CHAPTER XVI.

“Si vous êtes heureuse, je ne suis pas malheureuse,” used to be my motto to you. I must be glad that you are happy; but I must confess I have too muchself, not to feel it a tug at my heart, theno-chanceI 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,praydo 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 compliance. 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 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! 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.

Yours ever, sinner or saint,

M. Cork and Orrery.

What! 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 10me Avril, 1828.Pour avoir le plaisir de te tutoyer, je t’écris, ma chère, en François, ou l’on tutoye naturellement celles que l’on aime. * * *Et je te jure que, quand tu te ferois Bramine, cela me seroit égale, tant que tu conserverais pour moi la même bonté que jadis! Le prince C. m’a parlé de la mort de ton cher père, mais il m’a assuré que je ne devois point t’écrire à ce sujet, pour te rappeller l’abîme de douleur où tu étois dans le premier temps.Ma chère Madame Opie, j’ai partagée la douleur, et je sais ce que c’est d’être privée de l’objet qui nous est cher.* * Pour la secte dont tu fais partie,—je la respecte au-de-là de toutes les autres. Je ne vois rien d’outré dans leur façons de penser, et je voudrais être assez bonne pour me conduire comme eux.Viens nous voir—j’en serai trop enchantée; ton cœur n’est point changé, et je suis sure que ta costume ne te rendra pas moins intéressante pour tes amis. Comptez, ma chère, que le temps ne fait nul effet sur moi, pour changer à l’intérêt que je prendrai toute ma vie à toi.E. M. Charleville.

London, le 10me Avril, 1828.

Pour avoir le plaisir de te tutoyer, je t’écris, ma chère, en François, ou l’on tutoye naturellement celles que l’on aime. * * *

Et je te jure que, quand tu te ferois Bramine, cela me seroit égale, tant que tu conserverais pour moi la même bonté que jadis! Le prince C. m’a parlé de la mort de ton cher père, mais il m’a assuré que je ne devois point t’écrire à ce sujet, pour te rappeller l’abîme de douleur où tu étois dans le premier temps.

Ma chère Madame Opie, j’ai partagée la douleur, et je sais ce que c’est d’être privée de l’objet qui nous est cher.

* * Pour la secte dont tu fais partie,—je la respecte au-de-là de toutes les autres. Je ne vois rien d’outré dans leur façons de penser, et je voudrais être assez bonne pour me conduire comme eux.

Viens nous voir—j’en serai trop enchantée; ton cœur n’est point changé, et je suis sure que ta costume ne te rendra pas moins intéressante pour tes amis. Comptez, ma chère, que le temps ne fait nul effet sur moi, pour changer à l’intérêt que je prendrai toute ma vie à 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 poignant regrets to be felt, in parting from the companions 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 conscientious work of a very gifted writer, and cannot be read without producing, by God’s accompanying blessing, excellent 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 scrupulously 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 littleméchancetéin their composition. I rejoice to see your compliment 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.

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 conscientious work of a very gifted writer, and cannot be read without producing, by God’s accompanying blessing, excellent 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 scrupulously 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 littleméchancetéin their composition. I rejoice to see your compliment 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.

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 committee, (Henry Waymouth,) 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 isperfect, I think. In common speaking his voice is not very 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 was 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 wasonein the morning before the Duke departed, having well performed 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.

11th 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.

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.

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 regretRouse in my heart desponding fear;

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 rook of refuge flee;A dying Saviour’s pardoning love!

May I for shelter seek, like thee,—

Shelter, which can all fears remove,

And to my rook of refuge flee;

A dying Saviour’s pardoning love!

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 performed 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! Thedearest wishof my heart is to see both my parents again; and perhaps it will one day be gratified. Surely, where parents do theirduty, children can never know a tie stronger, or as strong, as theirearliestdependence 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,Ifeel 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 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 benevolent 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 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 ofgreat wealth—that is, ofpower, and the means of self-gratification. Who is to be trusted with such a gift? Not I, I am sure; and ought I not to know thatwishesare a species ofmurmurs, and that “nevertheless, Thy will not mine be done,” is the only proper language? (9th.) Reading Washington 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 asthe clock struck five, 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 I 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 Roughton! But, welcome were our home, and our smiling fire, and welcoming 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 seethathouse, 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 mylastloss annihilated, in a great measure, the sense of every other. (18th, first day.)GrievedI 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 opportunity. * * * 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, 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.

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 performed 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! Thedearest wishof my heart is to see both my parents again; and perhaps it will one day be gratified. Surely, where parents do theirduty, children can never know a tie stronger, or as strong, as theirearliestdependence 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,Ifeel 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 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 benevolent 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 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 ofgreat wealth—that is, ofpower, and the means of self-gratification. Who is to be trusted with such a gift? Not I, I am sure; and ought I not to know thatwishesare a species ofmurmurs, and that “nevertheless, Thy will not mine be done,” is the only proper language? (9th.) Reading Washington 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 asthe clock struck five, 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 I 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 Roughton! But, welcome were our home, and our smiling fire, and welcoming 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 seethathouse, 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 mylastloss annihilated, in a great measure, the sense of every other. (18th, first day.)GrievedI 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 opportunity. * * * 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, 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 convince 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.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 Sevigné 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; probably 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 walk quite so fast, but wait forhim. 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, and 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 worshippers, (chiefly fishermen and their families,) are more truly and fervently devotional. Tradition says, that every evening, at twilight, theghost of a dogis seen to pass under the wall of this churchyard, having begun its walk from the church at B——, 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, andfelthim; for this four-footed ghost, unlike all human ones, is not only visible, but tangible. A worthy, sensible gamekeeper, 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 under the Northmen’s sway.[27]This spectre dog of ours is certainly an animal of taste, to judge by his choice in walks.

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 Sevigné 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; probably 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 walk quite so fast, but wait forhim. 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, and 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 worshippers, (chiefly fishermen and their families,) are more truly and fervently devotional. Tradition says, that every evening, at twilight, theghost of a dogis seen to pass under the wall of this churchyard, having begun its walk from the church at B——, 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, andfelthim; for this four-footed ghost, unlike all human ones, is not only visible, but tangible. A worthy, sensible gamekeeper, 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 under the Northmen’s sway.[27]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, whereseparationcomes not! She survived her 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. Sutton 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 servicewell. Went to Magdalen, committee long and interesting; called at my uncle’s. (6th.) Catherine G. to dinner; didsoenjoy 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.

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. Sutton 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 servicewell. Went to Magdalen, committee long and interesting; called at my uncle’s. (6th.) Catherine G. to dinner; didsoenjoy 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., 11th, 1829.My very 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!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 opportunity 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.

5th mo., 11th, 1829.

My very 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!

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 opportunity 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.

[27]

See the Notes to the Lay of the Last Minstrel.

VISIT 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.”

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.NowI 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 itself and the world. The France which I left a Republic, 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.

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 myséjourwith them while I stay, and am thankful for everything—all so much more than I deserve.” Next day, on the Place de Grêve, 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; agendarmetold me “d’éntrer, et faire la tour.” I found it was the same in form and size as thatd’autrefois. Thence we proceeded to the Jardin des Plantes, which was delightful; I saw the elephant bathe, and admired the splendid giraffe, and one bird, theaigle destructeur, which alone, it was worth coming to see. (1st day.) Went to the Champs Elisées, 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 theTribune des Damesat twelve. At two the chamber assembled—noise, of thecôté droitespecially,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 Elisées; a short, but most interesting, sitting. It was thefête Dieu, and we should all have liked to have seen the procession, but 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 Café 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 acabriolet 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 heldmon petit chapeauon my lap, and put my shawl round my head, and the hat escaped unhurt.[28]

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 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’ssoirée, 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 Hôtel des Isles Britanniques, and went with my friends tole 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 withSœur Angelique, sœur de la Charité; I must go again; it is a most perfect Institution. Went afterwards to the Maison de Santé, in the Rue du Quartier St. Denis; and dined at the Café de Paris, on the Boulevards; dinner excellent, and the room so pretty. (7th day, 4th.) Went to Père 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 wished to stop and ask him what friend they had lost, butdarednot; 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 thepowerof 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 Salpétriere; to the General Lafayette’s; to Sèvres and St. Cloud, &c.

(11th, 1st day.) After meeting, David took me to l’Abbé Gregoire’s and I was delighted with my visit, and next day he accompanied me to Père la Chaise; we had a most interesting walk of four hours, but could not find G. B.’s tomb. In the evening I received a letter from De Bardelin, datedParis, 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 Hermitageunmoved!” 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 theatelierof the sculptor also draws forth her warm encomiums; she says, “delightedwith his General Foy; the statue admirable, the bas-reliefs excellent; also I liked Gregoire’s bust much.” Shortly after she went to see a somnambule, and was “puten rapport avec elle—shevery complimentary—I not satisfied; am to see another; my companion was in ecstacies about nothing.” Her journal continues—

(22nd.) Went to l’Hôtel Dieu, was satisfied; went next to Nôtre 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 thegloryof rare diamonds; also the robes of Napoleon and Josephine, and therobes brodées en fleurs, which he had made for the pope; and the robes of Charles X,bleu 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 afterwards 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:—

Rue 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—buttrêve d’excuses. Here I have been six weeks! I came forfour, but how could I quit thisbeau Paris et les amiables Parisiens, que j’ai trouvés ici? 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 flatteries I have received; but it was humbling, in some measure, to find that I was courted for mypast, not myrecentwritings. 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 among all classes; from the sceptic who owns to me, that when he dies, he expects to go into entire nothingness; to the exemplary and pious catholic, who, believing in his own salvation, is kindly and fervently anxious formine; but I wish my two Generals—one known to thee personally, the other by reputation, 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, fromParis, and came to see me soon after; and I find him out of the service, a Maréchal-de-camp; General chevalier décoré! How glad it made me!The other general is Lafayette; the hero of my childhood, the idol of my youth! 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 hisbonhommieis 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!His daughters called on me the next day, and I had a note from him, inviting me to hissoirée. [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 mornings, 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 completesavant, shut up, studying mathematics, and, for health’s sake, living on bread and water!! He is, however, very clever and agreeable. The Marquis and I were soon acquainted, and agreed to go together to see sights; we were together some hours, during which I was delighted and edified by his deep piety, (he is abon Catholique,) and he gratified me by his desire, that I who am “si bonne, et si dévouée aux bonnes œuvres,” (according to him,) should be “entièrement Catholique.”My next hero is no General, but asculpteur libéral, the first man of his class here; who, before I saw him, was desirous of making a medal of me, for having made himcry his eyes outby my works.Malgré moi, he has made meen medaille, me and mypetit bonnet, which the artists here say looks like a Phrygian helmet, and hasun air classique; but, though young and flattered, the thing islike, and David satisfied.[29]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’spoetical viewsof his art. He has given me much of his precious time; we spent some hours at Père la Chaise, vainly seeking my poor friend’s grave. Père 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 Elisées 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.

Rue 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—buttrêve d’excuses. Here I have been six weeks! I came forfour, but how could I quit thisbeau Paris et les amiables Parisiens, que j’ai trouvés ici? 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 flatteries I have received; but it was humbling, in some measure, to find that I was courted for mypast, not myrecentwritings. 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 among all classes; from the sceptic who owns to me, that when he dies, he expects to go into entire nothingness; to the exemplary and pious catholic, who, believing in his own salvation, is kindly and fervently anxious formine; but I wish my two Generals—one known to thee personally, the other by reputation, 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, fromParis, and came to see me soon after; and I find him out of the service, a Maréchal-de-camp; General chevalier décoré! How glad it made me!

The other general is Lafayette; the hero of my childhood, the idol of my youth! 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 hisbonhommieis 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!

His daughters called on me the next day, and I had a note from him, inviting me to hissoirée. [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 mornings, 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 completesavant, shut up, studying mathematics, and, for health’s sake, living on bread and water!! He is, however, very clever and agreeable. The Marquis and I were soon acquainted, and agreed to go together to see sights; we were together some hours, during which I was delighted and edified by his deep piety, (he is abon Catholique,) and he gratified me by his desire, that I who am “si bonne, et si dévouée aux bonnes œuvres,” (according to him,) should be “entièrement Catholique.”

My next hero is no General, but asculpteur libéral, the first man of his class here; who, before I saw him, was desirous of making a medal of me, for having made himcry his eyes outby my works.Malgré moi, he has made meen medaille, me and mypetit bonnet, which the artists here say looks like a Phrygian helmet, and hasun air classique; but, though young and flattered, the thing islike, and David satisfied.[29]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’spoetical viewsof his art. He has given me much of his precious time; we spent some hours at Père la Chaise, vainly seeking my poor friend’s grave. Père 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 Elisées 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 Bibliothèque 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:—

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 aséance, at the Ecole de Commerce et d’Industrie, where she heard La Fitte, Charles Dupin, &c., and was much delighted. She continues:—

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