his existence.
When Sir Joshua was buried in St. Paul s, Mr.
Opie exclaimed to his sister, with the proud conscious
ness of innate power, " Aye girl ! and I too shall be
buried in St. Paul s." His prophecy was accom
plished. On the 9th of April, 1807, in the 46th
year of his age, he expired; and on the 20th, the
remains of John Opie were interred close beside those
of Sir Joshua Reynolds !
It was said of him, by one of the first painters of
his day, " Others get forward by steps, but this man
by strides;" and so Goethe said of his great rival
Schiller, " Er hatte ein furchtbares Fortschreiten ;
und so ging er immer vor warts, bis sechs und vierzig
Jahre ; dann war er denn, freilich, weit genug!"*
* "His strides were astounding: and so lie continued ever onwards,
for forty and six years ; then indeed, he had gone far enough ! "
LIFE OF AMELIA OP1E, 135
CHAPTER X.
RETURN TO NORWICH; " POEMS;" MEMOIR OF HER HUSBAND; LETTER
FROM LADY CHARLEVILLE ; FROM MRS. INCHBALD ; VISIT TO LONDON ;
PARTY AT LADY E. WHITBREAD s; VISIT TO CROMER ; " TEMPER ;"
"TALES OF REAL LIFE;" SOIREE AT MADAME DE STAEL S.
ON the death of her husband Mrs. Opie returned
to the home of her youth, and to her father, for
whom she now felt the more concentrated and entire
affection, as he was the only object united to her by
the dearest ties of nature. For, unhappily, her
marriage was a childless one ; the desire she cherished
had been denied her, and no son was given her, to
inherit the talents of his father, and be the joy of his
mother s heart.
Providence, however, had preserved to her the
parent whom she had left with regret, and whose love
she still so dearly prized. It was now her duty and
delight to devote herself to render him happy, and
she left her sad abode, where all reminded her of the
loss she had sustained, and came back to her father,
and like a sunbeam her presence gladdened his home ;
and as a guardian angel she blessed him, the delight
and the ornament of his declining years.
136 MEMORIALS OF THE
Of the seven years that followed the death of
Mr. Opie not many traces remain among her papers ;
some there are, and we proceed to record them.
That she left London very shortly after that event, is
evident from a let ter written by one of her friends
dated July the llth, 1807, and addressed to her at
Norwich ; as well as from a note, short enough to be
given at length, signed Comtesse d Oyenhausen.*
" Parmi les noms qui vous marquent autant d estime que
d attachement, veuillez bien Mme. ajouter le mien, comme
une preuve de n etre point oubliee. Votre depart trop
prompt, laisse ici un vuide que tout le monde aper^oit, et
tres particulierement votre," &c., &c.
IQ 1808 she published a second volume of poetry,
entitled " The Warrior s Return, and other Poems ;" in
the preface to which she says, " The poems which
compose this little volume were written, with two or
three exceptions, several years ago, and to arrange
and fit them for publication has been the amusement
of many hours of retirement."
In the spring of 1809 were published her husband s
" Lectures on Painting," to which was prefixed the
" Memoir," from which we have so frequently quoted.
This book was published by subscription, and some
of her friends interested themselves in procuring
names ; one or two letters on the subject were found
among her papers, and among them one from Lady
Charleville, from which, as it contains some allusions
to Mrs. Opie s writings, and shews the impression
her manners produced upon those with whom she
associated, we venture to select a few passages.
* This lady s name is among the subscribers to the " Lectures."
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 137
Charleville Forest, August 23rd, 1809.
MY DEAR MADAM,
I did not expect that you could find leisure to
write to me before your return to Norwich, and I feel more
obliged by your not delaying it long after, than I can easily
express. Your amiable, modest manners, joined to talents
far beyond the pretensions of most women, attracted me
immediately ; and all I have seen of you, permit me to say,
has so confirmed this first bias, that I do feel a sincere wish
to continue to cultivate the acquaintance I have so happily
begun. * * * I believe you enjoy gay scenes, and what
is called pleasure, with somewhat yet of pristine vivacity.
May it fulfil your hopes or wishes whatever they are ! * *
Poor dear Lady Cork s activity in pursuit of amusement
is a pleasant proof of vivacity and spirit surviving youth. I
think, however, small plays seldom succeed with an English
audience ; " la vache qui trotte" is Rousseau s simile for
French music, and may be applied to John Bull s facetious
and playful humours quite as well ; but he does very well at
a concert, where some must be quiet, and I envied you that
evening you described so well. * * *
Our best bookseller here has fallen into a state of epilepsy ;
his shop is closed, and we shall await the arrival of your last
publication with impatience, through the common channel;
but I think you should not have awaited Lady C. s inter
ference to mention its being published by subscription ; as I
should be happy to be considered as your friend. Neglect
me so no more, I request, in this way ; begin a good, long,
Clarissa-like novel ; you have principles and fancy to compose
an elevating and interesting work, and a knowledge of the
manners of the world, which Richardson wanted. Write
now all the summer, and let there be no episodes, no under
plot, but give me a character, acting and developing itself
under a variety of circumstances, to interest my feelings and
exert my understanding ; and set her feet on English ground,
and let us not have mystic notions, or Asiatic refinements, to
perplex our intellects, too well braced by this northern
138 MEMORIALS OF THE
temperature to sympathize with mysteries, embroideries, and
odours, or start at every creaking hinge in an old castle.
Miss Owenson, whom I saw in Dublin, tells me she is
writing a Hindostan tale. Let s keep plain English for
yours; and believe me, in its full sincerity, your faithful
servant,
C. L. CHARLEVILLE.
The following letter from Mrs. Inchbald appears
to have been written in the winter of this year (1809.)
Its only date is Wednesday, 7th December.
MY DEAR MKS. OPIE,
I thank you much for your letter, and
especially for your consideration in telling me the secret of
Mr. Barbauld s death ; for contemplation is my great source
of entertainment, and the events of the day kindly afford me
almost as much as I require.
I certainly think Buonaparte has acted, in the affairs of
Spain, with less honour to his name than upon all former
occasions; yet he was compelled to protect his firm ally,
Charles IV., and to punish the criminal Prince who drove
his parents from their throne, and imprisoned them. Still,
you will say, why did he not replace Charles ? The people
of Spain would not have suffered his return ; and, no doubt,
many of the first importance invited Buonaparte to take the
government. That he did so by artifice, I can only excuse,
upon the supposition that he meant thus to spare the people
all that calamity, which open violence must now draw upon
them. No doubt his reign would have been a blessing to
them, would they at first have submitted. But now the
avenger is the character he must take, and we shall have to
lament another nation, added to the number of those, on
whom we have forced him to draw his sword.
I have not been from London yet, and I purposely did not
date my letter, because I wished to have no presents this
year, and had not time to explain why. My sister has been
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 139
very ill again, and is in that kind of weak state, that she now
never comes to see me, and I fear much that the winter may
prove fatal to her. She always partook of your presents,
and I had rather not be reminded of the loss I feel from
the want of her occasional visits, by having any feasts during
her absence.
Poor Godwin is a terrific example for all conjugal
biography; but he has marked that path which may be
avoided, and so is himself a sacrifice for the good of others.
His name I now see added to his library advertisements. The
title of Miss Owenson s new work has something very
charming in it. " Ida of Athens." I have not yet been able
to read any of her novels. I am now reading Leo the X.,
by Roscoe. War, religion, laws, and elevated mankind are
my delight, for among them I increase my love for politics of
the present day, and find that our great enemy is less wicked
than most heroes and politicians have been ; at the same time
a vast deal wiser than them all.
With my best respects to Dr. Alderson,
Dear Madam,
E. INCHBALD.
In the spring of the following year Mrs. Opie was
in London, and it seems to have been from this time
her established custom to pay an annual visit to the
metropolis. The spring of 1810 was a stirring one,
and she, who so dearly loved (as she says) to have a
peep at the busy world, has given in one of her
reminiscences of this period, a short account of a
dinner party at Lady Elizabeth Whitbread s, the day
after the removal of Sir F. Burdett to the Tower. The
Government had been obliged to have recourse to the
Speaker s warrant, to obtain legal entrance into Sir
F. s house, which he had purposely barricaded, being
140 MEMORIALS OF THE
determined to resist what he thought an unjust
sentence.
I went (she says) to the dinner in Dover Street, full
of hope that I should hear at that table some interesting
conversation relative to these peculiar circumstances, for it
was a time of no common excitement, as great fears of a
popular tumult had gone forth, and I had myself seen, with
a sensation difficult to describe, cannon planted in Hanover
Square at this period, as I returned late from a party to my
lodgings in Prince s Street ; and soldiers were watching by
their guns. (I think I am correct in speaking in the plural
number.) My expectation of hearing the subject of Sir
F. B. s arrest discussed, was increased, when I saw of whom
the party assembled round the dinner table consisted ; there
were no ladies present but our hostess, the Countess G., her
venerable mother, and myself; the gentlemen were Lord
King, and 1 think two whig M.P. s, members of the Lower
House, and also some gentlemen not in public life.
I was, however, disappointed, and learned to believe that
Members of Parliament hear too much of state matters when
there, to wish to discuss them in their hours of relaxation,
as the only allusion made to the event of the preceding day,
was this. The master of the house found it a difficult, and,
for some time, an impossible task, to open the hard rind of an
immense shaddock which stood before him, and said he must
give it up in despair. " He had better send for the Speaker s
warrant," said one of the guests ; but this observation was not
heard, therefore it led to nothing. Amongst the evening
guests came Lady Roslyn ; and soon, engaged in the blood
less, but not pointless, strife of tongues, were lady R.,
J. W. Ward, the late Lord Dudley, W. Lyttleton, Sheridan,
and the ever welcome Sydney Smith.
Sheridan did not arrive till late, and when some of the
company, who yet remained, were seated at the supper tables,
to which he immediately repaired. Soon after, my attention
was forcibly arrested by his deep sonorous voice, exerted in
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 141
questioning, as if with a view to cross-examination, a very
handsome youth in a Greek dress, and who was by birth also
a Greek, according to his own shewing. This young man
was much in request in certain circles ; and his right to be
there, and to be acknowledged as what he declared himself to
be, would probably not have been questioned, had he not
chosen to wear this very peculiar and becoming dress. As
soon as I found what was going on, I went and stood by
Sheridan s elbow, and was amused by the extraordinary ques
tions by which he sought to discover the reality of the youth s
pretensions. I could not but feel for a youthful foreigner,
exposed to such an ordeal, inflicted by such a man, but he
seemed to bear it unmoved. At last Sheridan turned round
to us who stood behind him, and said, " A quack, nothing
but a quack."
Two years afterwards, I saw a young Greek of the same
name at another party, with whom I overheard Lord Byron
talking with great fluency, in what I was told was modern
Greek. The tones of Lord B. s voice were always so fasci
nating, that I could not help attending to them ; and when I
turned round to see with whom he was conversing, I thought
I saw the same face and person in an English garb, whom I
had seen in 1810, set off by a beautiful turban and a crimson
robe ; but I was told this was a brother of that youth, and I
never afterwards had an opportunity of ascertaining, with
accuracy, whether it was the same person or not ; yet I wished
to do so, in order to establish the truth or falsehood of the
charge of quackery which I had heard. If these youths were
brothers, it was very unlikely that either of them was a quack ;
and surely the harmless vanity of wishing to appear in his
own native costume, was not sufficient to authorize so severe
an appellation.
Be that as it may, of all the merry combatants in the strife
of tongues at the party to which I allude, Sydney Smith is
the sole survivor ! he is merry still, and the provoker of mirth
in others ; but perhaps, like me, when he feels his memory
crowded with the names of departed friends and associates,
142 MEMORIALS OF THE
an involuntary sadness comes over his mind, as it does over
mine, and I weep as I remember the exquisite and incom
parable lines of Moore
" When I remember all
Once linked in love together/ &c.
Lady Roslyn expressed a wish that when I visited Edinburgh
I would go to Roslyn, and that she might have the opportu
nity of shewing me its beauties. Alas ! when I went there
in 1816, she was in her grave, and I stood within the chapel
on the stone which covered her remains !
The autumn of this year found Mrs. Opie once
more at her favourite Cromer ; and her stay appears
to have been prolonged to an unusual extent ; so that
one of her friends, writing to her in the month of
December, speaks of sending a second Ulysses in
search of the truant. There is an allusion in this
letter which seems to intimate that it was not faute
de solicitations that she remained a widow ; and it is
evident that at subsequent periods she received simi
lar addresses. Turning, however, a deaf ear to such
proposals, she continued diligently to use her pen ;
and in the spring of 1812 published " Temper," a
tale, in which she diverged from the pathetic style of
writing she had hitherto most affected, and evidently
aimed more, in the character of a moralist, at prac
tical usefulness ; and happily with pleasing evidence
of success. In the third volume of this work, Mrs.
Opie carries her heroine to Paris, and introduces the
very scenes which she records in her journal of her
own Parisian trip the visit to the Louvre her own
words on being told the First Consul was expected to
pass the scene that followed, &c.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 143
The following extract from a letter she received
after the publication of this work, affords a pleasing
evidence of its beneficial influence.
November 14th, 1812.
You have, my dear Mrs. Opie, shown such clear discern
ment of what is good and virtuous, and exhibited reason and
conscience, as triumphant over the passions, with so masterly
a pen, in your late publication, that it has carried with it the
suifrage of many a young and amiable mind.
My daughter may perhaps have told you what effect your
book had, upon a young married lady whom she chanced to
meet. " I have read," said she, " Mrs. Opie s f Temper, I
hope to my lasting improvement; certain I am that it has
shewn me many of my faults, and, I trust, has taught me to
overcome them." By the pleasure this gave me, I can judge,
in some degree, my dear Madam, of the pleasure it must
afford you ; for I think there cannot be a greater, than to
fortify the young in habits of virtue ; and when you consider
these volumes, you may exclaim, with more propriety than
Sheridan did, " that on the review of his publications, nothing
gave him such great, such inexpressible pleasure, as the
thought that he had never written one word derogatory to
the cause of virtue." * * *
In the following year (1813) appeared the " Tales
of Real Life ;" they were published (unlike her former
works) without a paragraph, introductory or dedica
tory. There is, as usual, much inequality in the
merits of the various stories composing the series ;
" Lady Anne and Lady Jane" occupies the whole of
the first volume, and is, perhaps, on the whole, equal,
or superior, to any tale she wrote. The one entitled,
" Love and Duty," was a favourite with herself.
144 MEMORIALS OF THE
In a former chapter, reference has been made to an
interview Mrs. Opie had with Lord Erskine, at the
house of Madame de Stael during this year ; she has
given another short account of an evening visit to
that celebrated woman, which we subjoin:
I had been spending the evening at a soiree, given by
Madame de Stael, during the year 1813, which was par
ticularly interesting, from its having been composed chiefly
of the elite of London society. That admirable man,
W. Wilberforce, had been among the dinner guests, but was
gone before I arrived ; there were, however, many still left,
some of whom threw over the circle the spell of beauty, and
others that of their high talents. Lady Crewe, Lord Dudley,
William Spencer, the Mackintoshes, the Eomillys, were
among the brilliant group, who, witty themselves, were the
cause of wit in others ; and, while they grouped around her,
called forth the ever-ready repartees, and almost unrivalled
eloquence, of our hostess. She had recently left the court
of Bernadotte, and from time to time indulged herself in
descanting in his praise. At length she produced a portrait in
miniature of her favourite, painted in profile; and, when it had
gone round the greater part of the circle, she put it into the
hand of Sir Henry Englefield, well known as a man of virtu,
science, and taste for the fine arts ; and, while she stood by
the side of the chair on which he was indolently lounging,
she evidently awaited, with much anxiety, the result of his
examination. Carefully and long did he examine the paint
ing, and then, holding it up to the light which hung near
him, he observed with a slow distinct utterance, and in rather
loud voice, " he is like a ferocious sheep !" on which, uttering
an exclamation of justy indignant surprise, Madame de
Stael snatched the miniature from him, and turned hastily
away. I turned away also, for I could not help smiling
because, though displeased at Sir Henry s want of courtesy
I felt the truth of the remark; for / had examined
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 145
the picture, and seen, with no admiring eye, the long
projecting nose, and the receding chin, so truly the profile
of a sheep ; the eye, too, was black, but it did not, like
a sheep s eye, resemble a blockhead when seen sideways;
on the contrary, it was bright and piercing, as a friend would
have said, but it was easy for an enemy of the Swedish
Prince (and such I concluded Sir H. was) to have called the
expression ferocious. But the incident and its effects were
soon forgotten ; and the circle had not lost its charm, when,
reminded by a pendule of the lateness of the hour, I had
placed myself near the door, and was watching an opportu
nity to retire unseen, as the door opened ; and unannounced,
and unattended, a shortish, middle-sized, and middle-aged
man entered the room, and, finding himself unobserved, did
not advance further than where I was. I was struck by the
plainness of his dress and his unpretending appearance,
altogether, yet his manner was dignified rather than otherwise ;
and I was wondering who he could be, when our hostess
saw him, and ran up to him with a degree of delighted yet
respectful welcome, which instantly proclaimed him to be
somebody. In a short time he was seen by others, and he
had soon a little court around him ; but who he was I could
not yet discover; however, I delayed my departure, and
joining the circle, heard him converse with a simplicity
consonant to his manner and appearance.
At length I heard him addressed "votre Majeste," and I
could not forbear to ask who this royal stranger was, and
learned that it was the king of the Netherlands, who was
awaiting, in our country, a change of things in his favour in
his own. Little, probably, did he, or any of those present,
imagine that change was so near ; but, before the year came
round, Buonaparte was at Elba ! His changes of fortune,
however, were not yet over : when I saw him he was King
of the Netherlands; and, soon after, became their restored
king ; but had I seen him again in the year 1835, I should
have beheld him deprived of half his dominions, and only-
King of Holland !
146 MEMORIALS OF THE
CHAPTER XI.
LETTERS OF MES. OPIE TO DE. ALBEESON, WBITTEN DTJBING HEK
VISIT IN LONDON IN THE YEA.E 1814.
" IN 1814, the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia,
and other royal and distinguished foreigners were, as
everybody knows, in London," says Mrs. Opie, in one
of her reminiscences of the scenes she witnessed at
that stirring time ; for she was there, in the very
midst of all the gaiety and whirl. Many of the
letters she wrote home to her father, during her three
months stay in London at this time, have been
preserved, and we give them almost entire.
11, Orchard Street, Portman Square,
2 1st May, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
You would be sure that, so tempted, I should
go to Hudson Gurney s, and I did. The company consisted
of Lady Nelson, Mrs. Forbes, her daughter, Lady James
Hay, Armine and Edmund Wodehouse, M. Bland, Mr.
Maltby, his wife s nephew, just returned from the army,
Mr. Hume, of the India House, Dr. Southey, and Frank
Morse : I was so fortunate as to sit between the two
Wodehouses. I must tell you a bon mot of Dudley North s
which was told me. " Sheridan, (said Dudley N.) I hear you
are coming forward for Westminster again." (l Pho ! replied
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 147
he, if I were, I am sure I must be wound up again." "And
if you were wound up (returned D. N.) you would go on as
usual, tick-tick-tick."
The Prince has sunk himself in the mud, with all parties,
by his endeavour to get to himself the exclusive privilege of
inviting all the royalties, that he might exclude his wife, the
Princess of Gloucester, and the Dukes of Sussex, Kent, and
Gloucester. Lord Seyton had sent to give tickets to the
Princess, and on being pressed by Lord Yarmouth to recall
them, he replied, " Yarmouth, go and tell the Prince Regent
that I am no dancer, but that if the Princess of Wales will
do me the honour of dancing with me, I will open the ball
with her." This, Lord Montford told me, as a fact, on
Thursday evening. At Boodle s, on the Prince s applying
for the same privilege as at White s, they voted three to one
against him. Lord M. added, that if, as she is likely to do,
goaded as she is, (silly woman !) she goes to White s, and is
refused admission, it is probable that the populace may take
her part, and endanger the house. For my part, I see no
necessary difference between the conduct proper for a royal
wife and a wife in a private station ; and as a public brawl
between an angry wife and a brutal husband would excite
just indignation in private life, I cannot do otherwise than
consider the Princess as violating her duty, however great her
wrongs, by exposing herself to insult, and her husband also,
by persisting to do what is disagreeable to him ; let her take
care to fulfil her own duties, and she will meet what she
deserves, the respect and pity of every one. But I believe
her to be a weak vixen, or at least that she loves to teaze the
Prince.
Next day, in the evening, the L. M.s came and took me
to the Hamiltons ball. We went late, and found the rooms
so crowded, that we took our station on the stairs, where Lady
Montford joined us, and talking occasionally to Edward,
Tom, Lord M., and two or three other men, we made
ourselves amusement, till we thought Mrs. H. thought us
acting fine, so then we entered the hot room, where we staid
148 MEMORIALS OF THE
till the carriage got up, and then came away, though the
H.s said they would not forgive us if we did not stay to
supper ; but I was more fit to be in bed, having then, and
now, a crying cold, that is most trying, and makes me look
like an owl. Yesterday I went out with Mrs. Guriiey and
left some cards. In the evening I went to Miss White s,
(having dined at home on eggs and coffee) where I found
some rank, talent, and odd looking notoriety and ability.
Lady Mackintosh asked me to dine there on Monday, and
Mrs. Philips, to a party, on Wednesday ; but business and
duty take me to Mitcham on Monday for two or three days.
Just as Lady M. turned away from me, a young man who
had been talking to her said to me, " that odd looking man
yonder is a distinguished character ; that is Mr. Gallatin, the
American commissioner." " So Lady Mackintosh told me. *
" I told you," he replied, " because we all like to have lions
pointed out ; I shall do him the same kindness, for I shall
point you out to him." " You are very obliging," said I,
making him a low curtsey, and thinking I had never seen any
thing so impudent since the days of Mr. Hirst, and wondering
who he could be. " For my own part," continued he, " I am
remarkable for being, what you may think is not very
remarkable in this great city, namely, a very impudent fellow,
in thus introducing myself to you." I laughed, but would
not ask his name of himself. I asked it of Lady M., and
found him to be a Mr. Cullen, son of Dr. Cullen. Farewell !
till Wednesday, and pray write and let me know all about
you. A. OPIE.
Mitcham, 25th May, 1814.
Mr DEAR FATHER,
I wonder much I have not yet heard from you ;
it is now ten days since I heard of or from home !
On Sunday C. breakfasted with me, and we went to
Bedford Chapel to hear S. Smith preach ; Mrs. H. C. saw
us in the aisle, and took us into her pew. We had an
excellent sermon, but, enire nous, I saw C. nearly asleep
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 149
several times. She said she liked the sermon exceedingly,
but I am sure she did not hear some fine parts. (There s
Ella Koberts taking off a little dog howling or barking, so
like nature that I have been calling her a little howling puppy ;
the noise a dog makes when his toe is trodden upon is most
admirable. * * * * She has now exhausted herself so much
with the fatigues of her canine madness, as she calls it, that
she is quiet, and I stand a chance of finishing my letter
in peace.)
My levee on Sunday w?,s rather splendid, consisting of
twenty-seven persons, who (men excepted) chiefly came in
carriages. These carriages succeeded each other so quickly,
that the servants asked my servant what was to be seen at
No. 1 1 ; and when he said " a lady," they answered, u what,
is she ill ?" My cousin came first, and told me his brother
had been in town, and had often talked of visiting me, and
when he returns I am to see him.
The next day I took a coach, and came to Mitcham ! a sad
arrival ! But, as you may suppose, the freshness of grief was
all mine, and it became my duty to conquer the expression of
it as soon as possible ; but I am only now in my usual
spirits. * * * We are very comfortable together ; there is
too, here, the nicest set of children ; we had them all in last
night, and we played at magical music, and I made myself
hoarse with singing through a comb.
Upon my word I shall be very savage if I don t hear from
you, and of the romans, alias romances or novels, in
Pottergate Street and St. Helen s. * * * Of all things in
the world, truth and ingenuousness, the foundation of all
virtue, are the rarest. Farewell ! till Saturday.
A. OPIE.
Tuesday, 31st of May, 1814.
I begin my letter to day, my dear father, as I shall
probably be hurried to-morrow. * * * On Sunday Tom went
with me to hear S. Smith at Baker Street chapel ; and
luckily a friend of Tom s, hearing him say I was coming,
150 MEMORIALS OF THE
secured a place for me with a friend of his. This gentlemau
went home with us, and I was amused by his account of
Spurzheim, the lecturer on Craniology, whom I am going to
meet at Dr. Busk s. * * * * I had a very pleasant morning,
for my court, as L. M. calls it, was full and agreeable.
Rollis, Busks, Mr. Blair, Hamiltons, a new acquaintance
they brought, a Mr. Bainbridge, Mr. Kingston, Mrs. C.
Hanbury and her daughter, &c. At dinner I met Lady
Cork, Professor Spurzheim, Tenant, Dr. Rogier, or Roget,
(I forget which it is) and a young surgeon who is crani-
ology mad. Tenant talked all dinner, and in no way was
the philosopher called out. I thought this very rude and
English, and so did Lady Cork ; therefore when the gen
tlemen joined us, she seated herself by Mr. Spurzheim,
and began to talk to him of his art. I joined them;
and he was explaining to me his ideas of the brain, when
my ideas were distracted, and my brain rendered wool
gathering, by the arrival, not of a very large importation of
clever men and women, but of Dr. Brown, the Dr. Brown,
professor and lecturer on moral philosophy, the successor of
Dugald Stuart, the Edinburgh Reviewer, and the recondite
reviewer of Mrs. Opie, in the first number of that celebrated
work. He came with the L. M.s, and was soon presented
to me. I recollected L. M. s character of him, that he liked
faire le galant, vis-a-vis des dames, better than to converse in
society, therefore I expected what I found, a flattering
Scotchman, and I could have broken my silly head, because
I felt fluttered while talking to him ; however, I recovered
myself at last, and, as I told Mr. Blair I would do, I
contrived to be civil in my turn, though he (Mr. Blair) assured
me he thought the philosopher quite conceited enough
already. I must leave oif, I am grie Wednesday,
1st June. Grieved for Henry Burrell I meant to say, but if
I had, I should have mourned foolishly, he being yesterday
alive and better: this is to me incomprehensible, unless,
which I hope cannot be the case, W. Burrell himself is ill. * *
To resume my Journal. I did contrive to say civil things
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 151
to Dr. Brown ; but the wonder of the crowd, and the persons
who sucked us all in turn into their vortex, were Professor
Spurzheim and Lady M. Shepherd. Her ladyship fairly
threw down the gauntlet, and was as luminous, as deep, as
clever in her observations and questions, and her display of
previous knowledge of Gall s theory and Hartley s, as any
professor could have been, and convinced me, at least, that
when Mr. Tierney said, of Lady Mary, she was almost the best
metaphysician he ever knew, and the most logical woman, by
far, he ever met with, he was probably right. The professor
looked alarmed, and put on his pins ; and Lady Mary began
her dialogue at ten, and it was not over at a little past twelve.
Dr. Brown listened occasionally, and with an anatomizing
eye, for he does not like literary women ; therefore a woman,
entering his own arena, must have called forth all his reviewer
bitterness. L. M. had assured Dr. B. our parties were
mixed ones, and nothing like science or learning displayed ;
and on his first introduction he meets with a scene like this !
On the llth I dine at L. M. s to meet Dr. Brown and
Lord Erskine, &c. When S. Smith breakfasts with me I
mean to ask Dr. B. also. Farewell ! I must conclude.
Dr. Brown has just called on me, uninvited and self-
introduced. He is gone again. Adieu !
4ih June, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I expect a frank from Mr. Heathcote every
minute. Last Tuesday was a miserable day, for it rained
hard ; my sense of duty made me keep my engagement, and
accompany Mrs. Parry to the speeches, at Harrow. Her
other friends left her in the lurch, and Mr. P. was too unwell
to go ; we dined at Harrow, at the Inn ; and I returned too
tired, unfortunately, to dress and go to Mrs. S. s assembly,
which was, I hear, very pleasant. Friday (yesterday) evening,
Lord Tamworth called on me; he arrived the day before,
and is come for a month to lodgings in the next street
(Somerset Street.) Mr. Eolls met Lord T. in the street and
152 MEMORIALS OF THE
asked him to an evening party of music, &c., at his house
yesterday evening; and when Lord T. arrived, we were a
complete Leamington party. Lord T. called on Lady Cork
yesterday to announce himself, and be ready for the dinner
she promised us. But alas ! she has fixed it for to-morrow,
and Lord T., Lord Erskine, and I, are engaged, and cannot
go ! I dine to-day at Mr. Philips , and go to Lady C s misses
and muffins in the evening; however, I must say, to Lord
T. s credit, that he is our only L. beau who looks here, even
better than he did there ; indeed, better, for he threw more
dignity into his air last night, and all the other men looked
comparatively vulgar. How I honour Lady N. Dr. O. had
the officious brutality to write her a letter of four sides, dis
approving Lord N. s goings on, and telling tales of him ; that
is, repeating scandal concerning him ; on which Lady N. said
to her lord, " I dare say N. you deserve all this and much
more, but it is an insult to a wife, for a man to dare abuse
her husband to her, and I shall write as follows," and she
wrote thus : " Sir, I conclude the time will come when you
will repent having written such a letter to me ; I return it
to you, that you may have the satisfaction of burning it
with your own hands ! " There s a wife for you I I brought
tears into her husband s eyes, by my praises of her.
On Monday, Doly and I walk over to dine at four, at
cousin Briggs , and I am not yet engaged in the evening. I
went yesterday to pay visits; I found Lady Shepherd at
home, and as friendly as ever; but she sees less of her
charming husband than before, even. I found Lady Mary
also at home, and she wanted me to go thither in the evening,
but I was engaged. She was nervous about her display
on Sunday last ; but I assured her she was thought to talk
well, though I could have added, but not by Dr. Brown.
By the bye, I had only just sealed my letter to you when
Dr. Brown came in uninvited; he apologised for his impu
dence in coming, we shook hands, and I found myself tete a
tete with an Edinburgh reviewer, and a lecturer on moral
philosophy ! However, I did not die of it, as I offered to
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE.
take him to Lady C. s pink party to-night, and her blue one
on the llth, and to the latter he will probably go. Lady
Mary Shepherd told me she had inquired, and the foundation
of my mysterious stranger, did really happen to her father s
eldest brother, Lord Dunmany, my Lord D. ; with this
addition, that when Lady D. s coffin arrived at Deal or
Dover, the first husband, in a sort of frenzy, stabbed the
coffin, that he might get a sight of his lost wife s face. I
find Joseph Gurney was gentleman-usher at the Meeting
to the Duchess of Oldenburg. I shall like to hear his
account of her. I will not seal this till the last moment. I
now recollect I might have sent my letter to be franked, but
then I must trust other people s servants.
11, Orchard Street, June 14th, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
* * * Margaret came, just before Doly and I
set off, and was glad to go to the concert, so I was easy. She
eats nothing but pudding or tart, and potatoes, and drinks only
water. She is a very fine creature, and has the most graceful
dignified carriage possible, and I assure you I like much to
have to shew her. Yesterday a party of us went to Franklin s,
the fruiterer s, in Pall Mall, to see the Emperor, &c., arrive,
and there we waited fruitlessly till near six, and to this hour
we know not when the royals arrived, but sure it is we were
all disappointed, high and low. While we were there, B. was
called out of the room by Mr. Franklin, who went backwards
and forwards into Carlton House, and he told him first that
the Prince was so afraid of an attack on his palace, that he
had, under a pretence of its being a guard of honour, gotten a
party of blues into the palace, and next he said, that the Prince
was so low and so nervous that they could not get him
downstairs, and that he would not go to meet the kings, and
declared he would not stir at all, or shew himself. Last
Saturday he was going out at the left-hand gate, but seeing
a crowd at it, he drew the string, ordered the gate to be
closed, and drove to the other; but by that time the mob was
154 MEMORIALS OF THE
there also, on which he ordered that to be closed, and went
out a backway. This shews how shattered his nerves are.
It seems strange that he should not have gone to meet the
kings now come, in the same way as he met the king of
France ; and as, whatever he may be, he has at least been
doing the honours of the country and of a sovereign well, I
am sorry that he is deprived of the only opportunity he has or
values, of appearing to advantage. Still, he has only himself
to blame in the first instance ; but I disapprove and dislike as
much the woman and the wife, who stirs up the nation against
her husband ; she violates her duties, I think, et Tun vaut bien
Tautre. Foolish vixen as she is ! if she stirs up a flame to
consume her husband, the same flame in the end must con
sume her ; let her look to that, and for that " even-handed
justice, which returns the poisoned chalice to one s own lips."
I enjoyed my day at H. Briggs much ; Doly and I walked
thither, and back again, at night. A night dark as Erebus ;
and the effect of the bright city, when we reached the bridge,
and St. Margaret s bells ringing a peal of expectation of the
Emperor, and the crowds of persons still gathering in hopes
of his arrival, had a most striking and novel effect.
Thursday, 9th. I resolved not to finish this letter, but get
a frank at Mr. W. Smith s, as I was going to attend Mrs. S. s
levee, and I am now expecting it by the morning post. One
knows not whom or what to believe ; but I now find that it
was the mob s breaking in to see old Blucher that so alarmed
the Prince that he sent for a guard ; and an aid-de-camp to
the Prince of Wurtemberg, a handsome young Prussian, told
me yesterday, that the Prince did go to meet them, and that
it was he that took them to London by the road, and a way
by which they were not expected. " Ah ! " said I, " Jest
qu il avoit peur" "Mais out, (repondit-il,) cest bien vrai;
Jest qu il avoit peur." But really of public things and people
you must know more than I can tell you, by the papers.
Yesterday, however, on our return from Mrs. Smith s, we
walked home by the Pulteney Hotel, and just in time to get
in amongst the crowd, and on a step, whence, in due time,
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 155
we saw the Emperor and his sister pass, in the Prince s state
coach. I only saw, however, his back, left arm, and curl.
But the king of Prussia, who followed, I saw perfectly ; and
he is a most interesting looking man. But we are all Emperor
mad, and from morn till eve the streets are thronged with
people and carriages, waiting patiently for hours, to see him
pass. Yesterday morning by ten, he was, with his sister, tete
a tete, at the British Museum; and a gentleman we know
saw him very near, and said he was like J. Smith.
We dined at Westmacott s and I sent Meg home, and went
to Lady Charleville s, where I found a large circle listening
to music, by Naldi, Chiodi, &c. ; to my glad surprise I was
kindly greeted by my old friend Lord Carysfort, whom
indisposition, of a severe kind indeed, has kept out of company
four years. There too I saw J. Smith, who repeated to me
a poem on H. Twisa s parodies, called " the mocking-bird,"
which is admirable ; he says Mr. Poole wrote the " who
wants me." When most of the company was gone, Lady C.
took the seat vacated by Lady Mornington, that mother of
great men, and it was next a venerable-looking blind woman,
whom Lord C. had previously pointed out to me as the once
celebrated beauty, Lady Sarah Lennox. She is now grey,
blind, and seems both by her voice and manner to be bowed
by various cares ; but perhaps I fancied this. No frank yet !
Just room and time to say I have seen, from head to foot,
and touched the Emperor. Other ladies touched his hand, I
squeezed his wrist only. I bribed the porter and got into
his hotel ! ! ! To-morrow, from a balcony, we shall have a
chance of seeing him again, and in safety. Adieu.
llth June, 1814,
MY DEAR FATHER,
Lest you should have thought me mad by the
conclusion of my last, I shall begin by giving you a full
explanation of it. The other morning Mrs. L. M. took me
and Margaret out in her carriage, and I persuaded her to
drive opposite the Pulteney Hotel; but other and heavier
156 MEMORIALS OF THE
carriages obstructed our view ; so I borrowed the servant, and
said, " I will try and get on the steps, and if I succeed, I will
send back for you." Accordingly, off I set, and was told by
the constables I must not stand on the steps ; however, the
men s hearts relenting, they told me, if I ran up and made
friends with the porter, perhaps I should get into the hall. I
took the hint, and opening the door, I accosted Cerberus,
who told me admission was impossible, but, tout en me
grondant, il avoit la bonte $ accepter une piece de trois chelins 9
que je lui mis dans la main, et il me permit d entrer. There I
found about ten ladies, one of whom, whose face I know as
well as my own, came up to me and said, " I m sure Mrs.
Opie you would be welcome to be here," and seating herself
by me, proceeded to discuss divers important matters, en
attendant the return of the Emperor from Carlton House.
At length he arrived, and we formed a line for him to pass
through. He was dressed in a scarlet uniform, (ours,) and
wore our blue ribband. His head is bald, his hair light, his
complexion is blond and beautiful, his eyes blue, his nose
flattish, with a funny little button end to it ; his mouth very
small, and his lips thin. His chest and shoulders are broad,
and finely formed, his manner graceful and dignified, and his
countenance pleasing; and he is the Emperor of all the
Russias, therefore, he is handsome, delightful, and so forth.
I said that we formed a line, and I, simple soul, meant to keep
it, but not so my companions ; for they all closed round him,
and one took one hand, one the other, and really I did not
know how far they meant to presume ; for my part, I dared
not, for some time, even think of touching him, but " evil
communications corrupt good manners," and at last, when he
was nearly past, I grasped his wrist, but the grasp would not
have crushed a fly. The lady who knew me, said to me,
when he was past, " what a soft hand he has." Lord Yar
mouth, who was with him, came afterwards, and talked with
that lady. What a fright he is !
Now to go back to Lady Sarah, who, as I said before, is
blind. * * * Lord Tullamore came to me, and said, " Now
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 157
almost all the company is gone, you will sing a little ballad."
I rose, and went to Lady Charleville. (< This," said she, " is
Lady S. Napier, will you sing her a ballad?" and, recol
lecting how ill I once used Lady C. in not answering a letter
of hers for three years, and eager to make amends, I said I
could not sing anything worth hearing, but I would try.
" Surely," said Lady Sarah, " that was injudicious ; Mrs Opie
would rather not have had the attention of the company
so loudly solicited." "Very true," replied Lady C., "but
your ladyship is always the best-bred woman in the world,
and I the worst, and I never see you without taking a lesson
in manners." * * * Well, after having beguiled my fear
a little, by inquiring of Lady S. after her sister, Lady Louisa
Conolly, I begun, and sung, " Nay, take it, Patty ,"* and
decently, considering. By Lady Sarah, was one of her sons,
who, with his brothers, was wounded in every engagement
abroad, and one of them taken up for dead. I never saw a
handsomer man ! I could not help looking at him ! He is
very black, with black moustachios, that make him look like
a picture of some young Venetian by Titian, and his manner
was so pleasing ! He has his mother s outline, enlarged into
manly beauty, and he has such fine dark eyes ! Thursday I
dined at the Maxwells , and liked my day. Sir James
Saumarez dined there ; a Mr. Lamb, M.P., and his wife
and son. Dr. Young, a Miss Caldwell, and Sir Nathaniel
Conant, the magistrate. I sat at dinner between Sir Nathaniel
and Mr. Lamb, and liked my companions much. I went
home at eleven, undressed, and robed myself to walk to see
the illuminations, with Margaret, Tom, and Mr. Barber.
We did not get home till three in the morning, and were not
in bed till four. Yesterday we staid at home ; I had refused
a dinner-party, and we kept quiet, and were in bed by half-
past ten.
This morning, by a little past eight, we were at the
* This ballad was called "The Soldier s Farewell," and was
composed by Mrs. R. Cumberland.
158 MEMORIALS OF THE
Pulteney Hotel, and in the hall. By ten the hall was very
full, so I placed my young companion on a table, and we
had a good view of the Emperor and his sister, who came in
arm-in-arm, and extended their hands graciously on either side ;
neither Margaret, however, nor I, had resolution enough to
take them; but two young women pressed forward, one on her
knee, and kissed his hand, which he drew back as if shocked or
ashamed, and I am sure I was, for I did not recognise my
country-women in such forwardness. M. touched his arm,
and I tried to touch the Duchess s hand, but had no chance
of success. She is very like him, but plain ; her nose plainer
than his, and though as fair, she has not his colour, but a
beauty would have been disguised by such dress ; an immense
Leghorn gipsy hat, with white feathers ; but they say her
manners are most captivating. Ask Joseph J. Gurney what
he thinks. To-day I dine at Lady Cork s in the evening.
Adieu!
The next letter in this series formed the material
for a paper which Mrs. Opie published in " Tait s
Magazine," February, 1844 ; at the close of that
article, she makes a few reflections, which will be of
interest to the reader, as shewing the feelings with
which she looked back upon those scenes of earlier
days:
I had dined (she says) that day in company with Lord
Erskine, and the lamented Dr. Brown, of Edinburgh, the
professor of moral philosophy, at the house of my dear
and highly valued friend J. G. Lemaistre, (now, alas ! no
more,) and I had finished the evening in a party, more than
usually marked by interesting incidents and conversation.
Yet I fear I have not said much in favour of those gay and
busy scenes in which I once moved, by confessing myself so
highly gratified by what I have been describing ; still I
cannot retract my words : pleased and grateful I was it
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 159
might perhaps be a weakness in me to feel so ; but I cannot
be so disingenuous as not to own it to its full extent.
The original Letter bears date the 16th.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I really could not write yesterday, so I got a
frank, that to-day I might write a great deal; but I have
seen so much, and seem to have so much to say, that I know
not where to begin. On Saturday last I met at dinner Lord
Erskine, Sir John Sinclair, Dr. Brown, his brother, the
mayor, &c. I sat between Dr. B. and Lord E. ; but the
peer, by his very agreeable though incessant egotism, and tales
of himself, intermingled with interesting anecdotes of the
Emperor Alexander, rather seduced my attention away from
the philosopher. Rarely have I seen Lord E. more amusing,
but Sir J Sinclair was new to me, and I wanted to hear him.
So it was really " Tembarras de richesses" for any one of these
three lions would have been enough at once. In the evening
came an addition to the company, but Lord E. and I went
away to Lady Cork s ; the professor was tired and would not
go, though I got Lord E. to offer to take him. Had it not
been for my sacred vow never to break an engagement, I
should have gone to the opera to see the royalties, which was,
I hear, the finest sight of the sort ever seen. At Lady C. s I
found Mrs. Harvey, (the author of many novels, and latterly
of the excellent one of Amable,) James Smith, the Bodding-
tons, Professor Spurzheim, Monk Lewis, Horace Twiss,
Lord and Lady Carysfort, Lord Limerick, Miss White, Lord
Cumbermere and his betrothed, Miss Greville and her sister,
Lady Caroline Lamb, just as ever, and doing her possibles to
amuse this very small party, in three large rooms, thrown
open for Blucher, who was expected ; but the opera had spoiled
the party, for Greys, Lansdownes, and Whitbreads, had
intended being there. Past midnight, however, some came in
from the opera, and broke up our conversation, which had
been pleasant ; for Lady Carysfort had been very entertaining
with accounts of Berlin, and Lord Limerick very eloquent
160 MEMORIALS OP THE
in describing the preparations for White s ball, so vast and
so elegant as to make me very curious, because I shall not
see them. However, perhaps I shall escape being burnt alive,
for the same decorations exposed Prince Schwartzenberg s
palace to that fire in which his wife was burnt ; as the pillars
are all made of fluted muslin, to represent alabaster ; and the
capitals of rose-coloured ditto.
But, to return on the entrance of Miss Fox, (Lord Hol
land s sister,) and Miss Vernon, a new subject of interest was
started; for they brought the astonishing intelligence, that
the emperor, and the king, and lastly the regent, had bowed
to the princess ! No, I am wrong Some one else asserted
the fact, and they said it was equivocal, or that he might be
said to have bowed either to the pit or the princess. Oh ! the
glorious uncertainty of reports, even from eye-witnesses !
Well, there we were, all on the gui vive first one came in,
then another, and the first question was " Well what do
you say ? Did the prince bow to the pit, or the princess ?"
and, as you may suppose, no two persons gave the same
statement. " See," said I, to Lady C. Lamb, " how difficult
it is to ascertain the truth !" "Aye, indeed," she replied, "it
teaches us to receive all reports doubtingly;" she added,
" still the historian will describe this as it really was, and he
will be overruled by the majority of voices on the subject."
" If that be the way of judging," thought I, " then the prince
did bow to the princess, for the majority were in favour of
it," but I shall insert here, though not in its turn, that the
princess herself told S. Smith, who told me, that he did not
bow to her, nor was there any strong ground for fancying it.
To resume my narration the company had begun to dis
perse, and no Blucher came, when, to keep up Lady Cork s
spirits, Lady C. L. prepared to act a proverb, but it ended
in their acting a word ; and she, Lady Cork, and Miss White,
went out of the room, and came back digging with poker
and tongs. To be brief, the word was orage : they dug for or,
and they acted a passion for rage, and then they acted a
storm, for the whole word, orage.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 161
Still, the old general came not, and Lady Caroline
disappeared; but, previously, Mrs. Wellesley Pole and
her daughter had arrived, bringing a beautiful Prince
Prince Leopold, of Saxe Coburg; but saying she feared
Blucher would not come. However, we now heard a distant,
then a near, hurrah; and a violent knocking at the door.
The hurrahs increased, and we all jumped up, exclaiming,
" There s Blucher at last !" and the door opened, the servant
calling out, " General Blucher ;" on which in strutted Lady
Caroline Lamb, in a cocked hat and a great coat ! In
the meanwhile, Lord Hardwick had arrived from the British
Gallery, where he had been in attendance on the Princess
Charlotte, the Grand Duchess, &c., and t9 him Lady
Caroline went, with clasped hands and lifted eyes, saying
she was come to ask the greatest favour it was that
he would give her some money. " What for ?" " Oh !
to pay the servants for that pretty hurrah, they did it so
well!" So poor Lord H. gave her a dollar; looking, I
thought, rather silly at having his pocket so gracefully
picked; and Lady C. ran downstairs delighted. So end
the adventures of yesterday. Sunday I heard Mr. Moore
preach, and admirably. Mrs. L. M. took me to the
crowded drive; and though we did not see the kings, we
saw Blucher very near. We dined with the L. M.s, and in
the evening went to Miss White s, where, after talking some
time to a gentleman who knew me, though I did not know
him, I found it was Sir William Dunbar, that interesting
Captain Dunbar I have seen at Norwich. He is very odd,
but clever. I forgot to say that I had a very crowded levee,
where, again, every one told me a new story of the Prince s
bow, and all were equally positive I *
(Rest of letter lost.)
22nd of June, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I have not time to write much, but I will write
as it is my day ; and I have to acknowledge the receipt of the
parcel. Pray let me have two pairs of black boots made as
M
162 MEMORIALS OF THE
soon as possible ; mine are quite worn out, and the filthy
weather does not allow of my wearing light ones. I can t
wait. * * Thursday, eleven o clock. Thus far I had
gotten yesterday at half past four o clock, when Lord Tam-
worth, and Mrs. L. M. after him, came in and interrupted
me, and I was forced to turn the latter out, that I might
dress to go to Mackintosh s to dinner, at six oV-lock ; but I
consoled myself by the certainty of getting a frank. I will
now go on to that of which my mind is most full, namely,
my yesterday s dinner ; which it was almost worth coming up
to town on purpose to be at. I got to M. s at six, the hour
appointed ; found no fire, alas ! and no one to receive me ;
happily soon after arrived Mr. Wishawe, horror struck at no
fire, and saying in all civilized houses there must be one in
such weather ; but he warmed himself and me by inveighing
against poor Lord Cochrane s pillory, which all the lawyers,
and all London, I hope, disapprove. How unwise too ! for
it leads us to forget his fault in his punishment but this is
by the by. Next arrived Dr. Brown, whom I presented
to Wishawe. Then came Lady M., and then Sir James,
and I found three different hours for dining had been named
to the different guests; and Mr. W. and I anticipated
hunger being added to cold. Next came Play fair, then
llichard Payne Knight, then John William Ward, just come
from Paris, and lastly, at about half past seven, the great
traveller, and so forth Baron de Humboldt ; he was not
presented to me, therefore I could not ask whether he, or his
brother, brought my letter from Helen Williams ; and to
dinner we went, Ward handing me, so I sat by him, and on
my other hand was Mr. Knight. I certainly never saw so
many first-rate men together ; but again it would have been
Tembarras de richesses with me, had not each person been a
whetting-stone to the wit and information of the other.
Politics, science, literature, Greek, morals, church govern
ment, infidelity, sects, philosophy, characters of the Emperor
of Russia, King of Prussia, of Blucher, of PlatofF, given in
a clear and simple manner by the Baron, and commented on
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 163
by others, formed the never flagging discourse, throughout
the dinner. I did not talk much, as you may guess, for I
had scarcely ears enough to listen with. Ward was more
charming and more maliciously witty, more Puck-like than
I had seen him for years; and what he did not choose to
venture aloud, he whispered in my ear more agreeable than
polite; but once I caught myself in an argument with
Mr. Knight, and I trembled at my own temerity. Talk
across the table, I could not have done ; but Mr. K. was my
neighbour, and none but he heard my daring. I will give
you one of Ward s sarcasms ; but an unusually good natured
one, as it would flatter, not wound, the persons at whom it
was aimed. " I hear (said I) you returned from Paris with
a Cardinal." "Yes, the Cardinal Gronsalva, and I had the
great satisfaction of putting him at length under the pro
tection of a Silesiari Jew." " Not being able (said Sir James)
to find any Scotch philosophers at hand to take his place."
"But had there been any Scotch philosophers at hand to
consign him to, I should still have preferred the Jew, because
I know there would be some chance of his converting the
Jew" The philosophers present laughed ; and this introduced
a curious discussion on infidelity. * * (Enter the Baron
de Humboldt to breakfast with me, and then I take him to
Mrs. Siddons.) Alas! it was no Baron so I may go on.
Ward saw Lafayette at Paris; almost the only man of a
revolution who has survived one, and lived to enjoy life.
He owned to me he did not care to see him ; for in his
opinions on such a subject, he was too much of a Burkite, to
relish seeing Lafayette. De Humboldt spoke highly of him,
and mentioned with pleasure, as a proof of tolerance of
opinion, that Lafayette has always been beloved and associ
ated with, by persons of totally opposite opinions to his own ;
and has been enriched by them at their death : lately, he has
acquired much by the death of Monsieur de Lusignan, whom
I once knew very well. * * Here is the Baron indeed!
He is very charming ! So full of information, and so simple
in his manner of giving it. *
M 2
164 MEMORIALS OP THE
Two o clock. I have lived more in two or three hours
to-day than I usually live in a month. I have been to Peru,
to Mexico, climbing the Table Mountain, besides hearing
much on all subjects, amusing, instructive, and interesting.
This charming Chamberlain of Frederick William (I mean
the King of Prussia) goes to-day ; but I am to see his
brother, who is now appointed ambassador from Prussia to
France, on Sunday certainly, if not before.
(Rest of letter lost)
Thursday, July 1st, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I would not write yesterday, that I might
acknowledge the receipt of the parcel to-day. I had no idea
they could all come together, meat and clothes. Gregory is
not a Catholic. We may go in fancy dresses, but all must
wear a mask ; though no one is forced to assume a character-
The verses I sent you were tame enough; but those I have
since written, if I had not been forced to introduce the
name of Wellington, with my own approbation, and at the
suggestion of a very good critic, (Col. Barry,) are tolerably
good, I think. Mrs. B. S. has undertaken to sing them, and,
if she can t adapt, to set them herself. Lady Cork has given
me a most beautiful trimming for the bottom of a dress
which I am to wear on the 4th. It is really handsome ; a
wreath of white satin flowers worked upon net.
Our day on Tuesday was delightful, the scene enchanting.
My favourite companion there was Sir William Dunbar,
more odd, but more amusing and original, than ever. Still,
however pleasant the people at Fulham, M. and I enjoyed
the drive to and fro, more than the day itself. James Smith
went with us, and he sang funny songs, and repeated epigrams
and bon mots all the way there. While waiting in the hall
for the carriage, (for we wisely came away at eleven,) he
gave us an extempore comedy ; and, when in the carriage, on
my telling him that Sir W. Dunbar had told me he was
blase with everything, and that he was a disappointed man ;
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 165
he said ; " It is evident that he is so ; I dare say there is
something interesting and particular in his story ; suppose I
invent one for him." So off he set, and gave us three letters
of a novel in letters, and, without pausing a moment, begin
ning, " Sir W. Dunbar to General Evelyn. When we last
parted, my dear General, I was in the prime of life ; every
hope full of vigour," &c., &c., and during the last mile or
two, he relieved the monotony which was stealing over all
this, by quotations from Young and Swift, well remembered
and well repeated. Certainly, never did a man so completely
pay, by his brains, for a seat in a carriage. I persuaded
Edward to dance with Miss M., having vainly tried to
persuade Sir W. D., though he owned her to be very pretty,
as did Edward. We left them dancing. The baron, William
de Humboldt, was forced to attend Lord Castlereagh in a
conference of nine hours, yesterday ; therefore he wrote me
an elegant note of excuse for not going to see Mrs. Siddons
with me, calling me " Mademoiselle Opie ;" no doubt from
my juvenile appearance. So we walked over to tell Mrs.
Siddons this, and she was somewhat mortified ; but recovered
herself, and was most delightful. We staid two hours and
more, and we none of us knew how late it was. She said
she had passed a most happy two hours, and had no regrets.
M. came home raving all the way, saying she was the most
beautiful, delightful, agreeable, and, I believe, even the
youngest woman she ever saw ; and she has put up in paper,
the bud of a rose she gave her, to keep for ever. Yesterday
we dined at H. G. s, and went to the Maxwells in the
evening. Old Albinia, of Buckinghamshire, has made me
promise to go to her masquerade breakfast, and en masque.
I owe her this, for her kindness to me, when I sang to the
Prince. On Sunday we were to dine at the Solicitor-
General s, in Bloomsbury Square ; but it is now put off to
Sunday se nnight, at Wimbledon. As I was offered a ticket
for the ball to the Duke of Wellington for 4 7s., I accepted
the offer, and wrote my last commands to Lord Tamworth ;
so I hope I did not write too late to prevent the exchange.
166 MEMORIALS OF THE
I go full dressed, but no train, and high feathers ; with a pink
domino of calico, made high and long, to give me height and
disguise me, thrown over all, that I may be incog., and be
masked till I am tired, and then appear as myself. Mrs. P.
goes with us. I have had the kindest letter from Mr. Coke !
promising to do all he can for Mr. D., and entreating me to
visit him in the winter, whenever I choose.* I have just
room to insert the lines,
"Why sons of Britain rush ye forth
Like torrents from the mountain s heigh t.
To shout, untired, for foreign worth
And glad with foreign chiefs, your sight r
Can Britain boast no chiefs renown d,
"Whose arm can crush, whose heart can spare !
No Leader who, with conquest crown d,
Can wisely plan, and greatly dare ?
Yes, Britains, yes ! and now again
In shouts your myriad voices raise !
But louder, longer, be the strain
That speaks a grateful nation s praise.
For "Wellington now glads our sight,
Whose valour guards his Sovereign s throne,
He, in untarnish d glory bright;
And "Wellington is all OUK OWN !
I allude in the sixth line to the mercy he showed at
Toulouse. The Baron, Alexander de Humboldt, said to
me, " This certainly was the first man in Europe ! " and no
doubt, when party feeling is forgotten, he will be done justice
to. Farewell !
* Mrs. Opie visited Holkham in January, 1816, and wrote some
lines to Lady Anson on her birthday, while there.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 167
CHAPTER XII.
FRIENDSHIP "WITH THE GURNET FAMILY; TWO LETTERS FROM
MR. J. J. GURNEY; DEATH OF HIS BROTHER; MRS. OPIE S RETURN
FROM LONDON; EARLY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS; MRS. ROBERTS;
RECOLLECTIONS OF SIR W. SCOTT; VISIT TO EDINBURGH;
" VALENTINE S EVE;" VISIT TO MR. HAYLEY; " TALES OF THE
HEART;" LETTER TO MR. HAYLEY; LETTER FROM MRS. INCHBALD ;
HER DEATH.
FROM the gay and brilliant scenes depicted in the
preceding letters, Mrs. Opie was suddenly and pain
fully called away, by an event which excited deep
feeling in her heart, and which must have been
rendered more peculiarly distressing, by the contrast
in which it stood with all that had been occupying
her thoughts, during the months of her absence from
home.
Preserved with her letters of this date, there were
found two, of a very different character from her own,
addressed to her by a friend who was destined, in
after years, to exercise great influence over her
opinions and subsequent course; we speak of Mr.
J. J. Gurney, that highly honoured and admirable
man, whose friendship, thus early commenced, she
retained, with ever-growing satisfaction, until his
deeply -lamented death.
168 MEMORIALS OF THE
It may be remembered that Mrs. Opie, in one of
her early letters, speaks of " Elizabeth Fry," to whom
she had been paying a visit on occasion of her
marriage. They had been acquaintances in youth;
and, in the life of Mrs. Fry, there are occasional
allusions to visits paid by Dr. Alderson to Earlham,
the home of the Gurney family, when Elizabeth was
a gay and lively girl.* Shortly after Mrs. Opie s
marriage, Miss E. Gurney visited London, and in her
diary she records a day spent with " Amelia Opie,"
and says : " I had a pleasant time of it ; I called on
Mrs. Siddons, and on Dr. Batty, then on Mrs. Twiss ;
and, in the evening, Mr. Opie, Amelia,.and I, went to
the concert," &c.
After Mrs. Fry s marriage she was brought into
the society, almost exclusively, of strict " Friends,"
and there does not appear to have been much
intercourse between her and her early friend; but
when Mrs Opie returned to Norwich, on the death of
her husband, she resumed her former habits of
intimacy with the family at Earlham ; and found,
among the large and happy circle there, friends
whose influence had a beneficial effect upon her.
The youngest sister, Priscilla, who was a most lovely
creature, and who died in 1821, seems to have been
especially endeared to her; and Mr. J. J. Gurney
* The friendship between Dr. Alderson and the Gurney family
was indeed of very early date ; for when Mr. John Gurney, senior,
first hired Earlham, he invited Mr. and Miss Alderson to go and see
the place, which they did ; Mr. A. on horseback, and Miss, on her
little pony, by his side. They drank tea with Mr. G. in a room
afterwards known as the ante-room, the only place where there was
a seat to be had.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 169
said, that her friendship with this sister and himself,
appeared to be the principal means of producing that
gradual change of sentiment, which eventually led to
her joining the Society of Friends.
We are, however, anticipating the progress of
events. To return to the letters of which we have
spoken; we find, in the first of them, allusions to the
illness of Mr. Gurney s brother, whose death, which
followed a few weeks subsequently, was the cause of
Mrs. Opie s hasty return.
Norwich, 6th mo., 4th, 1814.
I have a mind, my dear friend, to write thee a letter ; this
is all the apology I offer for the intrusion. There are two
or three things I wish to say to thee ; the first is, that I
remember, with true pleasure, thy affectionate conduct to us
all, during the last few months of affliction. It has been like
that of a sister, and has been prized by us, I trust, as it ought
to be ; however thou mayest be engaged in the gay whirlpool
of London life, rest assured, therefore, thou art not forgotten
by thy retired friends at Earlham. I thank thee for thy last
note, which is an instructive inmate of my pocket-book, since
it bespeaks a tender conscience. Wilt thou pardon thy friend
if he tell thee, that he greatly admires this tenderness of
conscience with regard to all thou sayest of others? It
appears to him that thy mind is particularly alive to the
duties of Christian charity; and he now wishes to express
his desire that the sajne fear, (shall he call it "godly fear?")
may attend thee in all thy communications with the world.
To leave the third person ; I will refer to two texts, " Pure
religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this to
keep one s self unspotted from the world" and again, " Be ye
not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the
renewing of your minds, that he may know what is the good,
acceptable, and perfect will of God." Now, what wilt thou
say to me ? perhaps thou wilt say that thy countrified, drab-
170 MEMORIALS OF THE
coated, methodistical friend, knows nothing of the " world,"
misinterprets the meaning of the apostle, and is frightened
by the bugbear of a name, as a child is by a ghost.
There may be some truth in these observations of thine,
and I must allow that the world is not idolatrous now, as it
was then; and again, that we all alike are citizens of the world,
and there is no department of it which is not tinctured with
evil; but I refer particularly to the "fashionable world," of
which I am apt to entertain two notions the first, that there
is much in it of real evil ; the second, that there is much also
in it, which, though not evil in itself, yet has a decided
tendency to produce forgetfulness of God, and thus to
generate evil indirectly. On the other hand, there is little
in it, perhaps, which is positively good.
With regard to the apostolic precepts ; perhaps they
intimate that there are two spirits or dispositions, moving
amongst mankind ; the one celestial, leading to good ; the
other terrestrial, tending to evil; perhaps they are meant
to warn us, not literally against the world, but against a
worldly spirit. Now I will close my grave remarks, by
saying, that it is my earnest desire, both for thee and myself,
that we may be redeemed from a worldly spirit, and that in
our communications with the world, whether fashionable,
commercial, or common-place, we may be enabled simply to
follow an unerring guide within us, which will assuredly
inform us, if we will but wait for direction, what to touch and
what to shrink from what to follow, and what to eschew.
I returned home with Pris, last fourth day, and found my
dear brother considerably more feeble than when I left him ;
I think this may be owing, principally, to his having fallen
and hurt his knee, and to the confinement which the accident
has rendered necessary. Upon the whole we are much at ease
about him, and ought to be thankful whether we are so or no.
Do not be angry with me ; write me a letter ; and farewell,
in every sense of the word.
I remain, thy affectionate friend,
J. J. GUKNEY.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 171
The second letter (dated Earlham, 7th mo., 22nd,
1814) is much longer, arid as a large part of it will
be found inserted in the Life of Mr. Gurney, we shall
content ourselves with a few extracts taken from it.
After apologizing for " addressing something in the
shape of advice, to one so much older and more
experienced than himself," he says:
My chief desire is, that thou mayst be willing to give up
everything which the light of truth may point out as incon
sistent with the holy will of God. True happiness, here or
hereafter, can consist in nothing, but in conformity to that
will. The world has, undoubtedly, many pleasures to bestow,
perhaps none so great as that of being universally liked,
admired, and flattered ; but it is not in the world we are to
find that "peace which passeth understanding." It is striking
to observe the essential difference which exists between the
pleasures of the world, and the religious happiness of the soul.
The temporality of the former seems to be proved, by their
all being conveyed to us through our natural senses; but
" eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into
the heart of man to conceive the things which God hath pre
pared for those who love Him." How clearly one sees, all
the way through, that the one belongs to our mortal, the
other to our immortal part.
Thou wilt observe, my dear friend, that I have underscored
the words, "liked, flattered, and admired." It is because I
know thou art so; and, unless thou art of a very different
composition to thy friend, I am satisfied it must afford no
small temptations to thee, and require, on thy part, the
utmost stretch of watchfulness. I really should like to know
how thy mind was affected by Lady B. s day-masquerade.
Because, I am sure, that if I could sing and converse in that
way, and procured all manner of favour and applause, from
innumerable lords and ladies, I should be vain as a peacock
172 MEMORIALS OF THE
thereupon. Now, I confess, if thou art vain, thy vanity* does
not show itself; but it may be there is some lurking particle
of it in the bottom of thy heart, which may put thee to some
trouble. But mind, I do not want to draw thee to confession.
My dear brother has been a good deal weaker, especially
in mind, during the last fortnight ; but he continues full of
peace, and, I think I may add, of Christian love. Again and
again farewell, saith thy sincere and affectionate friend
J. J. GURNEY.
This brother, Mr. John Gurney, declined rapidly,
and early in September his death took place. In the
Life of Mrs. Fry this event is recorded ; and she
mentions in a letter dated from Earlham, whither she
had gone to take her leave of him, that on the last
morning of his life, Dr. Alderson had called and seen
him, and that he desired his love to Amelia Opie.
The second of her Lays for the Dead is addressed
to this " departed friend," and was written (as the title
to it informs us) after attending his funeral, in the
Friend s burying-ground at Norwich, having travelled
all night, in order to arrive in time.
It commences thus :
" Friend, long beloved ! on thy untimely bier
I came to drop the sympathizing tear ;
I came to join the long funereal train,
And heave the bitter sigh which mourns in vain."
From this period Mrs. Opie attended the religious
services of the Friends, and continued to do so until
she united herself to their communion, eleven years
after ; and in a note written the year of Mr. Gurney s
* Mrs. Opie has marked a large (!) against these words.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 173
death, to the writer of these memoirs, she says, " in
1814 I left the Unitarians."
It does not, indeed, appear, from any record of her
early days, nor from the recollections of her friends is
it ascertainable, that she, at any time, was in actual
communion with the Unitarian body. She was, in
her youth, in the habit of attending at the Octagon
chapel, where, during the ministry of Mr. Pendlebury
Houghton, Dr. Sayers, and Mr. William Taylor, and
others of similar opinions, attended, and highly
eulogised the sermons of that eloquent, though by no
means evangelical, preacher. When in London, it is
evident, from her letters, that Mrs. Opie went to
church, and did not act as a conscientious Unitarian
would, under the circumstances, have done ; and we
can hardly avoid the inference, that she had no very
fixed opinions on religious subjects, and that the mere
circumstances of her birth and education had occa
sioned her connexion with the Unitarians. From the
time, however, at which we have now arrived, she
ceased to attend the Octagon chapel ; and although
she did not at once embrace the religious opinions of
the Friends, nor sever herself from her former asso
ciates and pursuits, she gradually, but surely, yielded
to an influence to which she had hitherto been a
stranger, and experienced a progressive change in her
religious views.
Mrs. Opie, shortly after this time, edited a little
book, entitled " Duty," written by her friend Mrs.
lloberts, to which she prefixed a sketch of the cha
racter of the authoress. This sketch was published
separately in the " Gentlemen s Magazine," for 1815.
It is a pleasing tribute of affectionate regret, to the
174 MEMORIALS OF THE
memory of one whose friendship, she said, would
always be among the most pleasing recollections of
her life, and to have lost her so soon, one of her most
lasting regrets.
In the spring of the year 1816, Mrs. Opie paid her
usual annual visit to London ; and in her note book
has recorded her " recollections of Sir W. Scott,"
whom she then, for the first time, saw, or rather heard,
She had seen him on two or three previous occa
sions first, shortly after the publication of the " Lay
of the Last Minstrel," at the assembly of a widow
lady, in London ; but the crowd was so great that
she caught a very imperfect glimpse of him, merely
sufficient to tell her that " he wore powder and his
hair tied behind." The next time she saw the great
man was at a picture gallery, somewhere in London,
when, as he passed near and was pointed out to her,
she observed that he was lame, but there was a fresh
ness in his complexion and an air of robust health
about his whole contour. At length, in 1816, she
met him, and she says,
It was the last time I ever saw him, and I might say the first,
according to the idea of him, who said on the introduction of
a stranger, " speak, that I may see thee !" for certainly the face
of W". Scott, when speaking and animated, and the same face
in a quiescent state, were two different things. And what a
seeing that was ! It was at breakfast, at the house of Sir
George Phillips, in Mount Street ; I had been invited to
meet Sir Walter, and I went with the anticipation of no
common pleasure, arriving precisely at the time specified.
Sir W., however, was there before me ; and for some time,
to my great satisfaction, we, with the master and mistress of
the house, continued uninterrupted by other guests. I know
not what led to the subject ; but he gave us a most animated
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 175
description of a cockney s hunting in the Highlands ; I think
the person was a militia officer, and his terror, when he found
himself going full gallop up and down crags, steeps, and
declivities of which he had before no idea, was pictured with a
living spirit which I cannot do justice to. This narrative was
interrupted by the arrival of other guests, and Sir W., to my
great joy, was desired to hand me downstairs ; consequently
I sat beside him ; the company was too large for much
general conversation, though there was also present another
whose conversational powers were first-rate Wordsworth,
who came late, being one of the party. I did not, however,
regret this, as I was enabled to keep the conversation of my
right-hand neighbour to myself. One subject succeeded
another, and the gifted man condescended to speak to me of
my " Father and Daughter," and told me he had cried over it
more than he ever cried over such things. I felt emboldened
to speak of his own writings, and ventured to ask him why,
with such dramatic power, he had never tried the drama ? he
said many reasons had prevented him ; amongst others, he
was, he said, a proud man, and his pride would never have
allowed him to dance attendance on the managers, and consult
the varied tastes of actors and others or words to that effect.
But he owned that he had once serious thoughts of writing a
tragedy, on the same subject as had been so ably treated by
his friend, Joanna Baillie ; meaning the " Family Legend"
founded, as I need not say, on a true story. Sir W. said,
had he gone on with his tragedy, (I think he had begun it,)
he should have had no love in it. His hero should have been
the uncle of the heroine, a sort of misanthrope, with only one
affection in his heart, love for his niece, like a solitary gleam
of sunshine, gilding the dark tower of some ruined and lonely
dwelling ! Never shall I never can I, forget the fine expres
sion of his lifted eye, as he uttered this ! The whole face became
elevated in its character, and even the features acquired a
dignity and grace from the power of genius ! How fortunate
did I consider myself in having that morning been favoured
with a specimen of his two manners, if I may so express myself.
176 MEMORIALS OF THE
In the autumn of this year Mrs. Opie went to
Edinburgh ; and she has given a short account oi
this visit, in connexion with her reminiscences of Sir
Walter Scott.
From my earliest days (she says) I was such an admirer of
Scotch literature and Scotch music, and I was so prepossessed
in favour of Scotland, that I have often run eagerly to the
window of my own house, only to see a Scotch drover pass
by, in his blue bonnet and plaid ; and it was with gladness of
heart that in the autumn of the year I had met Sir Walter, I
found myself at liberty to visit Edinburgh ! " Tell me, (said I
to the postillion,) when we reach the Tweed," and as soon as
I saw its silver waters sparkling in the summer sun, I hailed
it with delight, and warmly congratulated myself on being, at
last, in Scotland. That day we went to Dryburgh ; I had
seen the Earl of Buchan at my own house, in London, when
he was in England ; and, having promised to return his call at
the first opportunity, I went, at the end of sixteen years, to
perform my promise, and was most kindly received. Before
dinner was served, we went to see the grounds and the beau
tiful ruins of the abbey, where was pointed out to us the part
of the ruin apportioned off for the place of interment of Sir
W. Scott and his descendants.
During the nine days I remained in Edinburgh, Sir W.
did not come thither; so that I had no opportunity of seeing
him; but I had the pleasure of sitting opposite Raeburn s
picture of him every day, at the house of my kind host Con
stable, whose guest I was. Eagerly did I tell every body
who would listen to me, of my meeting him in London, and
of the impression which he made on me : but I was mortified
when, on my praising the beauty of his countenance,
under strong excitement, and the fire of his blue grey eye,
Dr. Brown, the celebrated professor, interrupted me with,
" Nay, nay, Mrs. Opie, do not go on with these flights ot
fancy ; the face is nothing but a roast-beef and plum-pudding
face, say what you will !" Whatever that face was, would I
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 177
had had the happiness of seeing it again! However, the
remembrance of the enjoyment which that morning at Mount
street gave me, I treasure as one of the greatest which was
ever afforded me, by worldly intercourse.
This year was published " Valentine s Eve," a tale
in three volumes, interesting as shewing the state of her
religious feelings at the time it was written, The
lesson it inculcates is the superiority of religious
principle as a rule of action, and as a support under
affliction and unmerited calumny. The heroine of
the story, pronouncing her conviction that " moral
virtues are only durable and precious as they are
derived from religious belief and the consequence of
it," says,
Some suppose that morality can stand alone without the
aid of religion, and even fancy that republican firmness will
enable us to bear affliction ; but / feel that the only refuge
in sorrow and in trial, is the Rock of Ages, and the promises
of the gospel.
In 1817 Mrs. Opie made an excursion into Sussex,
and among other friends, visited Mr. Hayley. In
consequence, she says, of this gentleman s flattering
mention of her in the twelfth edition of his "Triumphs
of Temper," she went on a visit to his house, in the
year 1814; and in his " Life," by Dr. Johnson, there
is a short sketch, from her pen, of the manner in which
they passed their time, during that and subsequent
visits she paid him. "In 1816," (writes Mrs. O.) "I
went to Scotland, and did not see Eartham till 1817.
I then found Mr. Hayley was become fond of seeing
occasional visitors ; but, for the most part, our life was
as unvaried as it had been in my former visits to him."
N
178 MEMORIALS OF THE
She corresponded with him after leaving him, and
fulfilled the promise she had made, to send him her
portrait. He acknowledged the receipt of this
picture, in a letter, from which we give an extract.
* * * * i re j i ce that a petty incident prevented rny
letter from beginning its travels yesterday ; for, in the evening,
the eagerly expected portrait arrived : a fine head nobly
painted in the gusto grande !
After assigning to it, this early inorn, its proper station, in
an excellent light, your paternal hermit burst into the follow
ing extempore benedictions, in contemplating his carissima
Jiglia.
Thy portrait, dear Amelia, in my sight,
My eyes are charmed with beauty s blooming flower;
But when thy books my sympathy excite,
I feel thy genius, the sublimer power ;
Pleased, of thy various charms to bless the whole,
I praise thy form, and idolize thy soul ;
Such worship s thine, from " threescore and eleven, 7
Whose higher adoration mounts to heaven.
I can devise no better mode of expressing my gratitude to
you for this delightful proof of your filial regard, than by
putting into the case, which conveyed you to my cell, that
sweet picture* of Virgil s Tomb, by my friend of Derby,
which I had long intended as a legacy for you; yet some
time must elapse before the picture can arrive at Norwich,
because it is to halt on its transit through London, at the
house of a very amiable young artist, who is to execute
for me a diminutive copy of it, as a companion to another
* This picture Mrs. Opie in her will bequeathed to " her Mend
Thos. Brightwell." It is by Wright, of Derby, aud is curious, as
attempting to give the three effects of moonlight, fire-light, and
twilight, in the same piece.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 179
small picture. And now I must hastily say addio carissima !
not to lose the post of to-day. Addio.
In October of this year Mr. Hayley wrote : *
" I have much enjoyed a social visit of several weeks, from
our admirable Amelia Opie, who, after having kindly devoted
some pleasant months to various friends, in her excursion, is
just settling herself at home again, with a mind well prepared
to exert its powers in several projected works, that will, I
trust, in due time, afford a copious supply of pleasure and
instruction to the literary world."
In 1818 Mrs Opie published her "Tales of tbe
Heart," probably one of the works alluded to in this
letter. In tbe first volume of this series there are two,
entitled, "The Odd Tempered Man," and "White
Lies." The former of these, is an original picture
of an eccentric phase of the infirmities of temper ; to
the latter Mrs. O. evidently refers in the following
letter to Mr. Hayley :
Norwich, 24th Jan., 1819.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
You are too just to expect that the author of
" White Lies," the tale, should be guilty of " White Lies,"
the fault therefore though I can, en toute surele de conscience
say, that I was very glad to hear from you again, yet I must
own that I did not feel your excuses for not having written
at all satisfactory. * * * I am going to send you (perhaps
to-morrow) some dried apples, apples being once more plen
tiful here ; and the box will also contain an etching of my
dear father, from a drawing by my husband : it is like, but
too full about the jawbone, and my father s hair must have
been by accident rough, when my husband drew him ; now
* See Memoirs of Win. Hayley, vol. 2, p. 191.
N 2
180 MEMORIALS OF THE
it is close to his head, and his head is well shaped. However,
on the whole, it is very like, and the etching does credit to
the artist, a lady, the wife of Dawson Turner, and a most
admirable person she is. * * My father is now, blessed
be God ! quite well, in all respects ; but soon after my return
home in July he sprained his ancle, and was lame, unwell,
dispirited, and broken down in mind and body for weeks, nay
months, and I suffered much, but he now walks well, and is
well, and enjoys himself. Farewell !
Believe me ever affectionately yours,
A. OPIE.
William Hayley, Esq., near Chichester.
Shortly after the date of this letter, Mrs, Opie was
alarmed by tidings of the severe illness of her aged
friend ; she says, (in the sketch given in Hayley s life
before referred to,) " I went down to Bognor, not
certain that I should not arrive too late to see him ;
but I found him out of danger, and had the happiness
of returning to London at the end of the week,
leaving him recovering. But I saw him no more.
He died in November of the following year."
Another of her old friends (Mrs. Inchbald) wrote
to her this year, under the pressure of a malady
beneath which she speedily succumbed. She wrote
again, for the last time, at the Christmas of the
following year, thus:
Kensington House, 19th Dec., 1820.
MY DEAR MRS. OPIE,
Your kind Christrnas-box arrived safe, and
temptingly beautiful, yesterday evening; many thanks.
We are, even in these dark and short days, as brilliant on
the high road, and in open air, as during the long -and bright
days of summer and autumn. I think I never saw a more
gaudy, yet numerous and sober procession, (processions, I
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 181
should say, for they lasted from morning till night,) than passed
the house yesterday. I think myself particularly fortunate
in the place of my abode, on this account. The present
world is such a fine subject to excite intense reflection.
Mr. Kemble called on me, during the short time he was in
England ; he looked remarkably well in the face, but as he
walked through the court-yard, to step into his carriage, I
was astonished to perceive him bend down his person, like a
man of eighty. How, I wonder, does she support her
banishment from England ? He has sense and taste to find
" books in the running brooks, and good in everything."
By the bye, your books are lying on the table of our draw
ing room most days, and I hear great praise of them ; and
yet I do not feel the slightest curiosity to open one of them.
The reason is, there are also a hundred of Sir Walter Scott s
in the same place, and as it is impossible to read all, I have
no wish to read any ; for to read without judging, is to read
without amusement ; and how can I judge without comparing,
detecting likenesses, or admiring originality ? Besides, I have
so many reflections concerning a future world, as well as con
cerning the present, and there are, on that awful subject, so
many books still unread, that 1 think every moment lost,
which impedes my gaining information from holy and learned
authors.
It rains, and I fear I cannot send my letter to the post by
a safe hand, till fine weather. My best compliments to Dr.
Alderson, and believe me,
Yours most sincerely,
E. INCHBALD.
She died in 1821. Mrs. Opie had not been aware
of her illness, and wrote on the 9th of August to Mr.
Phillips, thus:
DEAR SIR,
The paper of to-day contains an account of
i\\Q funeral of Mrs. Inchbald, and I had heard neither of her
182 MEMORIALS OF THE
illness, nor her death! I need not say how shocked and
sorry I am ; and I take the liberty of requesting that you
will be so kind as to give me some account of her illness,
last moments, &c.
I have not seen her this year, because I now never leave
my father, and have been in Norwich almost ever since I saw
her last, which was last September. Pray excuse, &c.
Yours respectfully,
A. OPIE.
G. Phillips, Esq.,
Surgeon to his Majesty, Caiiton Palace.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 183
CHAPTER XIII.
ILLNESS OF DE. ALDEESON ; HIS DATTGHTEE s ANXIETY; PEISCILLA
GT7ENEY | BIBLE AND ANTI-SLAYEEY MEETINGS; " MADELINE;"
LETTEE FEOM SOFTHEY ; " LYING ;" LETTEES TO MES. FEY J MES.
OPIE JOINS THE SOCIETY OF FEIENDS ; DE. ALDEESON s DECLINE
AND DEATH.
DR. ALDERSON became seriously ill in December, 1820,
and his daughter accompanied him to London, for
medical advice, on the 23rd January, 1821. On the
26th, they went to stay at the house of Mr. Hudson
Gurney, by whom the following particulars were
communicated to the writer ; " Davies Gilbert and
a few friends dined with us ; and Dr. Alderson was,
apparently cheerful and pretty comfortable ; but, in a
day or two, he was seized with extreme depression of
spirits, and went back to Norwich on the 2nd of
February. He never, I believe, or hardly ever, left
his house afterwards, till the time of his death.
During the whole time of his illness, Mrs. Opie most
assiduously attended him ; she had latterly joined the
Quakers ; and read to him much in the Bible and
other religious books, and his views, on religious
subjects, appear to have undergone an entire change.
Mr. J. J. Gurney was very frequently with them
both."
On their journey home from town, after this visit,
an alarming accident occurred. The horses took
184 MEMORIALS OF THE
fright, the coachman and passengers were thrown off
the coach, and the leaders broke the traces ; by some
means the vehicle was stopped, but their lives had
been endangered ; and when Dr. Alderson, who was
not at first aware of the peril they had incurred, was
told, by his daughter, the particulars of the accident,
he exclaimed, as he thanked God that they had
reached Norwich in safety, " I have been mercifully
spared, my dear child, and I wonder why ?" His
daughter, speaking of the event, said " afterwards,
when his serious impressions daily deepened, he said,
Oh ! my dear child ! I know now why I was spared.
From this time the continued and increasing illness
of her father occupied her time, and engaged her
constant thought, while numerous friends gathered
around them, desirous to cheer and soothe the invalid,
and to aid his daughter in her task of love. " I
suffered much!" she wrote, when the first symptoms
of this "sickness unto death" appeared; how much
we learn, in some degree, to estimate, by the grief of
after years, when the blow, she was then dreading, had
fallen. But, if it be true (and every Christian will
set his seal to it) that " since the day Jesus redeemed
us on the cross, all that is great, powerful, and
salutary, partakes of a serious nature, and that all
the seeds of life and regeneration, are sown in sorrow
and in death," then we may recognise, in this afflictive
visitation, the " blessing in disguise," which was sent
by her heavenly Father to wean her from the world
and call her to himself.
Two prayers, written at this time, were preserved
among her papers, and remain affecting testimonials
of the " thoughts of her heart" within her.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 185
A PRAYER. 25TH OF APRIL,, 1821.
O gracious and long suffering God ! now that those trials
and infirmities are come upon me, from which I have hi-therto
been mercifully exempted, let me not, I beseech Thee, forget
Thy past mercies, in Thy present chastisements ; but rather
let me consider those chastisements as greater mercies still,
and as designed to draw me, in humble supplication and
heartfelt thankfulness, to the foot of Thy throne, there to
confess my sins and my long forgetfulness of Thee ; and to
acknowledge, that I have no hope of salvation, but through
the merits of Jesus Christ, my Lord and my Redeemer, who
died the death of a sinner, that I, and sinners like myself,
might be forgiven and live.
A PRAYER. 26TH OF APRIL, 1821.
O Thou ! " the God that hearest prayer," and even amidst
innumerable choirs of angels for ever glorifying Thee and
hymning Thy praise, canst hearken to the softest breathings
of a supplicating and contrited heart, deign Lord to let the
prayers of a child, for a beloved parent, come up before
Thee. In grateful return for that life which he gave me
here, and which, under Thy good providence, he has tenderly
watched over, and tried to render happy, enable me, O Lord !
to be the humble means of leading him to Thee. O let
us " thirst," and come together " to the waters, and buy
the wine and milk without money and without price ; " and
grant, O Lord ! that before we go hence, and are no more
seen of men, our united voices may ascend to Thee in praises
and in blessings ! grant that we may together call upon the
name of Him who has redeemed us by His most precious
blood, that in that blood our manifold sins may be washed
away.
This year died her lovely friend, Priscilla Gurney.
In the Memoirs of Mrs. Fry (vol. 1, pp. 391, 399,)
186 MEMORIALS OF THE
a most touching account is given, of the closing scenes
of her life. She must have been singularly pleasing,
for, notwithstanding her early death, her memory still
remains sweet to many, and she is yet spoken of with
affectionate regret. Some lines (not among her
" Lays") were written by Mrs. Opie in remembrance
of this dear friend ; they are headed
There is a spot in Life s vain scene,
"Which oft, with willing feet, I tread ;
It is yon still, sequester d green*
"Where lowly sleep the nameless dead.
There, underneath that elm s soft shade,
Now waving in the zephyr s breath,
Belov d Priscilla, thou art laid,
"Within thy grassy home of Death !
I would not call thee back again
To this dark world, unworthy thee,
Faith bids my heart that wish restrain,
Yet oh ; how vast thy loss to me !
I miss thy soothing smile of love,
Thy voice, that could my fears control,
Thy words that bade my doubts remove,
And breath d conviction o er my soul.
I miss thee, while with pilgrim feet
I now my course to Zion bend ;
For thou, upon her way wouldst greet,
And fondly hail, thy fainting friend.
But thou art where each promise given
Is now fulfill d, (thine, endless day,)
Then, full of gratitude to Heaven,
I ll breathe a prayer, and turn away.
The Friends have no tombstones, and the field for the graves is usually green. A. 0.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 187
There was much passing in the religious world at
this period, calculated to engage the attention, and
attract the warm sympathies, of Mrs. Opie. The
spirits of many highly gifted and eminent men were
aroused to do great things in the cause of religion and
philanthropy. In 1811 the first Meeting of the
Norwich Bible Society was held in St. Andrew s Hall,
and was noted as " a day indeed ; one that might be
called a mark of the times." Then were seen, for the
first time, united for one great object, in the spirit of
Christian union, Churchmen and Dissenters ; Bishop
Bathurst presided, and Clergymen and Dissenting
Ministers, Lutheran, Independent, Baptist, Quaker,
and Methodist, joined hand in hand. On this occasion,
the Hall at Earlham was made the head-quarters of
the deputation ; and a numerous circle of friends
gathered around, to share in the pleasures of holy
intercourse and Christian fellowship. These meetings
were annually renewed, and year by year the honoured
host at Earlham opened his mansion, and greeted his
friends and fellow-workers, and cheered them with
his generous hospitality. They who were wont to
meet on these occasions, have often felt their hearts
burn within them, as they " talked one with another"
on the great things of the heavenly kingdom, whose
interests had gathered them together, and united
them as the heart of one man.
In 1820 the Anti-slavery Society was formed, and
was brought before the friends of the cause in
Norwich, at a meeting, superintended by Mr. Gurney,
and largely attended. In both these Societies Mrs.
Opie took a deep interest, which (to use a favourite
and constantly repeated expression of her own) " grew
188 MEMORIALS OF THE
with her growth and strengthened with her strength."
The pressure of domestic affliction did not interrupt
Mrs. Opie s literary occupations, and perhaps she
found (as many others have done) a relief in such
absorbing engagements. In 1822 she published
" Madeline," the last of her Novels, (for though she
commenced writing another, it was never completed.)
In the following year, she contributed to the European
Magazine, a series of poetical " Epistles from Mary
Queen of Scots to her Uncles," prefacing them by
saying, " Ever since I have been able to compare the
strength of opposing evidence, and to enter into the
probable motives of human actions, I have believed
Mary Queen of Scotland to be entirely innocent of the
atrocious guilt of which she has been accused
adultery and murder." There are also some Tales
and a short memoir of Bishop Bathurst, from her
pen, in the same volume.
She appears to have made some application to
Mr. Southey, with reference to a Review of her
" Madeline," which drew from him the following
letter :
Keswick, llth April, 1822.
MY DEAR MADAM,
Your Madeline is a great favourite here, and
well deserves to be so. The tale is beautifully told, and
everywhere true to nature ; if there be a little of that ideal
colouring, which belongs to this species of composition, as
much as to poetry, it is in your hero rather than your heroine.
The tragic catastrophe would, as you say, have made the story
more perfect, but it would have made the book painful, instead
of pleasing, in recollection. I am sure that I should not have
looked at it a second time, compared one part with another,
LIFE OP AMELIA OPIE. 189
and dwelt upon particular scenes, if there had been death at
the end ; and this, I think, is not so much the weakness of
my individual temper, as it is a natural feeling. The theatres
shew it to be so, by the preference which is given to comedy ;
they who have borne a part in the tragedies of real life (who
is there that can go through the world without ?) shrink, even
from the sorrow which is produced by fiction.
The Quarterly Review will be much better employed in
recommending Madeline to notice, than in pointing out in the
Pirate, beauties which everybody must have seen, and defects
which nobody can have overlooked. The part which I bear
in that journal is greatly overrated, and the influence which I
possess there, quite as much so. For two years I have been
vainly endeavouring to get a book by Sir Howard Douglas
reviewed there, though the subject is of great importance,
and national interest, as well as national credit, concerned
in it. I could not do it myself, because it required scientific
knowledge, which I do not possess.
To convince you, however, that your tale has really inter
ested me, I will write to Mr. Giffbrd, and ask him to admit
an article upon it ; most likely he will consent ; I cannot be
quite sure of this, nor can I promise anything farther for the
paper, than that it will be written in right good will. As for
my prose anybody s prose is mistaken for mine ; and what
is far more strange, anybody s opinions ! The guessing at
anonymous writings is almost as much a matter of hap
hazard, as the attempt to discover any person, by his walk
and figure, at a masquerade.
Mrs. S. desires me to present her compliments. Remem
ber me to William Taylor, when you happen to see him.
Farewell, my dear Madam,
And believe me yours truly,
ROBERT SOUTHEY.
Her next work was one of a widely different
character ; on " Lying, in all its branches," a subject
190* MEMORIALS OF THE
affording ample scope for the moralist, and handled
in a manner at once novel and ingenious. It received
the best of all sanctions, that of success ; and she had
the exquisite satisfaction of knowing that she attained
the object at which she aimed. Some few years
afterwards, when Mrs. Opie was at Paris, she was
introduced to several American friends, who cordially
greeted her, thanking her for this book, which they
assured her was universally acknowledged to have
done good in their country ; and that it had found its
way into the cottages in the interior, and might be
seen there, well thumbed by frequent use. Shortly
after the publication of this work, Mrs. Opie wrote
thus to Mrs. Fry :
Norwich, 12th mo., 6th, 18 - 3.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
As it is possible that thou mayst have been
told that a new novel from my pen, called " The Painter and
his Wife? is in the press, I wish to tell thee this is a falsehood :
that my publishers advertised this only begun work, un
known to me, and that I have written to say the said work
is not written, nor ever will be. I must own to thee, how
ever, that as several hundreds of it are already ordered by
the trade, I have felt the sacrifice, but I do not repent of it.*
Joseph and Catherine are highly pleased with my new
work, on ie Lying, in all its branches," (each sort of lie illus
trated by a simple anecdote, or tale,) and they think it must
do good. We go on as usual ; my dear father I think better
on the whole, in body, and, I hope, not gone back in mind.
I am at times very low, but there is safety in lowness for
some people, and I am one of them. I know a tortoise pace
is a safe pace, but still I am dissatisfied with my slow pro
gress. Farewell ! dearest Betsy ! I remember thy visit
* The unfinished MS. was found among her papers.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 191
with true and grateful pleasure; with kind love to all thy
circle,
I am, thy affectionate Friend,
A. OPIE.
To Elizabeth Fry, Plashet, Essex.
Dr. Alderson attained the age of four-score, in the
spring of this year ; and his daughter thus greeted him
on the return of his birthday.
TO MY FATHER.
7th April, 1823.
And thou art eighty j tis thy natal day !
Then oh ! forgive me that I dare to pray
(Since from so dear a tie tis hard to part,
A tie, sole treasure of this lonely heart)
That many a year thou yet may st with me stay,
Resign d in pain, and cheerful in decay !
While the bright hopes redeeming love has taught,
Prompting each pious, purifying thought,
Live in thy soul, to tell of sins forgiven,
And plume its pinions for its flight to heaven.
Some years had now passed since Mrs. Opie first
attended the religious services of the Friends ; and it
will have been apparent to the reader, that she had,
during that time, been approaching more and more
nearly, in her religious sentiments, to their principles.
Another letter which she wrote to Mrs. Fry shortly after
the above, speaks of the difficulties she felt on some
points ; and mentions that " many of her relations, on
the mother s side, had been united for generations
past to the Wesleyan Methodists," which consideration
had sometimes disposed her to incline towards " a
union with that sect of worshippers."
192 MEMORIALS OF THE
It was not without considerable anxiety, and after
long deliberation, that the decisive step was taken,
and she applied for membership with the Society of
Friends. On looking back to that period, she always
rejoiced in that decision, and expressed, on her bed of
death, her satisfaction in it.
Of the perplexities and anxieties of her mind at
this time, her letters to Mrs. Fry give sufficient proof.
In January, 1824, she again wrote to her, and, after
stating the great difficulty which she experienced in
adopting " the plain language," and her earnest desire
to be guided aright in this matter, she proceeds :
* * * It is indeed true that I never feel so comforted,
as when I feel humbled, and experience a deep sense of my
own sinfulness ; when I rise from my knees, or leave meet
ing with an arrow striking in my heart, as it were, I feel a
sort of pleasure, which I now would not exchange for aught
the world can give. I hope this will not seem to thee
unreal or fantastical : but no, I think thou wilt understand it.
* * * * To say the truth, much as I should like to
belong to a religious society, and much as I see, or think I
see, the hand of my gracious Lord in leading me, to whom
have been given so many ties to a worldly life, in the
various gifts bestowed on me, (I mean accomplishments, as
they are called,) to communion with a sect which requires
the sacrifice of them almost in toto, thereby trying my faith
to the uttermost, still I feel no necessity for haste in doing
so. It is by no means clear to me, that, though generally
strong, I am not locally infirm. I have lately had severe
colds, and coughs, and have queer feelings in my heart,
which may be merely nervous, and may be not so. Be this
as it may, I am never without the consciousness now, that
this may be for me "no continuing city." In the next
place, should I survive my father, and be in a condition of
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 193
body and mind favourable to travelling, it has long been the
desire of my heart to visit foreign countries ; my wishes, I
own, extending even to Palestine ; and it might be far better
for me to travel, unfettered by any ties. Mean
time, I feel my reliance on my Saviour grow stronger every
day, and a sort of loathing of worldly society, which I must
strive against. But no one, but that wise and merciful and
just Being who has tried, and is now trying me, knows, or
ever will know, what I have io endure from the many unseen
peculiarities of my situation. However, I take comfort and
encouragement from my difficulties; I know that I am most
vile, and that I ought to be for ever striving to show my
gratitude to my blessed Redeemer, by devoting myself
entirely to his service ; and I feel a repose and peace, in
spite of my conscious sins, which the world cannot give nor
take away, and which I humbly hope will continue to bear
me up unto the end. Above all, I am conscious of a daily
increasing spirit of prayer, and a desire of constant commu
nion with the Bestower of it. What a letter of egotism !
But I know thy mind will be interested in the " dealings
with mine, and I wish thee, dearest Betsy, always to know
whereabouts I am. Dear Joseph is come back well, and
looking well. With kind love to you all,
I am, thy affectionate Friend,
A. OPIE.
To Elizabeth Fry,
Plashet, East Ham, Essex.
In another letter, dated Norwich, 3rd mo., 2nd,
182-1, addressed to Mrs. Fry, after thanking her for
her reply to the former letter, she tells her that on
the 14th of the preceding month, she had, after much
anxious consideration and indecision, decided to act
without delay, according to the dictates of her con
science ; and that a gentleman, a stranger, chancing
to come and call on her that morning, she spoke the
194 MEMORIALS OF THE
" plain language " to him, and had continued to do so
ever since ; and she says, " Nor have I had a mis
giving, but feel so calm and satisfied, that I am con
vinced I have done right ; and I feel now utterly
cast for comfort, support, and guidance, on the
Searcher of hearts, and the great Shepherd,, the
merciful Redeemer.
In the following year Mrs. Opie addressed this
letter to the Friends of the Monthly Meeting.
RESPECTED FKIENDS,
Having attended your place of worship for
more than eleven years, and being now fully convinced of
the truth of Friends principles, I can no longer be easy
without expressing my earnest desire to be admitted into
membership with your Society. My former opinions and
habits, were, I own, at variance with yours; but having,
through Divine mercy, been convinced of the error of my
early belief, and of the emptiness of worldly pleasures, I trust
that the same mercy has led me to desire to "walk in the
narrow way " that seems to lie before me, and to promise me
" that peace which the world cannot give."
I am, yours, with respect and esteem,
A. O.
As the result of this application, she was received
into membership on the llth of August, 1825.
Dr. Alderson expressed his warm approval of the
step his daughter had taken. He had, during the
lengthened period of his gradual decline, been much
comforted and assisted by the attentions and religious
counsels of Mr. J. J. Gurney, and had become attached
to those friends whose society she so much esteemed.
He wished also to be permitted to find his last resting.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 195
place in the Friends burial ground; and it was
evident that he was destined soon to occupy the
" abode appointed for all living. *
There exists an affecting record of the last two
years of his life, in a ledger-like book, into which he
entered all his medical cases, day by day. The first
entry is dated January 25th, 1824, and the last, Sep
tember 7th, 1825, little more than a month before his
death ! In this book, he has, every now and then, in
the midst of his professional notes, made an entry of
some personal feeling or event. Thus, under date
27th January, 1824, he writes, " Southey came his
portrait taken his hair grey." 4th March, 1825,
"Miserere mei, Domine, precor ;" and again, August
16th, " Never felt so like dying, as I have just now
done ; the sensation was indescribably bad." At
length, on the closing page of the book, he writes :
" I never thought I should live to finish this book. If
I live till to-morrow, I shall begin a new one. My pain,
at this moment, is bad, my intellects clear, and I look
forward to my being saved for happiness hereafter.
How much I long for my last end ! but in this I act
wrongly ; for a man ought to wait patiently till his
end conies ; for I can live no longer than God pleases,
let a man talk to me ever so long about curing my
legs."
On the cover of this book Dr. A. has written the
following verse of Dr. Watts :
" Let all the heathen writers join,
To form one perfect book,
Great God ! when once compared with Thine,
How mean their writings look,"
196 MEMORIALS OF THE
During his illness, Mrs. Opie used to play on the
piano, and sing the hymns and psalms of Dr. Watts to
her father, at his request ; he appeared to find great
consolation in listening as she sung, and often called
to have the hymn repeated ; and that music was like a
medicine that soothed him to rest, when any other
might have been administered in vain.
Shortly before his death, he was visited by Mr.
Gurney, and, in reply to an observation made by him,
expressed, with great feeling, his humble confidence
in the atoning work of the Lord Jesus Christ.
So died the father of Amelia Opie. As she gazed
upon his lifeless countenance, she was able to enter
tain a hope that supported her soul, and preserved
her from sinking under the blow. How deeply and
enduringly she lamented him, and how tenderly she
cherished his memory, was evident in every day of
her after life. Dr. Alderson s record was written upon
his daughter s heart. And is not Carlyle right when
he says, " Oh ! great, or little one, according as thou
art loveable, those thou livest with will love thee T
LIFE OF AMELIA OP1E. 197
CHAPTER XIV.
CONSOLATION IN SORROW; LETTER TO A FRIEND; -JOURNAL FOR THE
YEAR 1827.
IN the months that followed her father s death, Mrs.
Opie, though suffering deeply, was sustained by her
faith in the promises of Him whose voice she had heard
and obeyed, and for whose service she had renounced
the approval and the pleasures of the world. In the
kindness and sympathy of her friends she found com
fort, and thankfully acknowledged that there is " good
in friendship, and delight in holy love," and, in her turn,
she sought to " bind up the heart that was broken,"
and to minister to the consolation of others one of
the surest and best means of obtaining relief under
the pressure of sorrow. It is impossible to read her
journals and letters of this time, without recognizing
in them a depth of piety, that could only spring from a
Divine source. Her tender compassion for the afflicted,
and her labours of love, in visiting the sick, the
prisoner, and the necessitous, remind one of Horace
Walpole s words to Hannah More, " Your heart is
always aching for others, and your head for yourself."
198 MEMORIALS OF THE
The following letter is almost the only record of
the year that followed Dr. Alderson s death; it was
addressed to a lady to whom she was much attached,
and who afterwards came to live in Norwich. When
she died, Mrs. Opie s letters to her were returned,
and some of them will be found occasionally in these
pages.
Norwich, 3rd mo., 26th, 1826.
MY BELOVED FRIEND,
* * * I had thought that I could never feel
anything again, but thy news really affected me ! I am, I
own, uneasy at the idea of thy suffering ; but thy present
sweet, spiritual, and submitted state of mind, will, I doubt
not, strew thy path with those unfading flowers, which,
blown here, will blossom to all eternity, and sooth and cheer
thy passage to the tomb.
For a year at least, my place of abode must be unfixed ;
it may be London ; in that case, I should be near thee : but
when we meet we will speculate on the earthly future, which
is equally uncertain to us both.
What a mercy it is, dear friend, that thou wast enabled,
through faith, to bear thy apparent sentence, so abruptly
pronounced. In nothing are the Lord s dealings with us so
wonderful and gracious, as when he enables us to bear trials,
which we should once have expected to shrink from and to
sink under. How I have been permitted to experience this !
My health is quite restored, my recent journey having, I. trust,
been beneficial. On my way home I was alone from Scole
to Norwich, with a young man apparently dying of decline,
and I felt it a duty to talk on serious subjects ; and found him,
I trust, teachable, and I promised to send him J. J. Gurney s
Letters and others. He was so delighted ! but, poor thing,
he was full of hopes of recovery. I have been tolerably
tranquil for some days ; and to-day I visited my dear father s
grave ! he hoped I would sometimes do so ! I felt peace both
for him and myself, while I looked on it, and looked forward
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 199
with cheerfulness to sleeping beside him ! H. Girdlestone
comforted me much, the other day, by reminding me how
often in mercy the child was summoned away soon after the
parent I The idea brought closer the prospects of eternity, and
the necessity, therefore, of preparation, as more urgent, that
the day s work may be done in the day. May my attention
be fixed on present duty, that my remaining time may be
usefully and well spent, and that I may be ready when the
summons shall come to call me hence.
J. J. Gurney is on a long and distant journey ; when he
returns, and when we meet, which may not be for two
months, if I can say ought to him for thee, command me.
Farewell, write soon, thine affectionately,
A. OPIE.
In the autumn of this year, Mrs. Opie went on a
visit to some friends residing near the Lakes. The
change of scene, and friendly intercourse, were bene
ficial to her ; and she returned refreshed to her now
solitary home.
From this time she kept an occasional diary, in
which she noted the events of each day ; from these
records we select some portions, commencing with
one headed,
1827, My Journal, New Year s Day. Too unwell to ven
ture to the Sick Poor Committee to-day. Sorry to begin
the year with the omission of a duty. My aunt and other
friends called ; also the dear Earlham children welcome
visitants ! Day calm, on the whole, but was not quite satisfied
with myself; nay, was far otherwise. Read the 46th psalm to
the servants ; felt the force of " Peace, be still, and know that
I am God," and also the comfort of " God is our refuge," &c.
(2nd of 1st ino.) Rose better in health, after a peaceful
night, and felt calm and thankful. Walked to Bracondale
and made calls there, and attended the Infant School
200 MEMORIALS OF THE
Committee. Was, in the evening, at a party ; the conversation
not general, but rather pleasant. I could have wished not to
have left the vicinity of - , who always talks well, but
was obliged, through courtesy, to change my seat. I believe
things and public persons, not private individuals, were talked
of; this is always desirable, but rare. Had only time to read
a psalm to the servants, being so late, which I regret. On
looking over the day, I am not sure it was better spent ; in
one respect, I had, indeed, more self-blame to undergo. Night
peaceful and favoured, when I awoke, which was not often ;
but my morning thoughts full of painful recollections of little
slights and trials. Oh ! my pride of heart ! not subdued yet :
" Oh ! for a broken contrite heart."
(4th.) Had a sweet, sleepful, and favoured night; but have
passed a self-indulgent day. Read F. Hemans poetry ; it is
unique and exquisite, and breathing always of salvation and
heaven. How have I thrown away my time to day ; done
nothing of my book, except writing the introduction to a
fable for it ; but have written two necessary letters. Felt
comfort while reading A. L. Barbauld s beautiful hymn on
charity, " Behold where breathing love divine !" I hoped I
was not slow to kind offices ; but other convictions kept me
full of counteracting humility. Sent dear S. M. B. some
pomegranates. How pleased I am when I can shew her and
dear A. G. any attention. How much were they to me in my
darkest hours ; how true and tender their sympathy ! never
to be forgotten. How can I help feeling for them who felt
so much for me ?
(4th day.) Rose calm and comforted ; had, on the whole, a
good arid comforting meeting, though no ministry ; called on
my aunt and the N. Whites. A very unprofitable day,
meeting time excepted ; I grow worse, I fear, rather than
better. I am so dissatisfied with myself, that I dare hardly
ask or expect a blessing on my labours. How cold and dead
in the spirit I feel to night ; but I know " we have an
Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous," and
how I need one !
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 201
(5th.) A good and comfortable night, and rose in spirits,
but felt unwilling to work at my book. Dear friends called ;
had a kind odd letter from H. T., and so characteristic !
Made myself finish another fable for my work, and liked it.
Just come from dining at Neville W. s with his mother and
sisters enjoyed my visit. On the whole, more satisfied with
this day than the preceding one ; but I am very lazy, and
like in spirit to Festus, of whom I have just been reading,
when he said to Paul, that he would send for him, and hear
him, at a convenient season. Oh ! that deferring.
(6th.) Rose, refreshed by a good night, and willing to
perform my duties. Wrote some verses for a friend s album,
and improved my fable of the Lapdog and the Ass. Went
to the jail, and found the woman in bed : read to and
exhorted her. She seemed in a promising state of mind.
Went next to visit a poor woman, but felt she and her husband
were not so much interested as when I was there before.
Called on my aunt: she gave a poor account of my uncle.
Poor M. B. ! his interesting son Edward worse., and no chance
of aught but a protracted life of suffering, likely to end in early
death : may he be preserved in his day of trial. Have
passed this evening in alternate reading and writing, but not
of a profitable nature ; however, I like my verses very well.
This day there has been some performance of duty, but, on
the whole, it marks no progress in grace. To-morrow is first
day ; may I keep it holy.
(7th of the month, 1st day.) A quiet night, and very
satisfactory morning meeting. J. S. had to speak in rather
long quotations from the Scriptures, and spoke, I think^
to edification. No other ministry felt no want of any.
Afternoon meeting still, but not long, like the morning one.
Read dear S. M. B. on the Sabbath ; then read ;he first part
of Mary Dudley s Life ; felt true unity with her experience
when first called to the ministry. What a bright course was
hers ! Wrote a serious letter, with Scripture quotations, to
L. E., with two copies of J. J. Gurney s letter : may the
gift be blessed to him ! Read about eighty pages of a book
202 MEMORIALS OF THE
lent me by Dr. Ash, called " The Grounds of a Holy Life."
Believe the author to be a Friend in principle, if not in
profession. Read Paul s fine address to Agrippa to the
servants, and remarks on Paul s letter to Titus, by H. Tarford ;
hope they understood it ; it explains the nature of grace, and
clearly. Cough very troublesome. Now to bed, thankful
for the mercies and favours of the day. The poor Duke of
York ! would I knew what his death-bed feelings and hopes
were, and on what grounded.
(8th.) Rose unwell ; but my mind was particularly calm.
Finished M. R. Mitford s pretty book, and wrote out my new
fable. After tea wrote two sheets of my new book. Heard
of poor Lady H. s death. How I feel for her childless,
fond mother ! and how thankful that I was permitted to live
to cheer my dear father s age, and attend his dying bed, much
as I have suffered, and still suffer, for his loss.
(9th.) Wrote a good deal in the morning. Lady H. not
dead ; how glad I am ! Too hoarse at night to read much
to the servants. On the whole went to bed rather pleased
with my day, but expecting to cough.
(llth.) Meeting a very satisfactory one. C. came and sat
an hour or two. Got, alas ! on religious subjects ; a most
painful conversation ; but I vt&s made, I hope, beneficially
sensible, how poor a pleader I am, as yet, in the best of causes ;
but I tried to do it justice. Went to my uncle s at nine ;
passed a pleasant evening, but was detained by a dangerous
accident to H. P. s coachman, and I waited to hear how he
was. Did not get home till half-past eleven. Read to the
servants, and sent them to bed. Sat up in my own room and
read the second volume of A. s, that it might not encroach on
the business of the morrow. Read a psalm and went to bed,
not dissatisfied with my day ; but feeling how wrong it is to
let a day pass without employing it really well. Mem. made
a resolution not to speak slightingly again of if I can
help it. (12th.) Had a bad night, but rose with a thankful
spirit, I trust. Staid at home all the morning, and wrote
some of my book. Had the joy of hearing of E. P. s safe
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 203
confinement. Went to Lady J. W. s, met several friends,
and had a pleasant evening ; E. M. played admirably. Read
as usual, and to bed, thankful that I had passed so favoured
a day. (13th.) Rose late, and was the better for my morning
sleep. Wrote to several friends, and in the evening had a
small party. Made two good likenesses, as they said.*
(14th.) A night of cough, but of comfort; and rose in
spirits; a painfully windy walk to meeting; an agreeable
surprise there. J. J. G. returned this morning unexpectedly
from London. He was much favoured in his ministry to-day,
morning and evening. Called on poor old B., and read the
43rd of Isaiah to him. Called on poor P. U., found her
very low indeed, and no wonder ; these are early times with
her yet, poor bereaved being ! The sight of such upsetting
and destroying grief is very affecting, and I have only too
much sympathy with her. We have both lost our earthly
all! Was prevented, by the weather, from calling on
the M.s, and it was fortunate, as the wind had brought
down their chimnies in a most destructive manner, though
providentially no lives were lost, as they had taken alarm and
removed the children. " His tender mercies are over all his
works ! " A quiet evening ; read to the servants ; hope they
understood. (15th.) Coughed all night, and unable, alas! to
go to E., but when I had recovered the disappointment, passed
some tranquil and agreeable hours. I read " Gait s Life of
Wolsey" with interest. To bed thankful, and rather better ;
could only read a psalm to the servants. (16th.) Rose rather
better, but not well enough to go to E. ; wrote a great deal
of my book, to carry to-morrow, if well enough to go. Read
through my own " Temper," never saw so many faults in it
before ; still I like some of the remarks on detraction so welL
that I think of inserting them in my new book. Shall lay
* Mrs. Opie is constantly mentioning the likenesses she takes of
her various friends. It was her custom, from a very early period,
to take profile likenesses, in pencil, of those who visited her. Several
hundreds of these sketches were preserved in books and folios.
204 MEMORIALS OF THE
my head on my pillow with less self-blame for the faults of
the day than usual. (17th.) Eose refreshed, and better than
for many days ; went to E., and enjoyed being with my dear
friends again. I had a long tete a tete with J. J. G., and read
my MS. to him, he did not approve it as a whole ; thought
the tone too low generally, but liked parts of it ; I shall leave
out and amend much. Read a psalm in my own room to my
maid, and went to bed full of good resolutions, and ardent
desires and prayers to be satisfied in them. (18th.) .Rose
refreshed, not gay, but very peaceful; went to meeting,
very still and solemn ; a time of precious, conscious favour
to me. J. J. G. spoke quite to my state, the first time he
rose ; and I felt the force of the admonition the second time ;
but / had had no work to do, and left meeting, so far, with a
clean conscience. I called on friends, and sat some time with
my aunt, E. A.; to bed with much comfort and thankfulness.
(19th.) To Earlham with J. J. G., and read my MS. to him
and the sisters ; they were all very encouraging ; with what
a thankful heart I am going to rest ! (21st.) Left Earlham
grateful for many happy hours spent there. Came to meeting ;
J. J. G. particularly favoured in his ministry ; painful to me
to break up. Alone all the afternoon and evening ; read in
the Italian Bible ; am going to bed comforted and thankful ;
but had, at morning meeting, one of my paroxysms of regret
for ill-fulfilled duties, and was brought very low ; " but He
helped me," and all is peace again, and I shall lie down in
quiet. (22nd.) An unsatisfactory day, except as I read in
my Italian Bible, and to the servants. (23rd.) Tranquil at
rising, and wrote all the morning, till I went to E., where I
met Lady H. G.. D. G., and dear A. G. ; a happy day I and
am going to bed thankful. (24th.) Obliged to leave E.,
preferred doing so ; I wanted to go home to draw U. M. for
her dying lover ; I succeeded entirely, they thought ; felt
thankful to be so enabled. (25th.) To meeting, a marriage
there. I went a round of visiting invalid friends, and a poor
woman ; in the afternoon, went out again and visited another
afflicted invalid. Felt my mind tenderly impressed with pity,
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 205
and with thankfulness for my own health. Saw dear O. A.
Woodhouse, glad to see him for many sakes; evening, wrote,
and to bed at eleven, most thankful and peaceful. (26th.)
Going to dine at E. with a crowd. The party tolerably agree
able, considering its size; a day, not entirely lost, I trust.
(27th.) Went to the jail, and had a satisfactory meeting with
the women there. To bed not satisfied with myself. (28th.)
Meeting a most favoured one ; dear J. J. G. very impressive
and affecting, with a view to his departure for Ireland ; wrote
to H. G., and received from him a most satisfactory answer,
authorizing me to draw on him for s wants; how
kind ! like him ! thankful am I, that I have been the means
of serving her! to bed peaceful and thankful. (30th.) Rose
well and happy, and settled my weekly accounts; in the even
ing wrote letters. I have been comforted all day through
the tender sorrowful remembrance of him who is gone ; and
the memory of his deep and ever-enduring and unselfish love,
is frequently recurring and dinging to me ; and death alone,
I believe, can ever banish him from my daily and fond, grate
ful recollection ; but, " it is well ; " I can say so, from the
bottom of my heart, and though I remain, I murmur not
now to bed, with thankfulness, though with tears.
(1st February, 2nd mo.) Not much sleep in the night; a
pleasant breakfast, and most refreshing sweet meeting.
Tears would flow, but was able to supplicate for our dear
departing friends, and to return thanks for being able to part
with them so cheerfully. Two years ago, how I should have
felt it, on mine and my dearest father s account ; but I feel
indifferent whether he be here when / die, or not.
Now to bed, calm and thankful. An idle, I fear, and, so far,
a sinful day ; gave 1 to a case that touched me ; was I fear,
too much, but could not help it. (2nd.) O. Woodhouse
here ; glad to feel that a son of my beloved cousin, and
bearing his name, is under my roof! Our evening has been
placid, part spent in talk, and part in reading. Now to bed,
rather depressed that I have done nothing to-day to improve
myself, except reading in the Bible I begin to feel that my
206 MEMORIALS OF THE
time must be made profitable, or I cannot be happy; my
solitary evenings are my happiest time, and shortest, because
employed ! Oh ! that I had earlier thought thus. Then
would " my peace have been as a river, and my righteousness
as the waves of the sea" perhaps but I am, and was, vile.
(3rd.) Forced myself to go and see, and minister to the
wants of, some poor people, (4th.) Meeting, a mixed one
of favoured and wandering thoughts; L. A. very sweet in her
ministry. (5th.) Rose cheerful, went to visit various friends.
To my dear father s grave, and the other graves of those dear
to me ; how I wished he might see me, and read my heart.
Went and read to the poor widow B., and visited others.
(6th.) Rose well, and cheerful. Went to call on that
wretched girl in the workhouse. She cried, but I believe
she wished to see me only to get money. Mean to get the
prayer-book I gave her out of pawn. The committee of the
new Magdalen met here to-day. I like the matron.
On the 7th inst, Mrs. Opie went to visit her friends
at Northrepps ; each day has its entry. She was
evidently cheered, and her spirits revived and braced
by this visit. Returning home on the 23rd of the
month, her last entry there is " I leave N. C. with
a heart full of grateful love to its dear possessors.
Alas ! to bed for the last time here this year, and,
perhaps, for ever! Peace be to this house!"
(Journal resumed at home.)
(Norwich, 24th.) Had, as usual, some paroxysms of
agonizing feeling, at missing the object once there to meet
me, yet grateful to find kind and affectionate friends here.
All things here, right and well; to bed, with a grateful
heart for the mercies shewn me, and the blessings that
remain. (25th.) A good night, and a thankful waking.
Enjoyed meeting much, called at the workhouse, &c. After
noon meeting silent, but I trust refreshing. Evening a
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 207
comfortable reading to the servants. (26th.) A good and
favoured night, rose happy. * * * Wrote letters. A time
of storm and calm ; one of my paroxysms of grief for the
dead, and self-blame for omitted duty, succeeded by calm and
peacefulness. (27th.) Paid three visits of charity. Went
to the workhouse ; saw the child, and thought her, perhaps
obstinate, but quite an object of pity and interest ; thought
her, too, going into a decline; carried her coquilles and
oranges. Saw P. C. ; death was in her face, seemingly, and
seemingly contrite; but even then, I find, she told me a
lie. Not to be believed for a word s speaking I Oh that
workhouse ! " There s something rotten in the state of
Denmark!" Spent a happy evening; good intentions, if
not good deeds. (28th.) A good night and bright awaking.
Dined at Earlham. Next day very pleasant. (2nd.)
A good night, and much thankfulness on waking. Wrote a
" Tale of Truth." To the workhouse. After a happy evening
alone, to bed, in great peace of mind. (4th.) Meeting very
still and refreshing ; L. A. much favoured. Wrote several
verses to the memory of Bishop Heber. (5th of the 3rd mo.)
Had a good night, and peace of mind, when awake. Visited
poor B., and admired his thankfulness for living where he
can see the blue sky, and the birds, and a rainbow, as he lies
in bed ! Went to Sick Poor Committee. Monthly Meeting,
too low to enjoy it. One of my sad, sad fits of regret for
omitted filial duties, and for things done and undone, said
and unsaid : but feel this ever recurring trial to be inflicted
in mercy, and to keep me lowly and humble before my
Creator. Fear, however, that the feeling increases, and that
it may be a temptation. Find what H. Girdlestone said to
me once, the most comforting reply to my fears of omitted
duty, " You seem to have expected that a sinful being should
have performed a duty perfectly ; but it was not in nature
to do it." Well ! I have only to hope that my agonies and
tears may be an accepted sacrifice, and that they may keep
me humble, as they spring from a sense of my own vileness.
To bed early, as I dare not risk a recurrence of my lowness,
208 MEMORIALS OF THE
and sleep may come soon. (6th.) A good night, rose
cheerful. Went to the Committee of Infant School, and
took the week s visiting there. S. Rose with me in the
evening. Calm and thankful. (7th.) Infant School; thought
the children improved, but yet troublesome and disobedient.
To the Magdalen Committee not quite satisfied. (8th.)
Hose cheerful, and eager for meeting. On the whole, satis
factory ; Monthly Meeting, though, rather long. Read some
books from London in the evening did not like them ;
dissatisfied with so employing my time. (10th.) Rose early.
Bought cakes for the children, and went to Infant School.
Thence to the jail : found two new women there ; read and
talked to them seriously. Had tea alone. Cucchi called in
the evening ; read two psalms aloud, in Italian, to him, and
translated them. (13th.) To the School: class attentive and
orderly ; a cake each, to the children ; sale of work afterwards.
Came home to dress. Both my friends looking well and in
high spirits ; felt thankful to see them so ; all good be with
them ! Dined at my uncle s at six. *** Finished
reading the "Hedge of Thorns" to the servants. (14th.)
To Earlham; a most happy time there. (15th.) Ditto.
(Journal discontinued, till the 13th April.)
(April 14th.) Rose low and self-abased. At the jail, read
tracts to the women, and the Prodigal Son ; was satisfied
with the manner of two of them ; but have no faith in their
amendment, in one way, while the turnkeys are men, and
men on business are admitted, where women could do as well ;
but this is, I fear, a thing which will never be remedied. * *
(loth, 1st day.) A sweet, favoured meeting. Silence, I
trust, blest to me; the ministry lively and touching. My
Cousin R. to tea; went over his sermon with him; time
went unconsciously. (16th.) Letters and calls. After
dinner went to sit by poor E. D. s bedside, read several
hymns to her ; she bade me, I believe, what she thought, a
last farewell ! She is on the Rock, and one ought not to
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 209
regret her. What a sweet letter Edward Irving has
written to her! * * * * To bed, thankful,
instructed, I hope, and cheered. (19th.) Rose before seven,
and lighted my fire ; wrote till half- past eight. Meeting a
favoured one.- " The fire on the altar." Called on A. B.,
an interesting woman, and wish I could do more for her.
She has been used to such excellent society, and an object
of interest and kindness to so many. She talks rapidly,
and raises her voice sometimes, as all nervous people do ;
I wonder whether checking her, and saying "do not talk
so fast ! " would do her good. Not intimate enough yet to
risk it. Lost a great deal of time to-day reading an old
favourite displeased and shocked even, at my waste of time,
and my life so far spent ! " God be merciful to me a sinner !"
my constant and necessary close of every day s and night s
prayer. (21st.) Went out on H. G. s business* How
pleasant to have to give pleasure, whether with my own or
others money ! Poor might indeed be grateful to him.
Went after a poor man, but could not find him; probably
only a street beggar. Went to poor A. B. ; what a sufferer!
but resigned. Called on my aunt, sorry I could not stay
with her. To bed, with many pleasing feelings, thankful for
unmerited mercies. What a generous Master we serve I
(6th of the 5th mo.) What indolence and neglect I from
21st of last mo. not a line written in my journal! Oh for
power to be more diligent in future ; but how soon, through
life, have I been weary in well doing I To-day, felt solemnly
and deeply engaged, in secret prayer, at meeting. Yesterday
and to dinner ; how little either of them, poor
things, seemed to think of their great change ! though one
is 76, the other 73. Dress, cards, the world! But let me
look to my own blindness and worldliness, and not censure
theirs ; and to me the voice has spoken, " Come," and how
have I obeyed it ? Alas ! Visited a sick friend and a poor
lost girl, just released from jail; read Rutherford s letters
all the afternoon: wrote for votes for a charity-boy; read
to the servants, and to bed, not so dissatisfied as usual with
210 MEMORIALS OF THE
my day s work; may I be humbled, and enabled to rise
early to my work to-morrow, and may the labours of my pen
be blest !
(3rd day, 7th.) Kose early ; to Infant School ; little boys
idle and ignorant in my class ! one, however, good and diligent ;
then called on A. B., found her low for her dear sister s death,
but enjoyed my call. Went to the jail, have hopes of one
woman ; the other is sorry for detection, not for sin ; but these
are early times yet ; her temper seems bad, i. e. if expression
is to be trusted ; two calls on my way home. Tired, but not
displeased with my day. * * *
The Journal here breaks off, not to be renewed (as
a note, added at the close, tells us) until 1829, " in
another book." "We shall close this chapter with an
extract from a letter written in the autumn of this
year, to her friends at Northrepps Cottage.
How every day teems with eventful changes ;
F. and C., dear ones, have to inhabit a new abode ; but
death, death is the change of changes ! How trumpery, how
unimportant, seem all changes compared to that; and how
that changes even the very look of existence to many of us !
Sometimes it is almost unbearable to me ; and I could run
into the next room to look for what I cannot find, and cannot
see again, and which yet se"ems blooming beside me, and
cheerful, and living, and likely to live ! and then I think
how little I prized him while I had him with me ! Oh ! you
know some of these feelings, and can deeply sympathize with
me in what a child alone can feel. How deeply have I
entered into the feelings of my estimable friend T. E,., (an
only child,) on the loss of his mother, who lived with him ;
I expressed my feelings as follows :
At length, then, the tenderest of mothers is gone !
Her smile, her love-accents, can glad thee no more ;
That once cheerful chamber is silent and lone,
And, for thee, all a child s precious duties are o er.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 211
Her welcome at morning, her blessing at night,
No longer the crown of thy comforts can be ;
And the friend seen and lov d, since thine eyes first saw light,
Thou can st ne er see again ! thou art orphan d like me.
change ! from which nature must shrink overpower d,
Till faith shall the anguish remove and condemn,
For the change to those blest ones "who die in the Lord,"
Though to us it brings sorrow, gives glory to them.
9th mo., 1827.
p 2
212 MEMORIALS OF THE
CHAPTER XV.
YEARLY MEETINGS; LETTER FROM LONDON; LETTERS FROM LADIES
CORK AND CHARLEYILLE ; " DETRACTION DISPLAYED;" LETTER FROM
ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM ; CROMER j DIARY FOR 1829.
FROM the time Mrs. Opie joined the Friends, she
regularly attended the Yearly Meetings of the Society,
held in London during the month of May. At these
seasons she met numerous friends and acquaintances,
and had an opportunity of attending the meetings of
various societies, in whose objects she sympathized,
and of which the Bible, and the British and Foreign
School, and Anti-Slavery Societies, were among the
most valued. What cordial interest she always
evinced on these occasions, and with how much
animation and lively description, she loved to detail,
afterwards, what she had heard and seen ! Her eye
kindled as she recalled the eloquent address of some
friend of the wronged and helpless, and her delighted
approval was a meed which a good man might well
rejoice to have earned.
Shortly after the entry in her journal, with which
the preceding chapter concluded, she went to London,
for the purpose of attending the Yearly Meeting.
Many painful regrets and memories of the past were
unavoidable ; but she bore up against them, and the
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 213
effort was beneficial. Solitude, prolonged solitude,
preyed upon her spirits, and her essentially social
nature languished and pined under it. One letter to
the friend before alluded to, contains some interesting
particulars of her proceedings during this visit.
Bradpole, Bridport, Dorsetshire,
6tlimo.,29th, 1827.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
: Pray excuse my long silence. I know
nothing of N. since I left it. I have had a feeling which has
made me indifferent, not only to writing letters, but to
receiving them. It was so different once ; and my life, during
the last three weeks in London, has realized my loss to me
more than ever. I have had pleasing and gratifying things
to relate ; but, alas ! he, to whom the relation would have
given such pleasure, is gone; and even on the instant my
pleasure has been swallowed up in pain ; but this is weak and
earthly, and I will forbear. My life in London, during and
after the Meeting, has been very happily spent. My lodgings
were too far from Devonshire House ; but I always got
there in time, and when meeting was over, T. R. generally
came home with me. Yearly Meeting was peculiarly
sweet to me this year, and satisfactory to Friends. I
attended the African Meeting at the Freemason s Tavern:
it was this year quite thin. Spring Rice, Chas. Barclay,
and the Duke of Gloucester, were among the speakers. I
saw Lady S. and her daughter, and gladly acceded to their
request that I would sit by them. The Duke of Gloucester
spoke to them, coming and going ; but though he bowed to
me, I was sure he did not know me ; so on his returning, I
begged Lady S. to name me, and he seemed so glad to see
me, and talked some time, retaining my hand in his. (I hope
friends behind were not scandalized.) There was an Ame
rican lady who came up and introduced herself to me, and
begged me to call on her, adding that Sir W. Scott s niece
was staying with her ; accordingly, I called on them at Ellis s
214 MEMORIALS OF THE
Hotel, St. James Street, when my new friend (sweet food for
vanity, and I hope also for some better feeling) told me that
my " Odd-tempered Man" had reformed a dear friend of hers,
and she seemed to remember far more of it than I do. *
I promised to call at Lady Cork s and ask leave to intro
duce the two ladies to her: and I did so, their footman
attending me, to hear Lady C. s reply. She sent a gracious
message back, and accordingly they came, just as Lady C.
Lamb had arrived, so they saw her; but so changed! I
should hardly have known her.
On 6th day morning, I went to Lord Roden s, to hear him
read and expound the Scriptures. At two o clock every Friday
he had this meeting, during his stay in London. The com
pany was numerous, and several persons of quality among
them. He is, indeed, a highly gifted man ; but, my dear, I
have since been at a meeting which will interest thee more.
Since I came to London I have heard of many whom I left
in the world, being come out of it ; amongst the rest, Thos.
Erskine and his wife. At a bazaar for the schools in St.
Giles , held at the Hanover Square Rooms, (at which many
of the sellers were Irish nobility,) I saw some friends, who
prevailed on me to go and dine with them, and there I met
Caroline Fry, with whom I talked of thee. At dinner they
spoke of Mrs. Stephens, who, they said, was to expound
that evening, at a friend s house near, and I consented to go
with them to hear her. It was a large assembly, and I found
there many of my bazaar friends. I was warmly welcomed,
especially by the fair expounder. Sir James Mackintosh s
daughter (the widow of M. Rich) introduced me to Lady
G. Wolff. Her spouse did not come till late. Though tired
with the bazaar, &c., and as sleepy as possible, that extraor
dinary and gifted being kept my attention fixed an hour and
a half. How eloquent and touching were her words I
When it was over, I went up to her ; and, as I could not
express my feelings, I gave her a kiss, and she afterwards
embraced me, and we promised to meet if ever we came near
each other s habitation. I then stole away. It is certainly
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 215
an extraordinary power, and many of the clergy who disap
prove of woman s ministry, have been brought round to
approve; but I do not call hers ministry, except in prayer.
She has done this twenty-two years, and still she does not
seem old. How I wish thou hadst been there !
I came here, quite knocked up ; but this green flowery
sequestered nest, amongst hills, and the sweet society of
dear friends, will, I trust, soon restore me. Pray write to
thy attached friend,
A. OPIE.
In this letter Mrs. Opie mentions having called on
Lady Cork ; their friendship had been of long stand
ing, and not even the great change in Mrs. O. s
habits and opinions could estrange from her this early
friend. Soon after she joined the Friends, Lady Cork
wrote to her thus :
e Si vous etes heureuse, je ne suis pas mallieureuse" used to
be my motto to you. I must be glad that you are happy ;
but I must confess I have too much self, not to feel it a tug
at my heart, the no-chance I have of enjoying your society
again. Will your primitive cap never dine with me, and enjoy
a quiet society ? but really, am I never to see you again ?
Your parliament friend does not wear a broad-brimmed
hat; so pray, pray, pray do not put on the bonnet. So come
to me and be my love, in a dove-coloured garb, and a simple
head-dress. Teach us your pure morals, and your friend of
the lower House shall join us, and approve of your com
pliance. He will agree with me, that good people, mixing with
the world, are of infinitely more use than when they confine
themselves to one set. Pray treat me with a letter sometimes ;
and when you do write, (if you happen to think of it,) say
whether your Norwich goods are cheaper upon the spot than
I can get them in town this is of no consequence. Cannot
you give me one of your 200 pictures ? you re welcome to
216 MEMORIALS OF THE
my phiz, if you will come and paint it, or shall I step to you ?
I could fill a paper with fun, but the cold water of your last
makes me end my letter. God bless you ! Adieu.
Yours ever, sinner or saint,
M. CORK AND ORRERY.
What I do you give up Holkham, your singing and music,
and do you really see harm in singing? Now F. sings all
day long, and thinks it her duty.
Her friend Lady Charleville, too, wrote kindly and
feelingly :
London, le lOme Avril, 1828.
Pour avoir le plaisir de te tutoyer, je t ecris, ma chere,
en Fra^ois, ou Ton tutoye naturellement celles que Ton
aime. ***
Et je te jure que, quand tu te ferois Bramine, cela me
seroit egale, tant que tu conserverais pour moi la meme
bonte que jadis ! Le prince C. m a parle de la mort de ton
cher pere, mais il m a assure que je ne devois point t ecrire a
ce sujet, pour te rappeller 1 abime de douleur ou tu etois
dans le premier temps.
Ma chere Madame Opie, j ai partagee la douleur, et je sais
ce que c est d etre privee de Pobjet qui nous est cher.
* * Pour la secte dont tu fais partie, je la respecte
au-de-la de toutes les autres. Je ne vois rien d outre dans
leur facons de penser, et je voudrais etre assez bonne pour
me conduire comme eux.
Viens nous voir j en serai trop enchantee ; ton coeur
n est point change, et je suis sure que ta costume ne te
rendra pas moins interessante pour tes amis. Comptez,
ma chere, que le temps ne fait nul effet sur moi, pour changer
a 1 interet que je prendrai toute ma vie a toi.
E. M. CHARLEVILLE.
There is something in the evident truthfulness and
genuine feeling of these letters, which convinces
one that there were many sacrifices of feeling, and
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 217
poignant regrets^to be felt, in parting from the com
panions and sympathies of the past.
In 1828 " Detraction Displayed " was published.
Among the many acknowledgments Mrs. O. received
from her friends on this occasion, was a letter from
Archdeacon Wrangham, to whom she had alluded in
this work. He writes :
September 10th, 1828.
DEAR MRS. OPIE,
Having now read by snatches, as my little
leisure has permitted, "Detraction Displayed," I hasten
to acknowledge the pleasure (and I trust I may also add
profit) which I have derived from it. It is the conscien
tious work of a very gifted writer, and cannot be read
without producing, by God s accompanying blessing, ex
cellent effects. The subtilty of the spirit, which you have
endeavoured to lay, is such, that even the worthy, in many
cases, inhale and exhale it, almost unawares ; persons who
require only putting upon their guard, to avoid it scrupu
lously for the future. I don t believe the Greek Alphabet,
if such be the probable result of your volume, and its Alphas
and Betas, &c., ever accomplished a more valuable service,
since the days of Cadmus, its reputed inventor. So far do
morals outgo mere literature.
I cannot be insensible to your kind compliment in p. 231,
and I am happy to be able to say, that none of my epigrams
have had malice as their motive, though some, perhaps, a little
mechancete in their composition. I rejoice to see your com
pliment to Mrs. Hemans, who is indeed a " charming writer,"
and I would send you my Latin version of the two epigrams
of pp. 227, 228, as, having been made some years ago, (the
latter upwards of thirty,) they prove that my taste on the
subject concurs with your own, if I did not fear that it
might look like pedantry. *
Yours, dear Mrs. Opie, most faithfully,
JOHN WRANGHAM.
218 MEMORIALS OF THE
In the month of June Mrs. Opie, writing from
Upton, to Miss Buxton and Miss Gurney, gave them
an account of her proceedings during her sojourn in
town ; and thus records her impressions of a scene
which greatly interested her :
* * * I wished for you both, the other evening, when
I had the inexpressible delight of hearing and seeing some of
the very first men in the country, assembled to celebrate the
Repeal of the Sacramental Test. One of the select com
mittee, (Henry Way mouth,) kindly saved a ticket for me ;
which admitted me into a gallery just over the table where
they sat ; a private gallery, holding only twelve. We
entered our box at half-past four, before the company came,
having to go through the room to it. However, the time did
not seem long, although the tables were not covered till half-
past six. When the company was assembled, the Duke of
Sussex arrived, and many with him. Previously, however,
the clapping of hands had announced some one of consequence,
and this was Sir F. Burdett, who took his seat under us, and
so near, that we saw him always. I never heard acclamations
and applause before this evening, (I may say.) The sounds
were deafening. When the Duke was seated, the gallant
band and true was arranged, beside and around him. Lord
J. Russell on the right hand; Lord Holland on the left.
Brougham, announced by loud clapping, sat where we saw
him always and perfectly ; but I wished him nearer. I
suppose my friend Gurney told him I was to be there, for
he put his hand to his cheek, and looking up at me, gave me
one of his comical looks of recognition. * * * I was
disappointed at F. Buxton s not being there; however, I
heard admirable speaking from Lord Holland particularly,
and Brougham, Burdett, Lord Carnarvon, and every one,
indeed, did well. Brougham, however, deservedly, my
favourite speaker. Sir Francis spoke well, and gracefully,
but with a tone. Brougham has such a voice ! and his action
is perfect, I think. In common speaking his voice is not very
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 219
sweet; but in haranguing it is exquisite. Durham, fine also;
and deep. Oh ! it was one of the greatest treats I ever had ;
and in proportion waa my sadness when I remembered that I
had no one to relate it to, who would, as formerly, have
doubled my pleasure by reflecting it perfectly. It was one
in the morning before the Duke departed, having well per
formed his duty. I had been so absorbed in attending, that
I did not suppose it was eleven o clock ! I could have sat all
night. We had ice, fruit, champaign, hock, tea, and coffee
sent up to us ; and in the lady behind me I found a most
pleasant companion, and every minute told.
In the autumn of this year, Mrs. Opie repaired to
her much-loved Cromer ; her notes contain some
poetical pieces, written during this visit, from which
we select the following lines,
WRITTEN ON THE SEA SHORE.
Hth mo., 1828.
Above, lo ! cloud to cloud succeeds,
Below, the waves in surges roll,
Bounding and white as Grecian steeds,
That bore their monarch to the goal.
Now, his swift wings the sea bird lowers,
For well he reads the angry skies,
And ere the storm its fury pours,
For shelter to the rock he flies.
Bird of the wave ! when dangers threat,
When life looks dark and conflicts roar,
Should deep remorse and vain regret
Rouse in my heart desponding fear ;
May I for shelter seek, like thee,
Shelter, which can all fears remove,
And to my rock of refuge flee ;
A dying Saviour s pardoning love !
220 MEMORIALS OF THE
From Cromer Mrs. Opie went to Northrepps, on a
visit to her friends at the Cottage, and, while there,
she resumed the Journal which had for a time been
discontinued.
New Year s day, 1829. Rose at seven o clock, after a good
night ; feeling thankful for being once more under the
hospitable roof of friends, so very dear, and so very kind. * *
At the close of the day went to my room, grateful for the
enjoyment I have had ; but, as far as Christian duty goes, I
fear it has been a day of selfish enjoyment only, a day for
time, but what for eternity ? however, if I have not per
formed one good action, I trust I have not committed any
great offence; but then, are not sins of omission as bad as
sins of commission ? If so, alas for me and myriads of
others !
(3rd.) Rose very thankful for a refreshing night. But
my dreams were affecting in the retrospect ; they carried me
back to the second house I ever lived in, and where my
mother died. I saw her, and my dear father, and the room
so plainly ! and all the past came rushing over me ; both
gone ! What a comfort to remember what my father said to
me, when he announced her death to me : " she is gone ! and
may you, Amelia, never have cause to blush when you see
her again ! " How often, during my succeeding years, did
those words of parental warning recur to me, and pleasantly !
The dearest wish of my heart is to see both my parents again ;
and perhaps it will one day be gratified. Surely, where
parents do their duty, children can never know a tie stronger,
or as strong, as their earliest dependence on a parent s love
produces ! and, after the lapse of many years, how fresh and
vivid still are the recollections of parental and filial love !
At least, / feel them to be so.
(4th.) A night to be thankful for. Snow on the ground
and trees, when I rose ; happily, I had given up all idea of
going to S. Meeting, for fear of making myself ill again.
My dear friends and the family gone to church ; I going to
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 221
keep my meeting in my own room. The snow is falling from
the trees, and taking away the beauty it gave ; but the sky
seems likely to bring it again. The wind is to the N.E. and
high, and one cannot but fear for ships at sea ; so my bene
volent friends have ordered out the fishermen who look after
the gun, to keep watch along the cliff. May He, who rules
the waves, watch over the endangered I * * *
I have enjoyed my first day, even though I have not been
to meeting. It is sweet to know one is in a worshipping
family !
(6th.) Sleet and snow abounding; made drawings of three
of my friends, and rode out in a snow storm, and enjoyed it.
* * * To bed latish, with pleasant recollections of the day,
though burdened with the sin of having desired the accession
of ^ great wealth that is, of power, and the means of self-grati
fication. Who is to be trusted with such a gift ? Not I, I
am sure ; and ought I not to know that wishes are a species
of murmurs, and that "nevertheless, Thy will not mine be
done," is the only proper language ? (9th.) Beading Wash
ington Irving s Columbus how interesting ! As well satisfied
as I can be, while doing nothing for the good of others.
(10th.) Drove to Sheringham, and returned in a storm of
sleet, just in time to keep my engagement at H. B. s ; and
arrived there as the clock struck jive, punctual, to my heart s
content. * * To bed grateful for much, but most, for having
been able, in some instances, during the evening, to speak
according to my own moral standard, whether vainly or not.
(14th.) A good night; was dressed by eight, but so absorbed
in the psalms, and in making extracts from Columbus, that
I did not hear the reading bell, and lost the reading, which
I regretted. * * After dinner we drove out ; but previously
1 wrote a little account of cruelty to a dog. We had a most
charming drive. It was a bright afternoon, and the sky over
the sea was full of tints, and such a glorious setting sun^
which clothed the church steeple, and many other prominent
objects in sunshine, as we came down the road from Rough ton I
But, welcome were our home, and our smiling fire, and wel-
222 MEMORIALS OF THE
coming friend! (16th.) Drove out to D. B. s, to see my
epitaph on the stone. Thankful to have given pleasure to
the son, by these lines. Oh that, like the epitaph named by
Legh Richmond, in his Young Cottager, they may be made
the means of good ! A happy evening, to bed thankful for
much, though not satisfied with my own conduct. (17th.) A
good night to return thanks for. Drove to see that house,
where I had so often been with those most dear, now in their
graves my husband, and my cousin Olyett Woodhouse !
Dear O ! when he went away and sold this estate, he hoped
to repurchase it, and return ; but he is in his Indian grave !
What a trial his death was to me ! but my last loss annihilated,
in a great measure, the sense of every other. (18th, first day.)
Grieved I could not get to meeting, but I must bear it as well
as I can. My own sitting, a favoured and comforting one.
After dinner, set off to see the poor widow Green, a blind
woman of 89 ; read to her a long time, and gave her money.
Went to the cliff; the sea and sky truly interesting. * * To
bed with sabbath feelings. (19th.) Went to see the skaters.
Lord Suffield came up to us ; and, while we admired the tints
of the sky, which were pale green over the sea, melting into
pale blue, and then gradually deepening, till they became the
deepest, richest, indigo and purple, over our heads, he
observed, that he had often, but vainly, tried to convince
distant friends that our skies in Norfolk, near the sea, have
the finest tints he ever saw, and pale green particularly.
(22nd.) A most comfortable sitting of two hours in my
own room. Thought of dear N. friends, and wished myself
there, (at meeting,) but was thankful for my lonely opportu
nity. * If I were not so idle, and were nearer a
meeting, my happiness could know no drawback ; especially
when we three are alone together. (23rd.) Such a good
night ! We read as usual ; afterwards dear A. was dragged in
her hand-chair, to visit the cottages and the sea. The cold,
on going out, was intense ; the snow in our faces ; but I got
warm with walking, and enjoyed the scene and the visits.
Went to the cliff, and saw, on the shore, planks and baulks,
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 223
which a most angry sea had washed up ; a wreck, no doubt,
somewhere,the fishermen said. Fresh barley had floated to
land also, and we went to a farm yard near, to see a ladder,
bearing the inscription of Exmouth, Hull. My dear friend
ordered the men to be on the alert, and watch, lest any vessel
should be in distress on the coast, that the mortar might be
used. Happily, however, we heard of none being in sight.
Drew three likenesses ; two, reckoned very good. Alas ! it
was my last evening at the dear cottage ! and it was one of
love and interest ; and, to me, of thankfulness that I have
such friends.
Of this walk in the snow, Mrs. Opie afterwards
wrote a pleasing account, part of which we subjoin:
* * * Snow had continued to fall, and I to admire ;
but we became impatient of keeping the house, and resolved
to go out in some way or other. Accordingly, as to use the
horses was impossible, I equipped myself for walking, and
one of my friends for going in a chair on wheels. But
when the moment for our departure arrived, I felt very loth
to leave the fire-side, and envied the dear companion, who,
not daring to brave the cold, was left to enjoy its cheering
precincts. However, though casting "a longing lingering
look behind," both on my friend and the fire, I sallied forth.
The wind was a keen north-easter, and blew full in our faces,
while I, though shuddering in the blast, ankle deep in snow,
and with fingers in agony, romantically attempted to con
vince myself how delightful the walk was, by repeating a
sonnet to winter, written in the days of my youth. But even
my own fictions had not power to warm me ; and as, with
blue and quivering lip, I spouted my tuneful admiration of
what was taking away my breath, and inflicting pain on me
besides, I ended in a hearty laugh at my own absurdity ; in
which, as my companion was not sensible of what I was
doing, since the wind blew my words away from her, she
happily could not join, and I kept my own counsel.
224 MEMORIALS OP THE
I then tried to beguile my sense of cold, by admiring the
group before me. Methought we should have made a figure
in a landscape not that there was aught picturesque in my
dress ; still, my full long cloak was blown by the wind into
folds, which would, in a picture, have turned, I flatter myself,
to some account ; but my friend in her chair, the servants and
the dogs who accompanied us, made a group which, as I said
before, might have employed the pencil to advantage. Yes,
we had three dogs with us, one of them was a fine black
curly Newfoundland dog, called Charley ; and his companion
was a small terrier. The Marquise de Sevigne said of a
friend of hers, that he abused the privilege which men have
to be ugly and I think poor Hefty has abused the privilege
which terriers have to be so ; au reste, he is a good dog, but,
like his species, high-minded and aristocratic. Every one
knows that dogs do not like the poor, or their houses j pro
bably there is something in the smell of poverty which
displeases their nice organs.
The terrier in question, when, to his great annoyance, one
day, I forced him into a cottage, got under my chair, and
would not stir from it while I staid, wrapping himself up
meanwhile, in the train of my silk gown.
The servants were forced to keep a sharp look out after
Hefty and Charley, because they knew there were plenty of
pheasants and hares in the coverts, alongside of which we
passed, and seemed to think a chase after them would be an
agreeable pastime ; while their bounding feet, ever and anon
on the verge of trespassing, and the exemplary readiness with
which, better taught than most children, they obeyed the
calling voice to return, gave interest and cheerfulness to our
walk.
The third dog was a short-legged, big-bodied, over-fed, tiny,
pet spaniel, with brown ears, that almost swept the snow as
he waddled along. Why he came out at all I know not, as
he has no vocation for any exertion save that of eating,
lapping, and barking ; and, I believe, if Jackey could have
spoken, he would have begged Charley and Hefty not to
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 225
walk quite so fast, but wait for him. At last, the poor little
body was so tired, that his mistress took him on her lap, and,
while his really pretty head peeped over her arm, he added to
the picturesqueness of our group.
We had some way to go, before we came to a habitation,
a ad the " untrodden snow," extending on all sides, made the
scene appear unusually desolate. The Parish Church, too,
which we passed, added to the desolation. The greater part
of it, that is, the whole body, is a ruin ; but part of the nave is
still entire, and able to hold the population of O . It is,
perhaps, one of the smallest churches in England, but I doubt
whether there be one, in which the service is performed with
more exemplary zeal and heartfelt sincerity, or where the wor
shippers, (chiefly fishermen and their families,) are more truly
and fervently devotional. Tradition says, that every evening,
at twilight, the ghost of a dog is seen to pass under the wall
of this churchyard, having begun its walk from the church at
B 3 a village between Cromer and Sheringham. It is
known by the name of Old Shock, and is said to be very like
Charley, the companion of our walk, by those who have seen,
and felt him ; for this four-footed ghost, unlike all human ones,
is not only visible, but tangible. A worthy, sensible game
keeper, now no more, declared, and believed, to the day of his
death, that one evening it ran under his hand, and " though
ready to face any earth-born poacher, four-legged or two-
legged, at dawn or at dusk," he owned he was so frightened,
for he knew what it was he saw glide on before him in the
moonlight ! Its back, as he described it, was rough, hard,
and shaggy.
Old Shock walks sometimes with a head, sometimes without,
but, be that as it may, the villagers, when questioned, assert
that his eyes are " always as big as saucers,"
He is supposed to be a relic of the Danes, because Norfolk
was long their abode so long, that many Danish words are
left in use amongst us, especially on the coast of which I am
writing ; and a similar story of a spectre dog is current in
Denmark. There was one also in the Isle of Man, so long
226 MEMORIALS OF THE
under the Northmen s sway.* This spectre dog of ours is
certainly an animal of taste, to judge by his choice in walks.
The following day (the 24th instant) Mrs. Opie
returned to Norwich, and the next entry in her
Journal is made from her own house :
Returned in safety to my lonely home. What a contrast
to the scene I left ! but I am deeply thankful for three
weeks and two days so happily spent, and for the real and
many comforts to which I return.
Shortly after, she records the illness and death of
one of her early friends, the daughter of Mrs.
Colombine, (to whom she addressed a letter of friendly
sympathy, in 1803, from which an extract is given in
chapter xiv.) Most tenderly did she watch beside
the bed of the poor sufferer, minister to her wants,
and, at length, close her eyes. A day or two after her
death, she writes :
She begged me not to leave her but how could I ? I
resolved to sit up with her. I went home to my tea, and
then came back. She had slept in my absence ; when she
woke, and saw me, she was so glad ; and when I assured her
I would not leave her, she kept saying, trying to smile, (a
ghastly smile indeed,) " God bless you! bless you! bless you!"
After a night of great conflict on her part, and deep feeling
on mine, she breathed her last, at five minutes past five ; and
I had the melancholy office of closing her eyes. How
thankful was I, as I stood by her breathless clay, to know,
that she, who had shed so many tears, was gone where " tears
are wiped from all eyes," and to picture the reunion of mother
and daughter, where separation comes not ! She survived her
* See the Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 227
mother only a fortnight oh ! what a mercy ; blessed be He
who willed it so to be !
Next day I rose at one, and visited the poor, bereaved
aunt ; staid some hours, became ill, oppressed, and nervous,
and called on Dr. Ash, who prescribed for me. Met H. G.,
who went home with me, and staid two or three hours ; and
when he left me, I had not a complaint in the world ! Went
to bed so thankful, even for the trials of the night and day.
(4th day. ) Went in the mourning coach, with Dr. Button and
J. Beecroft, to the house. How the French Church, where
the dear sufferer was laid, on her mother s coffin, called back
the days of my childhood, and French School ! Dr. S. read
the service well. Went to Magdalen, committee long and
interesting ; called at my uncle s. (6th.) Catherine Gr. to
dinner ; did so enjoy her company. Went to bed very happy.
(7th.) My uncle s birthday, (seventy-six ;) dined with him ; a
pleasant day; my uncle in spirits. To bed thankful and
contented.
Here the Journal abruptly breaks off.
In May of this year, Mrs. Opie was, as usual, in
London, and writing to her friends at Northrepps
Cottage, she says :
5th mo., llth, 1829.
MY YEEY DEAR FRIENDS,
I would write " histories * if I could, but for
even short tales I have no time ; and I am always led to feel
myself very " infirm of purpose," when I come to London. I
meant to have written down what I composed on the road,
and to send it to dear Northrepps Cottage, but I have not
had any adequate leisure. I was ill all the way hither, with
a feverish cold, and kept the house next day ; but was well
enough, by dinner, to enjoy our admirable guest, Baptist Noel,
and he was our only one ; and we did indeed enjoy him ; one
word is sufficient to express him, and includes his mind, heart,
manners, conversation, and character Delightful !
Q 2
228 MEMORIALS OF THE
In the evening came the T. Erskines. Without any
affectation, B. N. leads the conversation to religious subjects,
and happy the young, as well as the old, who can frequently
associate with such a man ! It was a rich day. The next
morning we drove to Christie s ; he was very kind ; and on
the 23rd my pictures, which now I rather pine after, are to
be exhibited, and sold, with some by Ward and Gainsborough.
He advises immediate sale, as times grow worse and worse.
Henrietta Erskine having given me a reserved ticket for
the Jews Meeting, I then drove to the Freemasons Hall,
which I found nearly full. As they passed, I had an oppor
tunity of shaking hands with F. Cunningham, Wilberforce,
and Simeon. Sir Thos. Baring was in the chair ; and I heard
twelve speakers, and was there from twelve to near half-past
five ! but I was so deeply interested that I was not tired.
There was much eloquence, and, what was better, a Christian
spirit, and Christian humility, I think, pervading all, and
manifested very visibly. You will read the whole proceedings
in the Record, therefore I will not name the speakers. We
are going now to the British and Foreign School Society
Meeting.
In the month of June following, Mrs. Opie visited
Paris, and spent some months there. An account of
this trip is given in the next chapter.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 229
CHAPTER XVI.
VISIT TO PAKIS; JOURNAL DURING HER STAY THERE; LETTER FROM
THENCE; RETURN TO ENGLAND; LETTER FROM LAFAYETTE; SONNET
"ON SEEING THE TRICOLOR;" SOUTHEY s " COLLOQUIES j" LETTER
FROM MRS. FRY; " NURSING SISTERS."
MRS. OPIE had for some time been projecting a
visit to Paris ; and she now found an opportunity of
indulging that desire for travelling, which, as we
have seen, she entertained before the death of her
father. With mingled emotions she anticipated
revisiting a place she had formerly seen under such
different circumstances, and she thus expressed her
feelings on the occasion :
It was with twofold sensations, of which, at last, pleasure
predominated, that I decided on revisiting Paris. * *
When I last saw it, I was accompanied by my husband, as
well as endeared friends, and my pleasant experiences were
then communicated to my beloved father. Now I am alone
in the world, affording, not receiving, protection ; and in
every way my position in life is changed. Yet, while my
self-consciousness and selfish feelings vent themselves in
silent but heartfelt regrets, I cannot but recollect that
France has undergone changes of far greater importance to
230 MEMORIALS OF THE
itself and the world. The France which I left a Eepublic,
in 1802, has become a Monarchy again, under the dominion
of a Bourbon! and I can hardly help smiling at my own
engrossing egotism, *
During this, and her subsequent Parisian visit,
Mrs. Opie kept a daily journal, (as indeed was her
wont during all her journies,) in which she recorded
events of interest, and carefully noted the attentions
shewn her, of however trifling a character, whether
by friends or strangers. The following extracts from
the journal of this second visit to the French capital,
may interest the reader.
* * * * Went on board the Lord Melville steamboat,
at half past four in the morning of the 10th of the 6th mo.,
accompanied by a young lady whom I promised to see safe
to Paris. My spirits neither high nor low, and I resolved to
keep recollections at bay.
The passage was rough, but I did not suffer from sea
sickness. The next day, after a good night, we started at
nine o clock in the diligence, and had a pleasant journey to
Abbeville ; one of our companions, a pretty Frenchwoman
of twenty-five, surprised me by her ignorance and excessive
curiosity, and interested me by her evident family attachment.
She travelled without a bonnet, (in a very becoming cap,) and
told me she rarely wore one, but worked, and walked, and
went to mass, without. At sight of her brother, who came
to meet her, her fine eyes overflowed with tears.
After a pleasant journey, the traveller reached Paris
on the 12th, and, being welcomed by her friends,
says : " I shall like my sejour with them while I
stay, and am thankful for everything all so much
more than I deserve." Next day, on the Place de
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 231
Greve, she beheld a crowd gathering round the
guillotine ! a man was about to suffer death for
murder.
* * * For a curious traveller it was an opportune
circumstance, and we got out and drew near to examine the
awful instrument ; a gendarme told me " d entrer, et faire
la tour." I found it was the same in form and size as that
tfautrefois. Thence we proceeded to the Jardin des Plantes,
which was delightful ; I saw the elephant bathe, and admired
the splendid giraffe, and one bird, the aigle destructeur,
which alone, it was worth coming to see. (1st day.) Went
to the Champs Elisees, to Meeting at T. S. s situation
charming we met only seven persons, and sat only one
hour. (15th.) Went to the Duchess de Broglie s, and had
an interesting conversation with her. Thence went to the
Hall of the Institute, and was much pleased. (17th inst.)
Went this morning to the Marquis de Lafayette s, found him
at home ; was most kindly received, and presented my letter,
and begged him to read it ; he said he was glad to know me,
and his daughters would call on, and invite me. A delightful
loveable man! a handsome blooming man of seventy-two.
My hero through life! How my dear father would have
rejoiced in my knowing him. Came home pleased, and
bought some confitures. (18th.) Had tickets for the
Chamber of Deputies, and was admitted to the Tribune des
Dames at twelve. At two the chamber assembled noise, of
the cote, droit especially, astonishing. Did not understand
much, but enjoyed what I did, and was excessively interested.
Saw Benjamin Constant, and heard and understood him.
Saw Berard. House up at six. (20th, Saturday.) Lafayette
sent me tickets for the Chamber again, with an English note
sealed with the head of Washington : precious ! At nine
went to Baron Cuvier s, and stayed till half past eleven
amused and flattered. (1st day.) To the Champs Elisees ;
a short, but most interesting, sitting. It was the fete Dieu,
and we should all have liked to have seen the procession, but
232 MEMORIALS OF THE
could not, without giving up meeting. (2nd day, 22nd.)
Went to see the glass manufactory in the Faubourg
St. Antoine, and on my way saw le Cafe Turque, full
of glasses and bouquets ; it must be very pretty lighted up.
At the manufactory, the largest glass 130 inches (French)
long, and 63 in width. Being near Vincennes, went thither
in a cabriolet de remise, and ascended 250 steps to the tower
of the dungeon. Was repaid by the view from the top and
the fine fresh air, but a tempest came on so violently we
could only get to the chapel, and not to the ditch, where the
poor d Enghien was shot. Part of his monument is very
fine, and the painted window very much so, the designs are
from Raphael. All the way home it rained in our faces ; I
held mon petit chapeau on my lap, and put my shawl round
my head, and the hat escaped unhurt.*
On the 23rd. The evening was spent at Lafayette s,
where she found many Americans, to whom she was
presented, and Mr. Benjamin Constant, who addressed
her " politely but coldly." With her distinguished
host and his family she was " delighted," and two
days after, says, " I went at half past ten to Gen.
Lafayette s to sit with him, while he sat for his
picture to Davis ; Lady Morgan was also there, and
I enjoyed my visit. Returning home I went to the
Luxembourg gardens, the gardens of Roses ! and
* She mentioned afterwards, that the driver was much amused at
seeing her do this, and at last said, " really, madame, you must be
very fond of your petit chapeau, to give yourself so much trouble
about it." To which I replied, " oui, faime leaucoup mon petit
chapeau Jest mon petit Buonaparte" Oh ! what a look the man
gave me ! his fine dark eyes were almost fearfully bright, as, with a
smile of delight, he cried, " vous etes une brave femme, d* avoir ose me
rtpondre de la sorte, etje vous jure, madame, queje vous menerais meme
en Angleterre!"
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 233
afterwards to La Morgue, whence I hastily withdrew,
feeling that I could not bear it."
The Journal continues :
(7th day, 27th.) To the General s, and staid till past
twelve, then to the Tuilleries palace, which much delighted
me with its grandeur and beauty. My evening was spent at
Madame la Baronne Cuvier s soiree, where I met David, and
returned home by twelve, much pleased. (2nd day, 30th.)
David came to me and I sat for my medal ; afterwards spent
the day in visiting various places.
The next few days record sittings to David for her
medal, and visits to the General s, to be present while
his portrait was proceeding.
(5th day, 2nd of mo.) Breakfasted at the Hotel des Isles
Britanniques, and went with my friends to le Palais * * *
saw fine pictures, and fine furniture and rooms ; and the bed
where Napoleon slept, the last night he passed in Paris, and
the table on which he signed his second abdication ! The
same day went to the Hospital for incurables, and was
delighted with Soeur Angelique, sceur de la Charife; I must
go again ; it is a most perfect Institution. Went afterwards
to the Maison de Sante, in the K-ue du Quartier St. Denis ;
and dined at the Cafe de Paris, on the Boulevards ; dinner
excellent, and the room so pretty. (7th day, 4th.) Went to
Pere la Chaise, and being forced by rain into the chapel, saw
a young woman give money to have a candle lighted ; then
she took a chair, and knelt on it and prayed ; no doubt it was
for the soul of one lost and loved ! We were twenty-two in
company, of all ranks and conditions, but she alone proved
herself devout ; soon after, as we were walking along, we saw
a young lady in deep mourning, beside a newly-made grave,
sobbing violently and wringing her hands, while a gentleman
with her begged her to come away and be consoled. I
234 MEMORIALS OF THE
wished to stop and ask him what friend they had lost, but
dared not ; if I had been alone, I think I should. The view
of Paris from this interesting spot is delightful ; I felt much
interested in this singular scene, and shed many tears at
sight of one inscription, in particular. I envied the power of
planting flowers on the graves of those we love. We could
not find poor George Blackshaw s grave, nor his son s. I
must come again.
Short entries for several days succeed, recording
the events of each day ; the completion of her profile
medal, by David ; her visits to La B. Cuvier ; to San
Lazare and la Salpetriere ; to the General Lafayette s ;
to Sevres and St. Cloud, &c.
(llth, 1st day.) After meeting, David took me to 1 Abbe
Gregoire s and I was delighted with my visit, and next day
he accompanied me to Pere la Chaise ; we had a most inter
esting walk of four hours, but could not find G. B. s tomb.
In the evening I received a letter from De Bardelin, dated
Paris, and, glad surprise ! he came and took tea with us.
the next evening went to Gen. Lafayette s for the last time,
and he invited me to go to La Grange.
On the 17th, she went with a party of friends to
Montmorency, and was charmed with the country, but
" saw Rousseau s tomb and the Hermitage unmoved /"
Each day bears a record of some visit or excursion,
with the many friends who gathered around her.
On one of these occasions, at Bishop Luscombe s she
"met a lady whom she had known in 1806;" and
beheld with much pleasure, a picture by her husband,
which her friend David " thought very good, taking
it for a Spanish picture ; it is reckoned like Murillo."
A visit to the atelier of the sculptor also draws forth
her warm encomiums ; she says, " delighted with his
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 235
General Toy ; the statue admirable, the bas-reliefs
excellent ; also I liked Gregoire s bust much." Shortly
after she went to see a somnambule, and was " put
en rapport avec elle she very complimentary I not
satisfied ; am to see another ; iny companion was in
ecstacies about nothing." Her journal continues
(22nd.) Went to 1 Hotel Dieu, was satisfied ; went next to
Notre Dame, and saw, in the sacristy, the things used at the
coronation of Napoleon ; also, in boxes, the relics le porte
Dieu, used at Napoleon s coronation; and the glory of rare
diamonds ; also the robes of Napoleon and Josephine, and the
robes brodees en Jleurs, which he had made for the pope ; and
the robes of Charles X, lieu et argent. Went next to the
Palais de Justice, and heard pleading and judgment given in
the Cour Royale and the Cour de Cassation. Went after
wards to the flower market delicious ! and so home, well
satisfied with my morning.
The following letter is selected from amongst
several written at the time :
Eue Cadet, 11, F. S, Montmartre.
Ce 24me. , du 7me mois, 1829.
At length my too long neglected friend, I sit
down to write to thee ; a duty and a pleasure, which I have
found it easier to contemplate in prospect, than to fulfil and
procure but treve ^excuses. Here I have been six weeks !
I came for four, but how could I quit this beau Paris et les
amiables Parisians, que fai trouves id 9 Dear friend, were I
not, as I hope, too old to have my head turned, I think it
would have been turned here, by all the attentions and flat
teries I have received ; but it was humbling, in some measure,
to find that I was courted for my past, not my recent writings.
The latter are not in the French style ; I fear I must own
that their moral standard is not as high as ours ; but there
are here, I fully believe, men, and women too, holy enough
to save the city. My experiences have been various, and
236 MEMORIALS OF THE
among all classes ; from the sceptic who owns to me, that when
he dies, he expects to go into entire nothingness ; to the exem
plary and pious catholic, who, believing in his own salvation,
is kindly and fervently anxious for mine ; but I wish my two
Generals one known to thee personally, the other by repu
tation, to be the chief heroes of this letter. After a month s
residence here, I wrote to Bardelin, at St. Germain s, where
I fancied he was, to tell him I was coming thither, and hoped
to see him. He answered me that evening, from Paris, and
came to see me soon after; and I find him out of the service,
a Marechal-de-camp ; General chevalier decore I How glad
it made me I
The other general is Lafayette ; the hero of my childhood,
the idol of my youth I And I have found him far beyond my
idea of him, high raised as it was ! He is a handsome man of
seventy-two, humble, simple, and blushing like a girl, at his
own praises, with manners the most perfect possible ; and his
bonhommie is so striking, that one almost forgets his greatness
and his fame. I brought a letter to him from my friend,
Dr. H., which I delivered in person I shall never forget his
reception I
His daughters called on me the next day, and I had a note
from him, inviting me to his soiree. [The letter goes on to
describe what is related in the journal.] * * * The great
delight was my friend M. S. s having sent over Davis to
paint Lafayette, and Davis wishing me to be present to
animate the General ! Accordingly I was there five morn
ings, having his conversation to myself. I was also at his
house in the evening, five times.
I have another General to tell about, one of the first men
in France as to family ; the Marquis de Clermont Tonnerre,
(who as a boy was known to thee ;) he gave me a dinner the
other day, the most beautiful little French dinner I ever saw.
Dusgate is a complete savant, shut up, studying mathematics,
and, for health s sake, living on bread and water I ! He is,
however, very clever and agreeable. The Marquis and I
were soon acquainted, and agreed to go together to see
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 237
sights; we were together some hours, during which I was
delighted and edified by his deep piety, (he is a Ion Catholique^)
and he gratified me by his desire, that I who am " si bonne,
et si devouee aux bonnes ceuvres" (according to him,) should be
" entierement Catholique"
My next hero is no General, but a sculpteur liberal, the
first man of his class here ; who, before I saw him, was desirous
of making a medal of me, for having made him cry his eyes out
by my works. Malgre moi, he has made me en medaille, me
and my petit bonnet, which the artists here say looks like
a Phrygian helmet, and has un air classique ; but, though
young and flattered, the thing is like, and David satisfied.*
To this gentleman I owe some of the most interesting hours
I have passed here ; with a mind in some respects analogous
to my own, he has my husband s poetical views of his art. He
has given me much of his precious time ; we spent some
hours at Pere la Chaise, vainly seeking my poor friend s
grave. Pere la Chaise is a lovely place. This morning I
have been to see an Infant School ; very good. Yesterday I
saw the lady who is one of the chief directors ; she excels all
the women I have yet seen here, the Duchess de Broglie
excepted. I believe I love her already ! In about ten days
I expect to set off for England, by Dieppe. I shall leave
Paris with regret, and deep gratitude. We have a nice quiet
meeting in the Champs Elisees on the first day morning. * *
Now for noble monuments, (principally by my companion,)
fine trees, a blue sky, and affecting recollections.
With love, I am thy affectionate friend,
A. OPIE.
The same day (the 24th) Mrs. Opie visited the
Bibliotheque du Roi, and was much amused, " but too
late to see the manuscripts :" the succeeding four days
were spent in visiting, and on the 28th she writes :
* The engraving which forms the Frontispiece to this volume is
taken from this medal.
238 MEMORIALS OF THE
Up at five, and off to Fontainebleau, enjoying the day
excessively ; the palace almost painfully interesting, from
association; splendid and beautiful; and the forest unique and
delightful. It was night before we left it; on the 29th up
again at five, and by six off, along the forest ride, to where
we must take boat; too soon for it, and had to walk two
hours, so climbed a rock in the forest, and went to see a
curious water-mill; took boat at nine, nearly constant rain,
but not disagreeable ; the voyage seven long hours ; the
coffee excellent and eggs ditto, and I got a good breakfast, and
am writing on board the boat, to keep myself awake ; have
read nearly three books of De Lisle s poem on Imagination,
some parts of it are excellent. Reached Paris before four,
the rain having ceased.
A succession of daily visits and friendly greetings
followed, during the first week in August, (on the 7th
she " heard the ministry was changed, and nothing
talked of but this change,") and on the 13th and
14th saw the prizes distributed at the Sourds Muets,
("excessively interested") and went to a seance, at the
Ecole de Commerce et d Industrie, where she heard
LaFitte, Charles Dupin, &c., and was much delighted.
She continues :
(llth.) Went to Notre Dame to see the King and Royal
Family, and saw them also walk in the street. (25th.) I went to
the Institute and heard two prix de vertu adjudged, and saw
the prize given for the best poem on the art of printing ; the
prize poem was read by Le Mercier after the young man
had received the prize, and Baron Cuvier delivered a most
excellent discourse. My pleasure was increased by seeing
Lally Tollendal opposite me, whom I recognised and was
glad to see so young and well looking, still. Next day (26th.)
Went with Victor Sauce to the Palais de Justice, and heard
Dupin plead for Berton, and admirably, but he was con
demned ! In the evening at Gerard s, the sentence was much
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 239
talked of and condemned. On 1st day to Meeting, a solemn
and favoured one, to me at least. 2nd day evening to the
Missionary Meeting.
Early in September she mentions the arrival of her
friend Mrs. Austin, and her cousin, Mr. Briggs, with
many others, in company with whom she paid visits
and made excursions, each day giving a note of where
and with whom, in her journal. On the 21st she paid
her promised visit to La Grange, of which she
writes :
Started par la diligence, with a Very agreeable companion,
T. B., with whom on my return I am to visit the ateliers of
artists. At Rosoy, found the General s cabriolet waiting ;
thought the approach to La Grange beautiful; an ancient
castle, lawn a VAnglaise. The General as usual, fresh, bene
volent looking, and admirable, in all ways. His uncle, the
celebrated Segur, there ; his daughters, son-in-law, and grand
children all to my mind; a most happy day. (22nd.) Rose
early with much thankfulness for unmerited mercies. (23rd.)
At ten we assembled in the salon ; at half- past the General
led me down to breakfast, a breakfast of hot meat and pottage ?
wines and fruit, ending with coffee and dry toast. After
breakfast the weather cleared, and the General shewed us,
and many newly-arrived guests, his farm, all but the Norfolk
and other cows ; they were out. Enjoyed our walk, afterwards
went to see le jar din potager. At dinner, led, and placed as
usual ; the evening most interesting ! The General gave us
an account of some of the early events of the revolution, the
other gentlemen assisting. The evening ended only too soon,
but 1 read in my own room the Memoirs of Segur, and with
a curious feeling lay down, knowing I should see him and
Lafayette next day ! !
(5th day, 25th.) Much pleased with Madame de L. s
schools, and walked in the park till the General admitted us
into his library. What a library, full of interest ! The swords
240 MEMORIALS OP THE
he has, especially. The room round, and commanding his
farm, as well as some beautiful willows, and points of view of
home scenery. The dinner interesting, the evening not so
much so : and it was my last !
Mrs. Opie s stay in Paris was extended some weeks
longer, during which she appears to have enjoyed,
with great satisfaction, the opportunities for inter
course with her friends, and for seeing objects of
interest around her. She mentions sitting to an artist,
for Galignani, and also to her cousin, H. P. Briggs.
On the 20th of October, " the saddest of anniversaries"
(that of her father s death,) she left Paris, and on the
23rd went on board the King George, for England,
and after a sixteen hours passage, arrived, " thankful
for safe return," in her native country.
Shortly after her return, she received the following
letter from General Lafayette :
La Grange, November 5th, 1829.
Your kind letter, f 17th of the 10th month,)
dear and respected friend, for want of being directly sent to
la Grange, has remained some days unreceived, and three
days more unanswered, on account of an invitation to Provins,
the mention of which you may have seen in the Courier
Franqaise, or Journal de Paris, November 3rd; so that I
remain acquitted for the delay, and am anxious to acquit my
self with a due tribute of gratitude, for these last testimonies
of your indulging kindness. You don t say whether the
distinguished artist, your friend, remains in town. I hope
I shall have the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with him-
Remember me very kindly to your young cousin. The whole
family at la Grange join in friendly compliments and good
wishes to him and to you, dear Madam, and I am most
cordially, Your obliged friend,
LAFAYETTE.
LIFE QF AMELIA OPIE. 241
P.S. With much pleasure I have read the appeal in behalf
of the Greeks. The 200 sets of plates delivered to Doctor
Temple, cannot be in better hands. The Rev. Jonas King
is my particular friend. I much wish the religious zeal in
behalf of Greece may have some influence on the policy of
your government ; when the Christian powers have it in their
power, and it has become their duty, as well as their true
interest, to insure, upon a large and liberal scale, the inde
pendence, liberty, and consequence, of that so very interesting
nation.
We add here some verses written by Mrs, Opie
during this visit ; inscribed,
ON SEEING THE TRICOLOR AGAIN.
At sight of thee, ! Tricolor,
I seem to feel youth s hours return;
The lov d, the lost, those hours restore,
Again for freedom s cause 1 burn!
When last those blended tints I saw,
Napoleon s laurell d brow they grac d,
Ere, in despite of freedom s law,
The crown that simple badge displaced.
But now a different scene is nigh,
Lo ! freedom s sons once more are met !
See, patriots lift those colours high ;
Who leads them on ? their Lafayette !
See him, from dangers, dungeons, death,
Escap d through heaven s almighty hand,
To win again the civic wreath,
And sav d, to save his native land !
Hail ! freedom s dearest, purest son,
What honours now adorn thy brow ;
Thou hast the hardest conquest won.
The victor o er thyself art thou !
Thy country s good thy only aim,
Thou couldst thy life s loved dream resign ;
Then take the meed thy virtues claim,
And be the world s loud plaudit thine /
E
242 MEMORIALS OP THE
Shortly before Mrs. Opie left England, she had
written to Mr. Southey, who answered her in a letter
which was published in his " Memoirs." In this
letter he mentioned that he had sent her a copy of
his " Colloquies," in which he had referred to her in
these terms:
" I have another woman in my mind s eye ; one who has
been the liveliest of the lively, the gayest of the gay ; ad
mired for her talents by those who knew her only in her
writings, and esteemed for her worth by those who were
acquainted with her in the relations of private life ; one who,
having grown up in the laxest sect of semi-christians, felt
the necessity of vital religion, while attending upon her father
with dutiful affection, during the long and painful infirmities
of his old age ; and who has now joined a sect, distinguished
from all others by its formalities and enthusiasm, because it
was among its members that she first found the lively faith
for which her soul thirsted. She has assumed the garb and
even the shibboleth of the sect, not losing, in the change, her
warmth of heart and cheerfulness of spirit, nor gaming by it
any increase of sincerity and frankness ; for with these, nature
had endued her, and society, even that of the great, had not
corrupted them. The resolution, the activity, the genius,
the benevolence, which are required for such a work, are to
be found in her ; and were she present in person, as she is in
imagination, I would say to her * * Thou art the woman!"*
"The work" in which Mr. Southey was anxious
to engage the sympathies and aid of Mrs. Fry and
Mrs. Opie, was the establishment of Societies for
* Second volume of Southey s " Colloquies/ at the 322nd page.
On reading this eloquent eulogium, Mrs. Opie observed, " It so
overpowered me, that I could not read it through at first, and wept
because the eye it would most have pleased, would not see it."
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 243
reforming the internal management of Hospitals and
Infirmaries ; so as " to do for the hospitals what Mrs.
Fry had already done for the prisons."
On her return to England, Mrs. Opie wrote to
Mrs. Fry, communicating Mr. Southey s letter; she
replied :
Upton, 12th, 12th mo., 1829.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I only yesterday heard from Catherine thy
wish to have R. Southey s letter returned. I now therefore
send it thee at once ; being in London I could not do it
yesterday.
Pray, dear friend, let me have a copy of it, because I think
that there is much truth in its contents. I also wish thee
seriously to weigh the subject, and if thou feelest, as well as
seest, thy road to open in it, I shall be glad ; because I have
seen the thing wanted to be done, ever since the days of my
youth. Is not London the place to begin such a work or
is the country ? I think what has been accomplished in
Liverpool is very important. Let me have thy sentiments
upon all the points in question, and believe me,
Thy very affectionate friend,
E. FRY.
From a passage in Mrs. Fry s Life (vol. 2, p. 383)
we find that, some years subsequently, her thoughts
reverted to the subject ; and the results are thus
recorded.
" Mrs. Fry s habitual acquaintance with the chamber of
sickness, and with scenes of suffering and death, had taught
her the necessity that exists for a class of women to attend
upon such, altogether different and superior to the hireling
nurses that are generally to be obtained. Her communica
tions with Mr. Fliedner, and all she learned from him
R 2
244 MEMORIALS OF THE
personally, of his establishment at Kaiser swerth, stimulated
her desire to attempt something of the kind in England.
Her own occupations being too urgent and numerous to allow
of much personal attention, the plan was undertaken, and on
a small scale carried into effect, by her sister, Mrs. S.
Gurney, with the assistance of her daughters and some other
ladies."
Some misconception having arisen as to this insti
tution, it was thought desirable to change the original
designation of " Protestant Sisters of Charity," for that
of " Nursing Sisters."
( The exertions of this little society (continues the Memoir)
have been hitherto greatly circumscribed, and it may be
looked upon more as an experiment, than as an object
attained. The help of the " nursing sisters " has been sought
and greatly valued by persons of all classes, from royalty to
the poorest and most destitute."
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 245
CHAPTER XVII.
REVOLUTION OF " THE THREE DAYS;" MRS. OPIE GOES TO PARIS
AGAIN; HER JOURNAL THERE.
THE fearful events which transpired at Paris, in
the summer of the year 1830. deeply and painfully
interested Mrs. Opie. She wrote to her friends at
Northrepps in the month of August, and an extract
from her letter will best shew her feelings under the
excitement of the time.
Norwich, 8th mp., 2nd, 1830.
Dr. Ash shall not go to Northrepps without a
letter. I think you will like to know how I am, under
existing circumstances. I went to Wroxham on the election
day, and should have enjoyed, even more than usual, the
exquisite, and even increased stillness of that place, (as it
appeared to me,) had not my calm been interrupted by the
inquietude of mind, induced by the alarming news from Paris.
The Chamber of Deputies dissolved for ever, and the liberty
of the press abolished ! ! We saw the results of this news
in the fearful perspective ; and yesterday came the affecting
tidings, that the National Guard had re-organized themselves;
that Lafayette was at their head; that the Chamber had
assembled, and voted their sitting perpetual, and had declared
the throne vacant; that the king, ministers, court, and
ambassadors, had left Paris, and were at Vincennes, or
Brussels ; that cannon was planted against the city ; that it
246 MEMORIALS OF THE
had fired, and killed 5000 persons, and the beautiful Rue de
Rivoli was running with blood ; and that they are to be
starved into submission.
I humbly hope I shall be enabled to pray for my friends
there, which is all I can do. "Whom the Gods mean to
destroy they first make mad," says some Latin proverb, and
this seems illustrated now.
You will readily believe how anxious, interested, and
excited 1 feel. I was, and am, writing on the scenes of the
Revolution in 1802, little dreaming that another was so near,
in which some I love and reverence must be actors J ***
I am reading " Lafayette en Amerique ! " Such a book !
it fills me with untellable wonder and admiration of him, that
such worship should not have turned his head, and that he is
still simple and seemingly humble-minded ; and secondly,
because his youth in America was evidently marked, not only
by courage and talent, but by kind, generous actions, pri
vately performed ; and because it was his nature to do them.
He gave them his money, I find by another work, as well as
his time and exertions ; therefore the gift of money and land
to him, in his (comparative) poverty, was only a debt, repaid
with interest. And how they honoured him ! He was passed
on from one State to another, almost through an unbroken
chain of triumphal arches! But he always, amidst all his
career, kept the Sabbath day holy. And this man, as it
were miraculously preserved through two revolutions, and
in chains, and in a dungeon, is now again the leading mind
in another conflict, and lifting, I trust, not only an armed,
but a restraining hand in a third revolution ! May He who
alone can save and direct, watch over and direct him ! How
many other now familiar faces, and I may add, dear also, do
I see engaged in this awful struggle, and on different sides !
Well, I must turn away from it as much as I can I Farewell
my dear friends.
Unable, probably, to keep the prudential resolve,
with which she concludes this letter, Mrs. Opie, full
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 247
of irrepressible anxiety to be on the scene of action,
very shortly came to the resolution to repair to Paris.
She seems to have allowed very few of her friends to
know of her determination, perhaps anticipating their
remonstrances and objections. Her anxiety, however,
was so great as to affect her health and spirits ; and
after a few weeks irresolution, her determination was
made, and she was on her way to Paris. Her stay
proved, in the event, longer than she had perhaps
intended or anticipated. During the former part of
the time she kept a Journal, from which selections
are given in the following pages : -
Hotel de Breteuil, Eue de Rivoli,
5th of llth mo.
I arrived at this charming residence on fourth
day last, and the trees had nearly lost their leaves, and the
gardens their flowers. I gazed on the prospect around me
with still increasing delight. On the side near me was the
palace of the Tuilleries, with the tricolor flag hanging on its
centre dome ; and, to the right, the fine dome of the Invalides.
But oh ! the people the busy people of all ranks probably,
and of various costumes, passing to and fro, and soldiers,
omnibuses, cabriolets, citadines, carts, horsemen, hurrying
along the Rue de Rivoli, while foot passengers were crossing
the gardens, or loungers were sitting on its benches, to enjoy
the beauty of this May-November ! But what was become
of the Revolution? Paris seemed as bright and peaceful
as I had left it thirteen months ago ! And the towns too,
through which we had passed on our road, bore no marks
of change. We did not see the tricolor till we reached a
village on the morning of our second day s journey, (it was
the fete of Le Toussaint,) when I remarked, not only the
tricolor flag, on a pump in the middle of the small place
opposite the inn, but the colours, exhibited with no little
248 MEMORIALS OF THE
grace and coquetry, on a very handsome youth, probably the
beau or coq of the village.
As to the country, it appeared to me even less populous
than ever ; and I almost wondered where there could ever be
found hands enough to cultivate the wide spreading hills and
vales. "Well, but to be sure we shall see some obvious
changes in Paris," my travelling companion and I observed to
each other; but alas! we did not reach Paris till two in the
morning, when even its lowest and fiercest inhabitants might
be expected to be asleep ; and, without any let or hindrance,
we arrived at the Messagerie ; and, at three in the morning,
a commissioner conducted us on foot to the Hotel de Lisle,
Palais Royal, the only one open. " And we are going to the
Palais Royal! the very focus of everything!" observed my
companion (who was a Royalist) bidding me at the same time
remark the tricolor floating behind us on the Palais d Orleans.
I did so, but my attention was soon directed to another
quarter; I saw two men advancing, as we crossed the Place
Royale, who were singing the new national song, by Casimir
de la Vigne, called the "Parisienne;" and just as they drew
near, they sung the most interesting line in the whole song 3
to me.
" Pour briser leurs masses profondes,
Qui conduit nos drapeaux sanglants ?
C est la liberte des deux mondes,
C est Lafayette, en cheveux blancs!"
What a thrill of emotions those words excited in me ! how
many recollections of former days and former friends those
few words recalled ! recollections of those dear ones, who had
first taught me to love the name, and admire the character,
of Lafayette; and who would have enjoyed, like me, the
brightness of that setting sun, which they had hailed at its
dawning ! And how long was the course of time which
those little words marked out ! " Lafayette en cheveux
blancs!" And what a number of years did I, unconsciously
to my companion, retrace in a moment! But why, as I
thought on the man of two worlds, and recollected what and
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 249
where he now was ; why was my pleasure overclouded with
sadness ? because, though still in the splendour of his fame,
that of his days was past ; and though still Lafayette, it was
Lafayette " en cheveux blancs." I cannot describe the
feelings with which I have always read those words ; but
now that I heard them, I felt them still more ; and then, by
a very natural process, I began to imagine the feelings of the
General himself, when he hears them: but he, I dare say,
hears them with less emotion than I do his well poised
mind, satisfied with being at what he believes to be the post
of duty, looks back on the past with thankfulness, and to the
future with hope.
But how I have wandered from the Hotel de Breteuil !
As I stood on the balcony, gazing with admiring eyes, my
obliging landlady told me that many ladies, English and
others, having first closed the croisees, had stood there to see
the battle of the three days. As the balcony is au troisieme,
they could do so no doubt without danger, except from the
mitraille ; still I did not envy them their post, and earnestly
desired, in my time, no such awful scenes might pass beneath
the windows.
" Well," (said I to myself when I was left alone,) " here I
am, actually at Paris ! and alone at Paris : few of my friends
in England knew I was coming, and none in France know
that I am here ! A new and strange position ; but the
incognito is not without its charms!" And, though ex
cessively fatigued, for two nights, I felt an extraordinary
elevation of spirit, as well as a sense of deep thankfulness ;
not only because I was in the most interesting of all cities,
at the present moment, but because I was capable of feeling
enjoyment in being alone, and alone in a strange land, alone
in Paris I But I was conscious that my trust was placed in
Him, whose protecting eye is everywhere ; and though my
thoughts might recur affectionately and frequently to the
dear relatives and friends whom I had quitted, the uneasiness
of mind, and indisposition of body, which had attended my
irresolution whether to stay at home, or depart, had entirely
vanished ; and the future seemed arrayed in smiles.
250 MEMORIALS OF THE
Having dined early, I sallied forth to the Boulevards, just
as the sun was beginning to sink behind the trees of the
gardens ; and, though I was walking towards the east, when
I reached that pleasant spot, the western rays were so
beautifully reflected on the upper part of the white buildings
before me, that, for a little while, I was unconscious of the
loss of the trees on the Boulevards ; but, suddenly recollecting
myself, I stopped to look round in painful astonishment, till I
remembered it was for la patrie, and to save lives; then
I could regret no longer ! I was on my way to M. s to
subscribe to his library ; and on my expressing to his wife
my regret at missing the fine trees, I found that her
patriotism was strong enough to console her ; and I believe
that I shall not pay my court well, to the residents on the
Boulevards, by expressing any regret for the sacrifice which
was required for the cause of liberty and the country. I
next bent my steps to the gardens of the Tuilleries, in hopes
to overtake the setting sun. The seats were many of them
still occupied by well dressed men and women, three of whom
I observed reading by the red and sinking light. I do not
remember to have seen such a sight in my own country ;
and I should have stopped and lingered to observe the group,
had I not been impatient to renew my acquaintance with the
statues on the Pont Louis quinze ; but I arrived too late to
distinguish their countenances, though the grand outlines
were clearly to be seen. I was disappointed also to observe,
that thirteen months of exposure to the air, had deprived
them of that striking whiteness, in complete contrast to the
dingy hue of the surrounding stone, which had formerly given
them in my eyes (at the hour of twilight) the appearance of
unearthly beings the ghosts of the departed great, standing
there to watch over the destinies of that country for which
they have laboured both in arts and arms !
I looked on the Conde of my friend David with added
pleasure, from having recently heard its merits so eloquently
described by Lady Morgan ; and lingered long on the bridge,
watching the last beams of the setting sun, till I saw I was
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 251
alone, and remembered I had some way to walk. I found
the gardens nearly deserted on my return, except by a few-
soldiers on duty ; and therefore hastened to my new home,
refreshed by my walk, pleased with my new position, and
saying to myself, " How difficult should I find it, to make some
of my friends in England believe that I could be walking
alone in Paris, at twilight, in perfect peace and security."
The next day, after Jif teen hours repose, I awoke refreshed,
(as I well might,) and resolved that I would still keep my
arrival in Paris unknown to my friends.
I proceeded to walk out, accompanied by Manuel, a valet-
de-place de T hotel. My first visit was to the Louvre, not to
see the pictures, but to inquire concerning le Suisse, or porter,
who was so civil and attentive to me last year. I had thought
it only too likely that he had been amongst the killed, when
the Louvre was assailed ; and could hardly speak, from strong
emotion, when I saw him alive and well, and looking as if
nothing had happened ! I expressed, as calmly as I was able*
my fears for his life, and my joy to see him as I had left
him. He seemed gratified; and thanked me in a manner
very creditable to himself.
I have always observed a civility in the lower orders in
France, as remote from coarseness as from servility, which
did not, I suspect, distinguish them previous to the revolution
of 1789. "If our revolution has done nothing else for us,"
said General Lafayette last year, " it has, at least, done this ;
it has taught men to look their fellow-men in the face, and
feel their own dignity."
I next went to see the ravages which civil war had made,
and which are now nearly repaired ; but my valet pointed
out the mark, yet remaining, of a bullet, fired by one of the
Swiss, from a window of the Louvre, which hit one of the
columns of the Palais des quatre Colonnes, across the water.
We were, at that moment, standing on the nameless, unhonoured
graves of the Swiss who had fallen in the action, and by the
ornamented and hallowed graves of their victims. " Take
your hats off," was the cry, as the latter were approached ;
252 MEMORIALS OF THE
and there stood men of all ages, with their heads uncovered,
(besides rows of women and children,) all gazing, with mourn
ful interest, on the place where lay the ashes of those marts
pour la patrie, on the memorable three days !
My next course was to the Palais Royal, which seemed
as when I last saw it ; its beautiful fountain was still playing,
its shops looked as tempting as ever ; but the Tricolor floated
on the Palace of the King, and the National Guard (a large
detachment) were on duty there. I must confess to looking
on these men with great complacency ; they had so recently
shewn their forbearance in the midst of great provocation;
they really reasoned, and joked, and wheedled the agitators in
the late tumult, into quiet and dispersion. The citizen was
not forgotten in the soldier ; theirs was the victory of good
sense and self government, over the excitement of ignorance
and passion ; and be their country s confidence and gratitude
their well-earned reward !
* * * This morning I have received a note of welcome,
like herself, from Sophie de V. She will not invite me to
the Saturday soiree, at the Jardin des Plantes, (Baron Cuvier s)
which takes place every week, because she says, " vous etes
invitee nee" a compliment prettily expressed.
(7th day, 6th of November.) A bright day ; the statues
in the Tuilleries gardens looking so white, and what remains
of the foliage on the trees so richly tinted ! The right side
of the prospect (that is, the Invalides and other lofty build
ings) is clothed in sunshine ; the palace is in sliade but even
while I write the scene is changing, and all behind the palace
is becoming a sheet of silver ! May this be emblematical of
the future prospects of its present owner, and of all to whom
he belongs I * * * *
The light has now passed entirely away from the cote droit
to the c6te gauche; a little breeze is getting up, and the
gorgeous autumnal leaves are waving in it to and fro.
Then * * * * * but I will not indulge my
fancy a truce to metaphors and types; my object is matter
of fact. I have just read the speeches of our Parliament, in
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 253-
the Journal des Debats. How entirely I agree with Lord
Grey ; but the bare possibility of war with France is insupport
able ! I cannot hate and condemn war more than I do 3 else
this fear would make me. Brougham does not mention such
a possibility, and I think his opinion nearly as good as
Lord Grey s.
I have engaged lodgings for a month, at the Hotel de
Douvres ; my apartment looks on the Rue de la Paix, and I
can also see the Boulevard des Capucins ! an excellent situa
tion, but the rooms so small! Well ! a month is soon gone,
and at the end of it I may be gone too ; who knows ?
I dine at five, and at eight shall go to M. Cuvier s * * *
Though I went early, the room was full enough to make me
feel a wish I had come earlier ; most of the faces were un
known to me. By half-past nine the room was almost full,
of, I believe, persons all distinguished in some way or another.
" Who is that gentleman?" said I, " Oh ! nothing particularly
distinguished, he is only un homme d* esprit" " only un homme
$ esprit!" replied another, what a compliment! when wit is
so scarce. * * * *
Soon, Baron de Humboldt was announced, and I was
looking eagerly round for my old and valued acquaintance,
when M. Cuvier led him to me. I was very glad to see him,
but sorry to hear he was going to England. We had not
met for sixteen years. " You find him then grown grey,
(said la Baronne.) True, but he was embellished, for he was
grown fat, and really is now good looking.
Another pleasure awaited me, in the entrance of my friend
David, who did not know of my arrival ; he was indeed sur
prised, but hurt, (and perhaps with justice,) that I had not let
him know I was come or coming.
David speaks highly of the king, and says, while mounting
guard the other morning, he saw him in his night-cap, walk
ing on the terrace. Poor man ! I dare say he cannot sleep
much !
"Happy low, lie down,
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."
254 MEMORIALS OF THE
David has sent me the bust of Lafayette,* and some other
things to England ! Well ! they will be there, I trust, to
cheer me when I return, (if in mercy permitted to do so,)
and have bidden to Paris a probably eternal adieu !
" By all means go to Lafayette s on Tuesday," (said two or
three gentlemen to me.) Aous verrons, he does not receive
at his own house now, but in his staff house, in the Montblanc.
* * * I certainly much enjoyed la Baronne s party, and
her tea, and her cakes. I came home a little past midnight.
(1st day, 7th.) A night of wind ! a day of rain ! went to
the Champs Elisees. Our sitting was still, and, I trust,
favoured.
I expect to be alone all to day what a great privilege it
is, not to feel solitude a trial, but a pleasure ! The first
thing I heard on waking this morning was la Parisienne,
sung, I concluded, by passing soldiers. I checked the internal
reproof rising to my lips, on remembering that the military
band plays, as it returns with the soldiers from church, in my
own city, and in all others ; and most probably these soldiers
were returning from early mass.
(2nd day, 8th.) I cannot but wonder at my own stillness,
and the stillness of all that surrounds me in this busy city ;
the depository at this moment probably of all the springs and
agencies, which, set in motion, must act upon, and decide, the
destinies of Europe ! At this moment (10 o clock) even the
Tuilleries are deserted ; the fountain played yesterday, but
it is quiet to-day ; it only works on a Sabbath day ! The
morning is dark, and the view therefore is not as lovely as
usual ; I can sit by my fireside, instead of going to my balcony ;
so much the better, as I must leave it to-morrow, for a less
lovely prospect. * * * * A sense of my inability to do
the subject justice has alone kept me from committing to
paper what passes in my mind, and is always uppermost in it,
on the subject of politics, but I must relieve my mind by
doing so very soon. The Journal des Debats has, to-day, some
* This Bust she left in her will to T. BrightwcU.
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 255
admirable remarks (in my opinion) on the liberty of the
press. * * *
How impossible it is to know what is usually going on in
any country without being in it, and even then how difficult J
I see and feel, even from my short and limited experience,
more of the real state of Paris at this moment, than I could
have taken in, for months, at home !
I thought while I was observing, the other day, the mark
of the bullet on the column of the Palais des quatres Nations,
and saw the eagerness with which my valet-de-place pointed
it out to me, how wise it would be to efface that striking
provocation to a continuance of popular resentment ; and
rejoiced to see the other traces of civil war disappearing
so fast.
I spoke and felt like a lover of peace, and a hater of all
discord and all war ; and I was painfully convinced how
right I was in my ideas on the subject, by hearing a reputed
Jacobin say, at M. Cuvier s, "how sorry I am to see the
traces of our three days so quickly disappearing! I wish
them to remain for ever, to keep up the spirit of just
indignation in the people!" I heard, sighed, and shuddered,
and then, as well as I could, combated the frightful and
fearful observation. The speaker was one of the National
Guard, and in that Guard how many may there not be
whose desire is for war, rather than peace ; and republicanism,
before royalty, even though the king be a citizen king T
And there are pictures of Napoleon, at all ages of his life,
exhibiting at the Luxembourg, with other pictures, for the
benefit of the widows of the wounded : and Napoleon
brought on the stage at the minor theatres, and applauded,
and extolled, and mourned and wept over, on his bed of death
and in his grave ! If I were a royalist, and an intriguist, I
would bring forward and support this Napoleon drama, which
will, no doubt, end by bringing the young Napoleon before
the minds of the people.
(3rd day, 9th.) I and my baggage arrived, this morning^
at my new apartments, at the Hotel de Douvres. # * #
256 MEMORIALS OF THE
1 have bought an orange tree full of flowers ! how it
embellishes and perfumes my little room ! it is quite an
acquisition ! At eight I shall go to the General s, to catch
him before he is entoure, if possible ; but alas ! he receives at
the Etat Major of the Garde Nationals now ; I shall feel as if
going to court ! ****** Dressed all in my
best, and going off ! the house is only across the Boulevards
my valet seems rather pleased, I think, to be going to
Lafayette s ; he is a most pleasing servant, and it is as cheap,
and certainly better, for me to have a valet than a maid
servant. * * * Well ; the fiacre is here not a word
more till to-morrow.
(4th day, 10th.) * * Though, at one period of my life, I
was accustomed to follow my name into rooms filled with
lords and ladies, and perhaps princes, the confidence which
custom gives was so annihilated in me by long disuse, that,
as I ascended the wide staircase of the splendid hotel of the
Etat Major, I desired that my name might not be announced ;
and I was the more satisfied that it was not, when I found
the general was not arrived, and there were many gentlemen
whom I did not know, assembled in both the apartments, or
(as the French call them) les salons de reception. I know not
when I have felt more ill at ease ; and, feeling myself in a sort
of Court, and waiting the appearance, if not of a king, of a
much greater man, and one whose influence was nearly su
preme over France I sighed, as I looked at my simple Quaker
dress, and considered whether I had any business there ; and
shrunk into a corner, for the first time in my life wishing
the apartment I was in less brilliantly lighted. The ladies
of the family, as the General dined out, did not think it
necessary to come as early as usual, and thus was my painful
solitude, in the midst of a crowd, unusually lengthened ; at
length a small door, at one corner of the room opened, and
the Commander-in-chief appeared; a sort of circle instantly
formed around him, he shook each individual of it by the
hand, and then made his way up to where I stood, and
welcomed me most kindly to Paris ; but he could not tarry
LIFE OP AMELIA OPIE. 257
with me, and was soon again surrounded. A young man,
(name unknown) feeling for the awkwardness of my position,
then entered into conversation with me, and I was contentedly
chatting with him, when Madame G. Lafayette, and the rest
of the General s amiable and lovely family came in, and I
went forward to meet them. Soon after, the room was filled I
the officers of the National Guard, Americans of both sexes,
deputies, ladies, men of letters, artists the distinguished and
the non- distinguished, thronged both the saloons; while the
General passed from room to room, with a smile and a prof-
f erred hand to each in turn. I felt the scene a royal one, as
it were, but there was one marked difference to those at which
I have been present, when I met the late king, (then Prince
of Wales and Regent,) in the London assemblies. The prince
never went to the company, they came to him ; Lafayette,
on the contrary, assumed no state, but was as simple-man
nered as usual, and apparently as unconscious of his increased
consequence, as he was in his assemblies of last year ; and I
believe that there was scarcely an eye present, that did not
follow him with love, nor a heart that did not rejoice in the
seeming perfection of his strength, and the enduring freshness
of that cheek, which a life of temperance and usefulness has
preserved in lasting freshness.
I know not when I have seen so much beauty in the youth
of both sexes, as I saw last night. The young men, particu
larly those in the National Guard, looked so very animated, so
very happy ! and their uniform was so simple, and so becoming
therefore ; but, plain as it generally was, that of the Commander-
in-chief was plainer still. The evening was only too short
and pleasing. I felt elated, but at the same time overwhelmed,
with the kind attentions and flatteries, which, as a woman of
letters, I received ; and again queried whether I ought to be
there ; but I knew I had a duty to fulfil, a sort of commission
to execute, and I resolved not to leave the house till I had
done it.
Accordingly, when it was past midnight, I watched the
General to a seat, and begged an audience of him, putting
258 MEMORIALS OF THE
into his hand a little paper, containing an extract from a letter,
(from a dear friend of mine, a member of our society,) wishing
Lafayette to request the abolition of slavery and the slave-
trade, and also an expression in writing, of my valued friend
Fowell Buxton s wishes, that he would lend all his powerful
aid to this great cause.
He took my paper and assured me he had already talked
with the minister de la marine on the subject ; and that they
were going to declare the trade piracy, as we had done in
England, and as the Americans had done also. Alas ! how
little is this ! and we know how the law is evaded ! I took
my leave, saying, that while liberty was in so many places
the order of the day, and would probably be over all Europe,
I did hope that the cause of Africa would at length triumph
also but when?
I feel, and own, that France has yet much work to do at
home, and interests nearer and dearer to attend to ; but I,
for one, shall be sadly disappointed if she does not ultimately
take up this long-neglected cause, and set a great example to
other nations.
Amongst the crowd I saw, for a moment, Benjamin Con
stant; and saw, with pain, that his truly valuable health has
suffered since last year, but his noble mind seems as vigorous
as ever ! how just are his views, and how eloquent his ex
pressions of them !
Among those also present were the Baron de Humboldt^
General Carbonnel, David the sculptor, Le Brun the dramatic
poet, &c., &c.
Having executed my commission to the General, and also
given him the purse, I had felt such pleasure in netting for
him, I withdrew ; his son attending me to my coach.
(4th day, 10th.) Soon after I had breakfasted, General de B.
called to ask me to go with him to the Luxembourg, to see
the exhibition of pictures there, for the benefit of the wounded.
I gladly complied, and we set off in a fiacre the driver of
which told us the ex-ministers were expected: we did not
believe it, but it gave me a queer sensation.
LIFE OF AMELIA OP1E. 259
How fine the day was ! how bright the sun ! how blue the
sky I It was curious to see a large square place in the
gardens, just before the front of the palace, absolutely filled
with men, women, and children, of all ranks, sitting on
benches and chairs, and on the ground, crowded together*
enjoying the winter sunshine !
The exhibition was a curious one also. The walls of the
long vaulted gallery were covered chiefly with pictures of
Napoleon; Napoleon in situations the most interesting and
recommendatory to the nation; conquering at Aboukir,
Marengo, and Austeiiitz ; saving the life of a whole family at
Cairo ; visiting the sick in the hospital of Jaffa ; in short,
there he was, usually as large as life, surviving in his military
glory, on the animated canvass, and recalling to the Parisians
the splendour of their arms under their victorious leader ; but
the most interesting picture was Napoleon on his death-bed,
or rather, Napoleon dead; the different expressions of the
grief of the bystanders was well expressed. The likeness of
Antommarchi (the only one I could judge of) was striking,
and I daresay so were the others : above it hung the picture
of his tomb, from the hand of Gerard.
Coming home I heard, with pain, the news from England
Our monarch and his queen, so justly popular, to be kept
from going to the city feast, to receive the respect due to
them, by the unpopularity of a minister ! Oh ! shame T * * *
Again alone, but busy, and happy therefore.
(6th day, 12th.) My birthday ! I dare not be guilty of
the egotism of committing to paper my feelings, when I
recollect that on this day, so many years ago, I saw the light;
and that the recollection comes over me that I heard my
dearest father say, on his death-bed, it was the happiest day
he had ever known! To one being, then, it had been an
important day ; but lie is gone, and what is it now become ?
of consequence to no one ; and I shall spend it alone in a
foreign land! unwelcomed and unheeded, save by myself.
But these feelings have been succeeded by wiser and more
s 2
260 MEMORIALS OF THE
beneficial ones! Oh! that the resolutions I have this day
formed, may make my next birthday, if I am permitted to see
one, a day of less condemnatory feelings ! * * * Went
out to the Jardin des Plantes, and found only la Baronne at
home. She made an observation, the result of experience.
Speaking of the new animals which had lately been sent, as
a present, to the menagerie, and mentioning the excessive
tameness of one of the tigers, she said that it would allow
her brother-in-law to play with it, and even would court his
caresses. " I should, notwithstanding, be much afraid of a
coup de patte" said I. " Not with as much reason," she
replied, " as if you were caressing a ruminating animal ; they
are much more dangerous and difficult to tame : besides, when
a wild animal grows tired of you, he lets you know it, by a
certain restlessness and little cry that he makes, therefore you
are on your guard ; but with the others there is no preparation,
and one of the stag species did a very serious injury the other
day."
(7th day, 13th.) At eight I went to to the Jardin des
Plantes, in my muff and tippet, and most winterly gown.
Found Sophie in muslin, and wondering at my Siberian ap
pearance. " Come," said she, speaking in my ear, " I must
name to you all the celebrated persons present." De Humboldt
I knew, but I should vainly tax my memory to name the
rest ; one of them, a handsome delicate-looking young man,
with brown and curling hair, was, I found, Mignet, author of
the " History of the French Revolution," in 2 vols., which I
have bought, and which made the delight of my last winter s
solitude. Another of the circle was Salmady, one of the
Chamber of Deputies, and whose conversation was so eloquent
and animated, that Baron Cuvier said, with his meaning and
intelligent smile, voila lajeune France"
(1st day, 14th.) A wet Sabbath day, but I contrived to
walk to the Champs Elysees ; to bed not satisfied with myself,
but in peace with all the world, I trust.
(6th day, 19th.) Quatrefuges had procured tickets for the
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 261
Chamber of Deputies, and as the business between Ch. de
Lameth and the Procureur du Hoi was to come on this day,
I was very glad to go, and he was to call me.
When ready expecting him, I heard a ring at the door, and
concluded it was he, but was most agreeably surprised to see,
on entering the salon, David and Cooper, he whom I so much
wished to see ! I was very glad, but sorry I was going out
directly. C. had only time to promise me that he would
come and see me whenever I liked, and would introduce me
to his wife. * * * Went to the Chamber, too late for
choice places, but heard and saw well. Much pleased with
the change in the new Chamber, in the situation of the Tribune
des Darnes ; it is now near the Tribune. The debates were very
interesting ; the first was on the liberty of the press. Count
de T. charmed me, both by his delivery and sentiments. The
next debate, relative to the Procureur du Roi, was opened
by a paper, read by Benjamin Constant, with whose opinions
I have usually much unity ; the question seemed to me to
lie in a small compass, but it occasioned long discussion.
The result was that Ch. de L. was right in not obeying the
summons of the Procureur du Roi, and the latter, not meaning
to attack the privileges of the Chamber, was not wrong in
summoning him ! ! ! We got away at a little past five.
(7th day.) Prepared for my company ; the room looked
neat and comfortable. Dr. Bowring and his wife came first,
followed by other friends. In the evening to B. Cuvier s.
(1st day, 20th.) A very comforting Meeting; called on
the Bowrings again ; saw where a bullet on the 29th of July
had broken a pane in the window, just after he had shut it !
Description of the dying and wounded beneath them, most
affecting ! At six some friends came, with whom I had a
sitting after tea ; to me, a favoured one. Read to them after
wards some lines of mine, serious enough to end the evening
satisfactorily ; to bed with a thankful heart for all the favours
of the day.
(2nd day, 22nd.) Had engaged to go to David s atelier,
and to Antommarchi s, to see the mask of Napoleon, when
262 MEMORIALS OF THE
C. Moreau called early to say he had intended to take me
to call on Madame de Genlis, who had promised, if it was fine,
to dine with him, but as it rained, he feared she would not
come ; however, we could call on her. I told him I was
engaged till four, but would then call at his house, to go or
not as he pleased. Went to D. s and was delighted with all
I saw. Goethe, General Foy, and a brilliant, &c., &c.
Went to .A. s au quatrieme very high and fatiguing ; but
remembered the reward of my toil the cast, and the fine
view from his windows, the cast was there, the view gone,
walled up ! poor man ! I would not, could not stay there ;
the cast more than ever recalled to me Napoleon when First
Consul ! There was also there a fine print from the picture
of Napoleon on his death-bed. Antommarchi so like ! I
then drove to Moreau s; the weather was become fine, and
we went to la Comtesse de Genlis ; she received me kindly,
and I, throwing myself on my feelings, and remembering how
much I owed her in the days of my childhood, became enthu
siastically drawn towards her, very soon. She is a really
pretty old woman of eighty-seven, very unaffected, with
nothing of smartness, or affected state or style, about her-
We passed through her bed-room (in which hung a crucifix)
to her salon, where she sat, much muffled up, over her wood
fire ; she had dined at three o clock, not expecting to be able
to go out ; but as the weather was fine, she soon consented to
accompany us, but she laughing said, she must now go without
" sa belle robe. We said in any gown she would be welcome ;
she then put on a very pretty white silk bonnet and a clean
frill, and we set off. I set them down at C. Moreau s, and
came home to dress, but long before the dinner hour, I was
at C. M. s again, and took my post at the side of Madame de
Genlis. A party of distinguished men came to dinner. The
table was spread with a mixture of excellent English as well
as French dishes ; roast beef, boiled turkey, plum puddings,
and mince pies! the latter the very best of the sort ! Madame
M. is an Englishwoman. As usual, St. Simon, and his
preaching and doctrines were discussed, and at my end of the
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 263
table, laughed at. Madame de G. did not talk much at dinner,
but by her attention to what passed, and an occasional
remark, it was evident nothing was lost upon her. After
C. Moreau had given her health, with a most appropriate and
flattering speech, wishing her to live many, many years,
Julien, 1 Encyclopediste, gave the health of the King.
I thought Madame de G. conducted herself on this
occasion with much simple dignity; yet it was a proud
moment for her. She murmured something (and looked at
me) about wishing the health of Madame Opie to be drunk;
but no one heard her but myself, and I was really glad.
When we rose from table, most of the gentlemen accom
panied us. The room now filled with French, English, and
Americans ; many were presented to the venerable Countess,
next to whom I sat, and then to me ; she seemed to enjoy a
scene, to which for some time she had been a stranger. I
found, while I was conversing on some interesting subjects,
she had been observing me. Afterwards she said, " Je vous
aime!" she then added with an archness of countenance
and vivacity of manner, the remnant of her best days,
66 je vous seme" (imitating the bad pronunciation of some
foreigner.) At half-past ten I saw C. Moreau lead Madame
de G. out, and I followed them, and paid her every attention
in my power, for which she was grateful ; when I had wrapt
her up, and put on her bonnet for her, my servant got a
coach, and C. M., another gentleman, and myself, conducted
her home.
264 MEMORIALS OF THE
CHAPTER, XVIII.
LETTER ON THE DISTRIBUTION OF PRIZES AT THE CATHOLIC SCHOOLS ;
CONTINUATION OP JOURNAL; LETTER GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF HER
VISIT TO THE FRENCH COURT.
Mrs. OPIE S next entry in her journal contains an
account of the distribution of prizes at the Catholic
Schools of the Holies aux draps, in the ^me arron-
dissement. The accompanying letter enters into
some particulars of this visit, and gives other details
of interest.
H6tel de Douvres, Rue de la Paix,
lime mo., 30me, 1830.
This shall be a letter-writing day, my dear friend, and I
will at least begin my letter to thee, though it will not go
till sixth day by the ambassador s bag. I was truly sorry not
to see thee before my departure, and equally so not to be
able to write thee.
Hitherto all has prospered with me, and I trust will
continue to do so; we are more quiet here than you seem
to be in my dear native land ; even the ex-ministers seem
forgotten, the people threaten them no longer audibly at
least. It is thought they will soon be transferred to the
Luxembourg, guarded by several troops of the National
Guard ; when there, I should not be surprised if the duty of
watching over them became a very difficult and anxious one ;
but nous verrons; violent excitements, if not kept alive, soon
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 265
wear themselves out. I had such an interesting morning
yesterday at hs Holies aux draps ! It was the distribution of
prizes at the boys and girls schools. I went alone, and had
time to contemplate, with great interest, the young population
before me ! The boys were dressed in a dark brown tunic
a little a la Grecgue, and this added to the illusion, when I
fancied that I beheld a race of young republicans. " Voyez
vous cette jeune population ? " said an old man near me, ff et en
quinze ans Us seront hommes!" It was only a truism, but it
made me think ; and when, after a very good liberal address
from the mayor of the arrondissement, in a tricolor sash and
scarf, those young voices burst into songs of joy and praise,
I felt my eyes fill and my heart beat ! * * * Interrupted
by Quatrefuges du Fesq, Commandant de la Garde Nationale,
du departement du Gard! a protestant gentleman of large
estates. He came to take me to the Chamber of Deputies,
but, as I dine out, and go to Lafayette s, (if a cold will let
me,) I refused to go, and after a visit of an hour and a half
he has just quitted me; he seems a worthy man, and has
lavished on me a great deal of useless eloquence to persuade
me not to go out at all, and threatening to keep guard always
at my door ! he was in his full military dress, and when two
plain Friends came in, to call on me, they looked so surprised
to see such a warlike man by my side ! I said, " que je
presente un homme de paix a un homme de guerre!" I was
glad to find that he belongs to a Bible Society chez lui; and
he is going to present me to its president. He is delighted
at being one of my agents, and I have met two English
clergymen who are equally willing. To go on with my
schools the Comtesse de St. Aulaire, one of the committee,
introduced herself to me, and hoped I approved what I saw
and heard ; I was glad to be able to express my unqualified
approval. When the crowns of flowers and greens, and the
books, were all distributed, a letter from Appert was read,
announcing one prize from the Queen, which was given to
the girl who had already gotten the prize for good conduct,
and she came looking so meek and pretty in her crown of
266 MEMORIALS OF THE
white roses. One child who got a prize, was, the Comtesse
told me, only six years old ! When the Mayor told them, at
the close, that their industry should be rewarded by ten days
of holidays, the little girls clapped, and shouted " Vive le
Boif" "The boys did not do that," said I to a gentleman
near me. " No, but it was in their hearts to do it," he
gravely replied.
I then drove to Bowring s lodgings, where I found the
wife of the Spanish General Mina ; she was on her way to
him ; he has been very ill. In the evening I saw Napoleon s
Count Bertram; which completed the pleasurable sights of
the day. I had the pleasure of presenting to the dear
General two members of our Society, J. B. and his young
nephew, and H. S. ; they were much pleased.
I have dined at de Bardelin s twice, and yesterday I met
him at Mrs. D. s. One of the dishes was a canard aux ohves;
very peculiar, but very good. I live quite to my mind; I
have my dinner from the restaurateur belonging to the hotel,
which is the cheapest way, as firing is very dear, and I should
have a dinner s worth expended in the kitchen ; but I have a
kitchen to myself, and the whole floor, that is, the entresol
to me exclusively; a great comfort. The parties on a seventh
day eve, at the Jardin des Plantes, (Baron Cuvier s,) are
pleasanter than ever; ambassadeurs, savans, sages, deputes,
historiens, &c., &c. The Paris intellectual world runs just
now after a new sect, (a new religion, as they call it,) the
Saint Simoniennes ; the founder is a St. Simon, of the Due de
St. Simon s family. His disciples preach up equality of pro
perty. The thing is, I suspect, more political than anything
else, in its object; but on a first day there is religious
preaching, and the room overflows ; so it does on a week-day
evening, when there are only lectures. The room is very
near me, but I am in vain urged to go. " What a triumph
it would be to them," (said a Frenchman to me at Cuvier s,)
" to get off that little cap, and see it exchanged for their large
black hat and feathers ! " (the costume, with a blue gown, of
the women.) But I, at present, hold out ; because I have, in
LIFE OF AMELIA OPIE. 267
the first place, as I tell them, a scruple against going to any
place of worship from curiosity merely ; and also because I
have vainly tried to read their book of doctrine- I could not
get on with it ; but as they agree with Friends on two
points, I am sometimes tempted to go one evening ; *
nous verrons. * * *
(12th mo., 1st, 1830.) I passed a most pleasant day at
Major M. s ; the only guest beside myself was a General
Ferguson, well known for his sufferings in the cause of
liberal opinions, as he was imprisoned through the jealousy
and suspicion of the Austrian government some years ago,
and liberated with great difficulty, by Canning. I do not
remember his story, but it was before the House. My
friends here have persuaded me to be at home on one
particular day; so on the seventh day morning I receive
from one to five, and I have beaucoup de monde. Farewell,
till to-morrow.
My friend E. M. is arrived. How good are her objects,
how bright her zeal ! She is a Christian indeed, and she
says much good is doing ; even that the St. Simoniennes are
overruled for good. She wishes me to go one evening. She
says one or two pious preachers mean to go and answer
them, (for they put questions on a week-day, and wish for
discussion.)
With love to all, I am, thy very affectionate,
A. OPIE.
The Journal continues :
I went in the evening, at eight o clock, to Lafayette s, and
had a kind reception from the dear and venerated host ; the
rooms were very full, and some Americans were introduced
to me. The officers of artillery and cannoneers, bearing their
plumed caps all the evening, have an odd effect.
(24th of the mo.) Keceived some visitors unexpectedly
this morning ; one of them, in conversation, mentioned a
remark by Prudhomme, the editor of a Jacobin journal, in
former days, which struck me ; " Les grands sont hauts,
268 MEMORIALS OF THE
parceque nous sommes a genoux ! levons nous!" what an
axiom ! My evening solitary, but pleasant ; occupation is not
only happiness itself, but it makes one forget unhappiness.
(26th.) Went to St. Cloud. It is a splendid place, but I
thought not of its last owner, but of Napoleon ; and while I
gazed on its magnificence, and thought of that and other
palaces, and of supreme and imperial dominion being so sud
denly, as it were, obtained by a soldier of fortune, it seemed
as if I was contemplating not a reality, but a dream ; and yet
it happened in my 
