CHAPTER XXI.

Wordscan’tdo any justice to the magnificence of the drive by the Dee all the way after the first fifteen miles. The Grampians, and “their dark Lognegan,” sung by Lord Byron in his first poems, defy description.(24th, 1st day.) Went to kirk; interesting to see the groups of men and women in the highland costume, and children also. I was impressed and pleased with the whole scene. The lords and ladies sat in the gallery—I below. The sermon was excellent, the preacher evidently zealous—it was a keeping holy the sabbath day. Next morning I set off again, after giving good advice to the Scotch girl, Agnes Mackay, who waited on me.The most remarkable objects on my way were the immense rocks and mountains around; the Grampians in all their magnificence! Oh! it was at times a fearful pass! the road wound round the edge of a precipice spirally, and there was no fence! (at least at the worst part there was none.) They were, however, so sublime, that I was sorry to part with them for tamer scenery. The Spittal of Glenshee is a desolate, wild, savage looking place indeed! nothing could make me like to abide there, except the wish to do good to some one. (26th.) Rose cheerful, and thankful, and hopeful. Drove to Craig Hall. The scenery is just what I like beyond all other. Steep, rocky banks, wooded by the hand of nature, enclose a clear, rapid stream, breaking over rocky masses as it rolls, and forming tiny cataracts. The walk is a mile long, and ends in a semicircle of rocks, shutting the valley in. It moved my envy more than anything I ever saw. I was sorry to come away.* * * * From Blair Gowrie I went on to Dunkeld. At length the Grampians reappeared, and at first inbaregrandeur, but ere we reached D., which lies sweetly at their feet, they became feathered with trees up to the top. * * What an agreeable surprise! Sir Charles Lemon is here—he tells me the Lord Chancellor will be here to-morrow; I hope to see him too; he also is on his way to Taymouth. Itisa refreshment to see well-known faces anywhere—especially when alone, and far from home—but two such men! That is a treat. To bed, pleased and thankful. (27th.) Set off on my return to D.; next day left for Perth, rest and fire welcome, when I arrived—landlady a Norfolk woman, glad to see me for mycounty’ssake and myown, as she knows my works. (29th.) Went to see Scone in a gig. TheOld Crossto be seen where the kings were proclaimed. Only a doorway remains of the old Palace; but the furniture and bed and cabinetsallused in the new one, which is built of pinky granite, beautiful to my eye. I saw a bed and a screen worked by poor Mary when a prisoner at Lochleven, and her odious son’s bed, &c. Went next to Kinfauns, a beautiful place built of a white and better granite; but I prefer the other. There is a terrace here, and beautiful and grand wooded rocks to be seen from it, and from the windows, and the Tay glides through the vale beneath. The house too is evidently built and furnished by a man of taste and virtu. I am sure I remember Lord Gray, by hispicture, an officer at N. when I was quite young—not out. I saw, and lifted with great difficulty, the sword of W. Wallace. My landlady sent me in, a Norfolk paper; I have cut out S. Wilkin’s affecting letter to show John Sheppard, if I see him at Edinburgh. (30th, 1st day.) Heard, from one of the waiters, that there were Friends opposite; wrote a note to invite myself to sit with them, as the man said they met privately. They received me, and we sat an hour and more, in silence; I think they expected I had a religious concern to visit them.This has been a ruinous week! shocked at the amount of my bill, and I so abstemious too!The next day I committed the great imprudence of going in an open carriage to Crieff, and got wet through; but I was a little comforted by seeing the paragraph in the paper onmyself! * * * Thence I posted to Loch Earne Head, the most beautiful of drives—thence to Callander, but could not get taken in there. (3rd day, 1st Sept.) Embarked on Loch Katrine, and after visiting the Isle resumed our boat, and soon landed at a point whence we had a walk of about four miles, returning very wet and weary, butdelighted.

(24th, 1st day.) Went to kirk; interesting to see the groups of men and women in the highland costume, and children also. I was impressed and pleased with the whole scene. The lords and ladies sat in the gallery—I below. The sermon was excellent, the preacher evidently zealous—it was a keeping holy the sabbath day. Next morning I set off again, after giving good advice to the Scotch girl, Agnes Mackay, who waited on me.

The most remarkable objects on my way were the immense rocks and mountains around; the Grampians in all their magnificence! Oh! it was at times a fearful pass! the road wound round the edge of a precipice spirally, and there was no fence! (at least at the worst part there was none.) They were, however, so sublime, that I was sorry to part with them for tamer scenery. The Spittal of Glenshee is a desolate, wild, savage looking place indeed! nothing could make me like to abide there, except the wish to do good to some one. (26th.) Rose cheerful, and thankful, and hopeful. Drove to Craig Hall. The scenery is just what I like beyond all other. Steep, rocky banks, wooded by the hand of nature, enclose a clear, rapid stream, breaking over rocky masses as it rolls, and forming tiny cataracts. The walk is a mile long, and ends in a semicircle of rocks, shutting the valley in. It moved my envy more than anything I ever saw. I was sorry to come away.

* * * * From Blair Gowrie I went on to Dunkeld. At length the Grampians reappeared, and at first inbaregrandeur, but ere we reached D., which lies sweetly at their feet, they became feathered with trees up to the top. * * What an agreeable surprise! Sir Charles Lemon is here—he tells me the Lord Chancellor will be here to-morrow; I hope to see him too; he also is on his way to Taymouth. Itisa refreshment to see well-known faces anywhere—especially when alone, and far from home—but two such men! That is a treat. To bed, pleased and thankful. (27th.) Set off on my return to D.; next day left for Perth, rest and fire welcome, when I arrived—landlady a Norfolk woman, glad to see me for mycounty’ssake and myown, as she knows my works. (29th.) Went to see Scone in a gig. TheOld Crossto be seen where the kings were proclaimed. Only a doorway remains of the old Palace; but the furniture and bed and cabinetsallused in the new one, which is built of pinky granite, beautiful to my eye. I saw a bed and a screen worked by poor Mary when a prisoner at Lochleven, and her odious son’s bed, &c. Went next to Kinfauns, a beautiful place built of a white and better granite; but I prefer the other. There is a terrace here, and beautiful and grand wooded rocks to be seen from it, and from the windows, and the Tay glides through the vale beneath. The house too is evidently built and furnished by a man of taste and virtu. I am sure I remember Lord Gray, by hispicture, an officer at N. when I was quite young—not out. I saw, and lifted with great difficulty, the sword of W. Wallace. My landlady sent me in, a Norfolk paper; I have cut out S. Wilkin’s affecting letter to show John Sheppard, if I see him at Edinburgh. (30th, 1st day.) Heard, from one of the waiters, that there were Friends opposite; wrote a note to invite myself to sit with them, as the man said they met privately. They received me, and we sat an hour and more, in silence; I think they expected I had a religious concern to visit them.

This has been a ruinous week! shocked at the amount of my bill, and I so abstemious too!

The next day I committed the great imprudence of going in an open carriage to Crieff, and got wet through; but I was a little comforted by seeing the paragraph in the paper onmyself! * * * Thence I posted to Loch Earne Head, the most beautiful of drives—thence to Callander, but could not get taken in there. (3rd day, 1st Sept.) Embarked on Loch Katrine, and after visiting the Isle resumed our boat, and soon landed at a point whence we had a walk of about four miles, returning very wet and weary, butdelighted.

At this point Mrs. Opie became really ill; the cold she had taken was succeeded by fever, and her night was one of “pain, choking, and distress.” Happily some benevolent strangers (Dr. now Sir J. Richardson, the well known arctic traveller, and his lady) came to her assistance, and rendered her all necessary succour. She mentions that Professor Whewell walked ten miles, giving her his seat in a carriage, and at length she reached Callander again; “deeply thankful for the aid received.” Her Journal continues:—

Off, on the fourth, at six, for Stirling; in the coach were some Americans, who overwhelmed me with thanks and praises for the good derived from my works. I was fool enough to be pleased! Stirling Castle on the whole disappointed me. Took boat for Edinburgh at twelve.

She remained at Edinburgh about three weeks, and records in her note book many events of interest; visiting Dr. Chalmers, pleasing meetings with numerous friends, &c. On the 22nd of September she departed, to carry into effect her proposed journey to the Highlands. A few extracts from her note book will enable the reader to trace her route.

On the 22nd of September I left Edinburgh for Glasgow, and dined at the house of Sir W. Hooker, with whom I had the pleasure of renewing acquaintance at the Scientific Meeting at Edinburgh, a short time previously. My day at Glasgow is dear to my recollection. Next morning I set off, per steam boat along the Clyde, to Dumbarton; from thence, by coach, to Loch Lomond. How glad was I to find myself at last gliding up that “Lake full of Islands.” One of these is appropriated to the use of harmless insane people, who are permitted to wander about it at will: had I known this at the time, my interest would have been greatly enhanced. * * * It was a lovely afternoon, the sky was blue, and the clouds floated in silvery brightness above the mountains, and even the lofty head of Ben Lomond was unveiled! As I gazed upon his grandeur, and listened to the gentle ripplings of the waters of the lake as they broke against the shore, I felt a soothing calm and a devotional enjoyment.When a girl, I had delighted to read “Gilpin on Picturesque Scenery,” and particularly had admired the coloured print of the Castle of Inverary, with the sun setting behind it: now I had come to see it! As we rowed over the clear and lovely waters, skirting the proud domains of the house of Argyle, how busy was my memory! The waters were so transparent that I could see to the bottom, which in the mid-day sun, seemed paved with emeralds, and I could also see shells and seaweed of varied sorts.* * * * The morrow came, and what a lovely scene did I gaze upon when I entered my sitting room. The sea was so smooth that the vessels on it, though all the sails were up, appeared quite motionless, when first beheld. The top of Mull was cloudless, but the mists of night were slowly and gracefully unwinding themselves from the verdant sides of Morven, and I was indeed gazing on the Western Isles, so often imaged to my fancy, so full to me of Ossian and poetical associations. But regret mingled with my pleasure, as I knew I was come too late in the year to visit Staffa and Iona. Still it was satisfaction to look at them, and I could not long keep away from the window.* * * As we steamed past “rocky Morven” it was clothed in lights, shadows, and tints which no pencil could paint, nor pen describe. I gazed, almost spell bound, as I floated by. There was an unearthly hue over the western side of the scene, which would soon have assisted the fancy to trace on it the forms of the heroes of Ossian. The declining sun, while scattering over surrounding objects the brightest tints, threw, at the same time, over the Western Isles, and their lofty boundary of rocks, a mysterious, faintly coloured mantle of ever vanishing, yet ever renewed, vapour; the rippling waves were bright with gold and silver; the black shadows of the rocks of Morven were reflected in the glassy bosom of the sea; and the magic colouring of the western vales, mountains, and waters, rendered me insensible to the attractions of the eastern shore, till there was pointed out to me the land of “Selma and of song.”* * * * It was a bright, blue, and nearly cloudless day, and the waters of Lochleven, though motionless, glistened in places, with the rays of the early morning, as I approached the darkly frowning entrance of Glencoe, which reminded me of that of Borrowdale; but Glencoe is formed of higher rocks, and shapes more strangely fantastic. How congenial to such scenes are the deep solitude and stillness that reigns here! In the Glen of the massacre especially, the ruined walls, and cottages destroyed, and the absence of the once cheerful population, tell, without language, a tale of death and destruction, on which silence and desolation are the heart-touching comments! I could apply to Glencoe, with justice, the description “beauty in the lap of horror!” I was in the midst of precipitous and bare mounts, and of peaked rocks, some of which shewed indelible marks of mountain torrents; while below them were gracefully swelling hillocks, which appeared to smile away the gloom of the awful creations above them. The recollection of the horrible crime committed here, thrilled through my heart. Why is it one lingers, as if reluctant to leave a scene of powerful and even painful emotion? It must be from the love of excitement; a love which few outgrow.* * * From Dalmally I retraced my steps to Strongmachran. My way lay up a very steep, high hill, called the “hill of surprise,” from whence I beheld Loch Awe, with its twenty-four islands, lying in its watery grandeur before me. Itwasa surprise, and I was sorry that I was unable to stop, and visit some of the ruins on the Islands: I was on the wrong side, too, for seeing the magnificent pass of Awe.

When a girl, I had delighted to read “Gilpin on Picturesque Scenery,” and particularly had admired the coloured print of the Castle of Inverary, with the sun setting behind it: now I had come to see it! As we rowed over the clear and lovely waters, skirting the proud domains of the house of Argyle, how busy was my memory! The waters were so transparent that I could see to the bottom, which in the mid-day sun, seemed paved with emeralds, and I could also see shells and seaweed of varied sorts.

* * * * The morrow came, and what a lovely scene did I gaze upon when I entered my sitting room. The sea was so smooth that the vessels on it, though all the sails were up, appeared quite motionless, when first beheld. The top of Mull was cloudless, but the mists of night were slowly and gracefully unwinding themselves from the verdant sides of Morven, and I was indeed gazing on the Western Isles, so often imaged to my fancy, so full to me of Ossian and poetical associations. But regret mingled with my pleasure, as I knew I was come too late in the year to visit Staffa and Iona. Still it was satisfaction to look at them, and I could not long keep away from the window.

* * * As we steamed past “rocky Morven” it was clothed in lights, shadows, and tints which no pencil could paint, nor pen describe. I gazed, almost spell bound, as I floated by. There was an unearthly hue over the western side of the scene, which would soon have assisted the fancy to trace on it the forms of the heroes of Ossian. The declining sun, while scattering over surrounding objects the brightest tints, threw, at the same time, over the Western Isles, and their lofty boundary of rocks, a mysterious, faintly coloured mantle of ever vanishing, yet ever renewed, vapour; the rippling waves were bright with gold and silver; the black shadows of the rocks of Morven were reflected in the glassy bosom of the sea; and the magic colouring of the western vales, mountains, and waters, rendered me insensible to the attractions of the eastern shore, till there was pointed out to me the land of “Selma and of song.”

* * * * It was a bright, blue, and nearly cloudless day, and the waters of Lochleven, though motionless, glistened in places, with the rays of the early morning, as I approached the darkly frowning entrance of Glencoe, which reminded me of that of Borrowdale; but Glencoe is formed of higher rocks, and shapes more strangely fantastic. How congenial to such scenes are the deep solitude and stillness that reigns here! In the Glen of the massacre especially, the ruined walls, and cottages destroyed, and the absence of the once cheerful population, tell, without language, a tale of death and destruction, on which silence and desolation are the heart-touching comments! I could apply to Glencoe, with justice, the description “beauty in the lap of horror!” I was in the midst of precipitous and bare mounts, and of peaked rocks, some of which shewed indelible marks of mountain torrents; while below them were gracefully swelling hillocks, which appeared to smile away the gloom of the awful creations above them. The recollection of the horrible crime committed here, thrilled through my heart. Why is it one lingers, as if reluctant to leave a scene of powerful and even painful emotion? It must be from the love of excitement; a love which few outgrow.

* * * From Dalmally I retraced my steps to Strongmachran. My way lay up a very steep, high hill, called the “hill of surprise,” from whence I beheld Loch Awe, with its twenty-four islands, lying in its watery grandeur before me. Itwasa surprise, and I was sorry that I was unable to stop, and visit some of the ruins on the Islands: I was on the wrong side, too, for seeing the magnificent pass of Awe.

The notes of this Journal are closed with the following lines:—

How congenial to the Highlands are solitude and silence! We may deplore the present desolateness and depopulation of those most interesting scenes, but they certainly increase their beauty and solemnity. I always admire the ocean most when there are no vessels whatever on its waves; and the solitude, stillness, and depopulation of the Highlands, were to me, heighteners of their charms.

Mrs. Opie also visited Abbotsford, and thus describes what she saw and felt:—

Eighteen years had passed since I first crossed the Tweed; and Abbotsford, an entirely new creation since that time, was already without inhabitants, and the burial-place of the Scotts, already tenanted! “Well, (said I to myself,) I will see the wonderful man’s house in life, and his house in death.” And at length, at six o’clock on a misty wintry morning, I reluctantly bade farewell to the kindest of friends, and set off for Melrose, where, as soon as I arrived, I ordered a post-chaise and drove to Abbotsford.It was with considerable emotion that I beheld the gates of this far famed, but now untenanted, house!—but the mind of Walter Scott still seemed to pervade everything around. All the objects, all the furniture, spoke of him, and realized, as it were, all the creations of his pen—nay, evidently had helped to create them. It was action and reaction. He began to write with warlike weapons, and things of auld lang syne about him, and these stores, accumulating, impressed themselves powerfully on his imagination, and his imagination in turn stamped them upon his paper, till his pages resembled his rooms, and his rooms resembled his pages.How much was I interested in examining the varied curiosities which the rooms contained—the beauty of the apartments themselves—the pictures—the gate of the Tolbooth and its massy keys—the silver vase, the gift of Lord Byron, containing the ashes of the Greeks, found under the walls of the Acropolis—and the various other objects around me!But the sight of all these things did not tend to elevate my spirits, and I quitted the place with feelings suited to a scene more melancholy still. As I drove past Melrose Abbey, the rain prevented me from stopping to see those picturesque ruins again; but they seemed changed since I saw them in 1816, and less in size—nor was I mistaken, for part of the ruin had fallen down. I also thought that the red colour of the stone was faded; but then, when I saw them before, they were lighted up by a summer sun, and now I beheld them through a thick-falling rain in winter.The fatigue of my journey from Edinburgh had disposed me to sleep, but I was aroused from my slumbers by a strange sensation, like that produced by the motion of a steam vessel. We were fording the Tweed, and going against a very strong current, and, in spite of my admiration of that river, I did not relish the idea of being drowned, even in its classic waters; not that there was any real danger, but the tide rolled darkly and powerfully along, and I was tired and depressed.I soon found a guide to the ruins,[40]and followed her along a narrow path covered with fallen leaves, the emblems of decay; a fitting carpet for the road to the abode of death, which now met my view in unmitigated dreariness. For though the carved roof of the crypt remained entire in its beauty, the sides of the ruin were open to every wind that blew. The graves of Sir Walter and Lady Scott, raised several feet from the ground, were placed immediately beneath the arch of the building, and therefore, in a degree, sheltered from the weather. But not one blade of grass grew on those graves of clay; and, giving the unconscious dead my own feelings, I was weak enough to wish, while the rain fell and the wind whistled around, that their last dwelling had been warmed, at least, by a covering of vegetation. To my judgment, this seemed indeed an idle desire, but feeling, or rather folly perhaps, was predominant. It was with many affecting associations that I gazed on the grave nearest me, that of Sir Walter Scott, and it was some minutes before I could prevail on myself to quit the spot, and go to the burying-ground of Lord and Lady Buchan, where I experienced an absurd feeling of satisfaction in finding that their remains were deposited under stones of memorial, and in a building covered in from the weather. But the sight of these tombs did not call forth in me either regret or emotion. Their inhabitants had died at a good old age, surviving even the usual term of man’s existence; but their far-famed neighbour, in the abode of death, had fallen a victim to premature decay! * * * *

It was with considerable emotion that I beheld the gates of this far famed, but now untenanted, house!—but the mind of Walter Scott still seemed to pervade everything around. All the objects, all the furniture, spoke of him, and realized, as it were, all the creations of his pen—nay, evidently had helped to create them. It was action and reaction. He began to write with warlike weapons, and things of auld lang syne about him, and these stores, accumulating, impressed themselves powerfully on his imagination, and his imagination in turn stamped them upon his paper, till his pages resembled his rooms, and his rooms resembled his pages.

How much was I interested in examining the varied curiosities which the rooms contained—the beauty of the apartments themselves—the pictures—the gate of the Tolbooth and its massy keys—the silver vase, the gift of Lord Byron, containing the ashes of the Greeks, found under the walls of the Acropolis—and the various other objects around me!

But the sight of all these things did not tend to elevate my spirits, and I quitted the place with feelings suited to a scene more melancholy still. As I drove past Melrose Abbey, the rain prevented me from stopping to see those picturesque ruins again; but they seemed changed since I saw them in 1816, and less in size—nor was I mistaken, for part of the ruin had fallen down. I also thought that the red colour of the stone was faded; but then, when I saw them before, they were lighted up by a summer sun, and now I beheld them through a thick-falling rain in winter.

The fatigue of my journey from Edinburgh had disposed me to sleep, but I was aroused from my slumbers by a strange sensation, like that produced by the motion of a steam vessel. We were fording the Tweed, and going against a very strong current, and, in spite of my admiration of that river, I did not relish the idea of being drowned, even in its classic waters; not that there was any real danger, but the tide rolled darkly and powerfully along, and I was tired and depressed.

I soon found a guide to the ruins,[40]and followed her along a narrow path covered with fallen leaves, the emblems of decay; a fitting carpet for the road to the abode of death, which now met my view in unmitigated dreariness. For though the carved roof of the crypt remained entire in its beauty, the sides of the ruin were open to every wind that blew. The graves of Sir Walter and Lady Scott, raised several feet from the ground, were placed immediately beneath the arch of the building, and therefore, in a degree, sheltered from the weather. But not one blade of grass grew on those graves of clay; and, giving the unconscious dead my own feelings, I was weak enough to wish, while the rain fell and the wind whistled around, that their last dwelling had been warmed, at least, by a covering of vegetation. To my judgment, this seemed indeed an idle desire, but feeling, or rather folly perhaps, was predominant. It was with many affecting associations that I gazed on the grave nearest me, that of Sir Walter Scott, and it was some minutes before I could prevail on myself to quit the spot, and go to the burying-ground of Lord and Lady Buchan, where I experienced an absurd feeling of satisfaction in finding that their remains were deposited under stones of memorial, and in a building covered in from the weather. But the sight of these tombs did not call forth in me either regret or emotion. Their inhabitants had died at a good old age, surviving even the usual term of man’s existence; but their far-famed neighbour, in the abode of death, had fallen a victim to premature decay! * * * *

[39]

See “Memoirs of Dr. Chalmers.”

[40]

Dryburgh Abbey.

JOURNEY TO BELGIUM; VISIT TO GHENT; JOURNAL OF HER TRAVELS; LETTER FROM THE RHINE FALLS; HOMEWARD JOURNEY; ARRIVAL AT CALAIS.

In 1835, Mrs. Opie again visited the Continent. As on former occasions, she kept a daily Journal, which is written in very fine characters and in pencil. Her route was directed through Bruges and Ghent to Brussels, where she was to join her friend Madame M., with whom she purposed making a trip up the Rhine.

The earlier part of this Journal, giving an account of her visit to the various charitable institutions in the city of Ghent, Mrs. Opie published inTait’s Magazinefor 1840. From Ghent, she proceeded to Brussels; and at this point of her journey we invite the reader to accompany us, as we follow her steps; occasionally making an extract from her note book. Her friend not having arrived, Mrs. Opie, awaiting her coming, established herself at the Hôtel de France; she says:—

(First day, 2nd of 8th mo.) I have not been out, and perhaps shall not stir; yesterday I read a good deal of dear Mackintosh’s life. How rare is truth!Allrelative to me, except M.’s strictures and opinion of my Memoir of my husband,is erroneous. W. Ashburner, called my cousin!—the “Forget-me-not,” which I wrote years after W. A. died, and I was a wife, said to be addressed to him! That song was written tono one. It is a most interesting memoir, and Sir J.’s praises and just appreciation of my husband delight me, his praise of me is welcome also; but I shed tears while I read, for past joys, and for those who live no more! How have I wept over what I could not but turn to, an account of the dear man’s death. Yes! it is, I am sure it is, satisfactory. He was no daring sceptic, but aseekerto the last, and fully do I believe hefoundand was accepted in the Redeemer! And he was kind to every one;—oh! so truly kind. He loved to give pleasure certainly, and those who do this, havesomethingat least, that was in Christ Jesus.

Who that reads these last touching words can fail to apply them to the dear, loving, and beloved writer? alas! now those who loved her must weep, because she, too, lives no more.

Madame M. having arrived, they went by thechemin de fer, (which they did not find so swift a passage as they expected,) to Anvers, and next day, (the 8th) proceeded to visit the citadel, and walked over every part of it, and also saw the Scheldt and its banks, Flemish and Dutch; thence to Nôtre Dame to see the pictures by Rubens.

Words cannot express (she says) my feelings at sight of the Descent from the Cross,in the lightwhich it was painted for probably. What grand conception! What motion in all the figures! The scene, the subject, the sense of surpassing genius, and the living effect of everything, quite overcame me, even unto tears.

On Sunday, after a “sitting,” in her own room alone, she went with her friend to see several churches, and at one of them theconcierge, on their approaching the altar,

* * * made a dreadful noise, with something in his hand, to forbid it, and as we did not immediately leave the church he cried “allez!” and when we came to the door, which he held in his hand, his look at me was fierce and appalling, and in Flemish (as I suppose) he said something which seemed to metrembleurs; il avait l’air si menaçant que, si javois tardé de quitter la porte, je crois qu’il m’auroit donné un coup quelconque, ses lêvres etoient pâles, comme la mort!

From Antwerp the travellers returned to Brussels, whence they started on the 12th, for Namur, going “unconsciously by the road,notover the plain of Waterloo—a disappointment, but we saw distinctly the mound and the white lion on it, which mark thespot.” From Namur, they proceeded to Huy and Liège, and on the 13th, visited Chaude Fontaine, with which Mrs. Opie was rather disappointed, and “one thought of dear Scotland” dimmed the beauty of this pretty vale in her eyes. Of the cathedral at Liège, she says, “the roof curious, the whole a grandly simple edifice, sculpture in wood excellent; pictures good for little.”

On the 16th they were at Spa, of which she writes:—

This is a lovely spot indeed; to me, how does it bring back my earliest recollections! Poor Amisant used to give mebons bonsand toys from Spa, and tell me stories of it! dined at thetable d’hôte; forty persons present—good company. Next day went to see a famous cascade; the drive thither through a deeply wooded ravine, was beautiful; the cascade itself trumpery. We came back by Malmedy, a pretty town in Prussia, picturesque in buildings and lovely in situation. On the 20th we were to have seen a curious grotto, but could not get horses on account of the odious races. Well! money saved, and fatigue avoided; a hundred persons dined at thetable d’hôte.

They left Spa for Aix la Chapelle, on the 21st, and though disappointed in the country around, were surprised at the width of streets and beauty of the buildings in Aix. Of the cathedral at Aix, Mrs. Opie writes, “outside, in parts, it is beautiful, light, and imposing; and the Hôtel de Ville, old and grand, (whenentire,) as a palace. The fountain opposite to it, with a statue of Charlemagne, in complete armour, with the crown on the head, is curious and interesting, but the passages for the water are small, and have a bad effect.” On the 23rd, her Journal proceeds:—

Rose depressed, Sunday no sabbath for me! This is an odious place. I enjoyed my quiet sitting at home, and was with my dear and endeared brethren and sisters at N. meeting in spirit; in the afternoon drove to Louisberg, an exquisite drive and beautiful walks, commanding the forestdes Ardennes, (no doubt that of the Duke, Rosalind, &c.,) a splendid view; saw, too, the ever-boiling fountain at the village called Bouille; I hope it was not a profanation of the sabbath to go to these places. (24th.) All noise, bustle, and carriages, come in for the races. No one seems to think of anything butles courses. We havebittenall nations now, with this vicious folly! We went to see theTrésorat the cathedral; the relics encased in gold; was glad to see them, but the priest was evidently disappointed at not seeing any marks of homage and reverence about me, for what I saw! Afterwards went to see the church; but was led away from attention to things of man’s creation, by the sight and hearing of a man, in a blouse, who was kneeling before the altar, and in a loud voice doing penance, his arms extended in the form of a cross; so he remained at least half an hour, and from the gallery above I watched him; as he went out, he passed us, pale and feeble from his exertions. M. M. says she has seen such a sight in Ireland, and that when he paused, there were persons answering him from behind the confessional. (25th.) Went to the cathedral, to see, and sit in, Charlemagne’s chair. The man there again,doing as before: the sacristan said it was no penance, it was a voluntary action; and he had an idea of getting by that means to paradise, and that hecame every dayand staid near an hour! This sight interests me much, be it how it may. After dinner went to shew myself, and bedescribedat the passport office. Alas! could not get places in the diligence for Cologne, till sixth day. Two more days in this sink of dissipation! Really I turn from the scenes of gambling, vice, and evil around me, with a feeling of comfort, to the poor,mistaken, but pious man, and penitent conscious sinner, in the cathedral!

On the 28th the travellers proceeded to Cologne, and next day the Journal proceeds:—

My window looked on the river, and I rose at half-past four to gaze at the Rhine; the sun was breaking behind a church, with fine towers, and the water reflected objects. No one seemed waking but myself. It was a still, sublime, and solemn moment. At seven we came on board the steamer, where I now write; the Rhine, broad and rapid, spreading around me. The banks are tame, and fog hides the hills, but the voyage is truly pleasant, and we are on the Rhine!

Landing at Bonn, they proceeded to Godesberg, lying at the foot of the Drachenfels, which they ascended on asses, on the 1st of September; she says:—

It was an exquisite day, and exquisite was the ascent. I enjoyed it, in spite of the disagreeable way of going. We were so high, that the many, and I may say, tall, vineyards, which we had passed on our way, looked only like a carpet beneath us. The lights on the mountains and on the river were very fine, and Rolandseck and Roland tower were the finest features in the scene. On the 2nd we were towed across to the island of Nonningwerth, where was the nunnery, a fine establishment for nuns indeed, and one for noble ladies. It would have delighted me to have passed some time there, making excursions on the Rhine from thence.I had forgotten to mention our most interesting visit to Kreuzberg, a high hill, rising near Bonn. There we saw the buried monks, in a vault near the church; their bodies in a wonderful state of preservation; the lids of the coffins are decayed, and there they lie by each other’s side, some with the nails, toes, and fingers, still fleshed, and so are parts of the knees and legs. I do not remember to have seen any features perfect. It was a curious sight, but did not affect me as I expected it would have done. One thing strikes me on recollection, which I did not think about at the moment, viz: the great length of the limbs. We stay here a day to rest. The students are very picturesque in their appearance, but they have not long hair, at least, we have seen none. Oleanders are everywhere here, like meaner flowers elsewhere, and so fine; one of the students whom I saw, wore a straw hat, with bunches of oleander stuck in it; this, with the naked throat, looked so effeminate! I write this in a chair in the garden. Two days of rain chilled the air, but then itlaid the dust. There is always in the physical, as well as in the moral world, some good coming out of evil! (4th.) Took the steam-boat for Coblentz, my heart full of thankfulness; after agloriousvoyage we arrived, when it was quite dark. Our chambers looked on the Rhine, and the moon shone on it, and the lights of the city on the opposite shore (for we were at Ehrenbreitstein, whose grand fortress towered behind us) added to the beauty of the scene. I was loth to go to bed.

I had forgotten to mention our most interesting visit to Kreuzberg, a high hill, rising near Bonn. There we saw the buried monks, in a vault near the church; their bodies in a wonderful state of preservation; the lids of the coffins are decayed, and there they lie by each other’s side, some with the nails, toes, and fingers, still fleshed, and so are parts of the knees and legs. I do not remember to have seen any features perfect. It was a curious sight, but did not affect me as I expected it would have done. One thing strikes me on recollection, which I did not think about at the moment, viz: the great length of the limbs. We stay here a day to rest. The students are very picturesque in their appearance, but they have not long hair, at least, we have seen none. Oleanders are everywhere here, like meaner flowers elsewhere, and so fine; one of the students whom I saw, wore a straw hat, with bunches of oleander stuck in it; this, with the naked throat, looked so effeminate! I write this in a chair in the garden. Two days of rain chilled the air, but then itlaid the dust. There is always in the physical, as well as in the moral world, some good coming out of evil! (4th.) Took the steam-boat for Coblentz, my heart full of thankfulness; after agloriousvoyage we arrived, when it was quite dark. Our chambers looked on the Rhine, and the moon shone on it, and the lights of the city on the opposite shore (for we were at Ehrenbreitstein, whose grand fortress towered behind us) added to the beauty of the scene. I was loth to go to bed.

After two days’ stay at Coblentz they proceeded by the Rhine to Bingen, and on the 7th ascended the Rüdesheim mountain, from the summit of which they had “a glorious view indeed of the mighty river, into which the river Nahe was seen sending its pale brown waters, contrasting with the soft pale green of its superior neighbour. Eleven green islands in the Rhine were visible from this high point.” Thence their way led to Mayence; they stopped at one place to change horses, when Mrs. Opie says: “I strolled down to the Rhine, where were peasants gaily dressed,en bateau, singing and chorussing their national air, and then raising a cry like that of our harvestmen, only sweeter.” Next day they saw Mayence, and proceeded on to the Duke of Nassau’s palace, which she calls “exquisitely handsome;” thence to Wiesbaden. On the 14th they were at Frankfort, and went to church twice, being “charmed with the preacher, Bonnet;” and after two days exploring in this city, they proceeded on the 16th to Heidelberg, where, the Journal continues,—

We arrived late, after an exquisite drive; the castle grows on one, the more one looks at it; its vastness is surprising, and the beauty of its site, and trees, and gardens, and terraces, is striking; but the Neckar, though pretty, is not large enough for such an edifice, it should have been the Rhine. One view, up the river, is the most advantageous to the castle. * * * The great tun is not worth seeing by English persons, who know there are such things as brewers’ tuns so much larger! Came home delighted with all our sights. On the 19th to Manheim, a lovely drive, the Rhine in all its beauty. We stopped at Schwetzingen, to see the beautiful gardens; at M. we saw the grand Duke’s handsome palace, 400 rooms in it; we did not see all, certainly. (20th, Sabbath day.) Alas! at home till after dinner. (21st.) At Carlsruhe. (23rd.) Set off at eight for Baden, the approach to it is beautiful! that evening I drest and walked to the post, and found a letter telling me of the death of E. B.; oh! her poor mother. We then walked to Chabert’s, and sat under the portico, and ate ice; and saw, but scarcely entered, the grand room, where, all day, men and women are playingrouge et noir. English most of them! (22nd.) Walked after dinner to see a waterfall, the walk was exquisite along the edge of what is, and in what was, the Black Forest. High indeed were the mountains and rocks on either side, and on one towered the black pines of the far-famed forest; the path was steep but gradual, along a narrow murmuring torrent, which in a wet season must have been very fine. After a mile’s walk, at least, we reached the wooden bridge and the cascade, which was well worth coming to see, and we did indeed enjoy our walk. (29th.) To church; it was nearly full of English; a good sermon by an English gentleman. After service walked in the burying-ground; the place was full of crosses, fancies, and flowers, and of some pretty memorials. After dinner at thetable d’hôte, went to my room. (28th.) Went to see the chateaux; the first, that of the Duchess Stephanie; nothing remarkable externally, but there, beneath, were the chambers of the secret tribunal! Alas! our guide was a youth who could only speak German; however, he knew what we wanted to see, and taking a lantern himself and giving us a candle, he led us from the bright rooms and daylight into utter darkness! we saw theoubliette, the room of judgment, and the tribunal, or rather, place of it; the massy stone doors; the dark airless cells; and what Mrs. Trollope has so well described. We then drove to the ruins on the rock, a painfully steep ascent for the horses, but they did it well! It is an exquisite ruin, and from its top we beheld the valley of the Rhine, lying shining and winding beneath, and to the east a mass of beautiful mountains.

On the 30th the travellers left Baden, in company with friends, (and friends and acquaintances they met at every turn,) and on the 1st of October reached Friburg; with the interior of the cathedral they were much struck, and its “windows, all of painted glass, such as I never saw before;” the Journal proceeds;—

From thence we set off for Boldbach,en routeto the Falls, and soon turning into a valley, went up, on foot, a very steep, narrow, rocky defile, the river rolling and talking beneath, the rocks and mountains so high, that in the carriage it was difficult to see to the top, the vale was so narrow! It was sublimely grand to look back, and so repeatedly did the road wind, that it seemed we were blocked in by rocks! this was the Black Forest, and the famousgorge d’enfer. The next thing, worthy of equal admiration, was the Black Forest itself, through which we passed, and the latter part of it we had the moon to light us through. Before we reached the forest, we saw the Alps, and, forsome time, some nearer and plainer than others. Oh! it was glorious!(3rd of 10th mo.) Rose at five, but not off till past seven; and I was going to the Falls of the Rhine! At length I heard them roar, and saw them smoke! and as soon as thevoiturestopped at the inn, I ran off to the Falls.

(3rd of 10th mo.) Rose at five, but not off till past seven; and I was going to the Falls of the Rhine! At length I heard them roar, and saw them smoke! and as soon as thevoiturestopped at the inn, I ran off to the Falls.

TO THOMAS BRIGHTWELL.

Hotel of the Rhine Falls,10th mo., 3rd, 1835.I think, my dear friend, thou wilt not be sorry to hear a little of my goings on. * * Thou didst not come as far as this spot, and my journey has been extended much beyond my original plan; but I am so delighted with the Rhine, that I could not resist the temptation and opportunity—one which cannot occur again—of seeing it in its wondrous beauty here. Three times have I visited the Falls to-day, and, if the moon rises bright, I am to visit them again. We came yesterday from Friburg, and to that place we went from Baden Baden—a beautiful spot, but there is no water except in the environs, and I admire no place where water is not. Friburg Cathedral is most beautiful; they say Strasburg is finer—nous verrons. From F. our route lay through a very steep mountainous country, and through the Black Forest, that haunt of banditti in former times, and the scene of so many tales and romances. It is sublime in its dark-browed beauty still, and a fine moon added to the solemn calm of the scene. But the Alps! long before we saw the Forest the snow mountains were in sight—and also long before we were in Switzerland, Swiss cottages, Swiss chalets, and Swiss costumes, met our eyes at every turn. We went, just after we left Friburg, up a steep rocky defile, and up mountains, and through forests, to the top of which our eyes could scarcely reach, and in which the exquisite beauty of foliage and colouring wentde pairwith sublimity—and from the top of these passes the snow mountains first met my eager gaze. This morning we set off at six precisely; we are at present travelling in a returned carriage—which holds us and our luggage, and we find such modes of conveyance the cheapest and best. It was half-past twelve when we reached this hotel:chemin faisantI heard the roar of the Falls, and saw them smoke, and while my friend staid to eat her breakfast, I (who had had coffee before starting) could not delay my visit to this long-desired scene, and I hurried down a steep path to it, which, if under less powerful influences, I should have cautiously trodden—but I arrived safe at a railing near the fall, and was awhile satisfied! but I soon changed my place, and walked till I came in front of the mighty torrent. Oh! those busy restless waters—no one can fancy what they are! they must be seen to be conceived of! Some persons are disappointed when they see them, and, in one respect, so should I have been, had not prints prepared me for what I was to expect. I am used to see and admire cascades that fall from a height, over one narrow rock, and then over another—and perhaps over another still; butthisis, I may say, like Niagara, atableor flat fall. It is a wide river, coming to an edge or wall of rocks, and leaping over them—then gracefully rolling on, like liquifiedaqua marine—that beautiful green stone of such exquisite tint and clearness. Thechuteitself is like the purest snow; but, ever and anon, as the sun shone on it, some of the tumbling masses, falling over the rocks below the great fall, were like liquid sapphires and of the palest purest blue. Still the Rhine here is, as a river, unlike its usual self, of the full green blue, like the precious stone named above. In itsbestdress, where the boats go, thou mayst remember, it is of that undefinable light, pale-blueish green, the colour of Dresden china. When it flows smoothly on at this place, it turns up a narrow channel, and glides along through richly wooded rocks, and is seen no more! Oh! it is a glorious river! and had it no banks, I should love it for itself alone! There is something awful in the constant roar and eternal motion of these waters! The sea is sometimes calm, and its roar becomes a gentle murmuring, but these rolling waterfalls seem to know no change, but fall and roar for ever, exempt from the common doom of created things, which is to alter and to end. There is an inhabited castle on a rock beside the Rhine-falls; I should like to know whether its inhabitants have, of necessity, acquired the habit of speaking so loud as to break the drum of the ears of their acquaintances!We go on improving in our enjoyments. I mean, the natural beauties we see, go on increasing in sublimity and charm; and so they had need, to console me for my trying absence from my religious duties and opportunities, and my religious friends—my sabbath days—ah! there is the trial. But I dare not repine, I have put myself in the situation, and I often say to myself, like the man in the play, “tu l’as voulu, George, tu l’as voulu!” but I never contemplated so long a tour. We did mean to go back by Holland, but have given that up. * * I am very, very, home sick; however, if permitted to return in health and safety, I shall do so with a deeply thankful heart, and I can also add, with a heart still more attached to the friends I have so long deserted. We have associated occasionally with some pleasant men and women, and have occasionally travelled with them, but I have not desired to form acquaintances. We have mounted the Niederwald, and we visited the Brunnens. We liked Heidelberg much; we were there five days. Chaude Fontaine we liked; but Spa, Weisbaden, and Aix la Chapelle, Ihated; they are sinks of dissipation, gambling, and vice, and even English ladies game there, at the public table and the public rooms, at all hours; and nowhere, and bynone, is the first day of the week kept holy. True, the English as well as the Germans, go to church, after the Lutherans and Catholics are come out of it; butcela suffit.We occasionally see an English newspaper, or rather,Galignani’s Messenger, and are amused at O’Connell’s progress, but alarmed at Spanish affairs. * * Farewell, till I return from my walks, or find I cannot go. I hear the waters roaring most invitingly. * * Just returned—the moon shewed herselfde temps en temps, but not enough; however, I dare say she is now gilding the waters well; but I had no right, I thought, to keep my poor guide out of his bed for my pleasure, so I came away, having seen her rays sparkling on one side of the river, but I doubt whether her beams would ever reach the fall so as to convert it into diamonds; thus I console myself. Farewell, with love to your circle; let my aunt, E. Alderson, know of this letter from her vagrant, and as yet far distant, niece. I thought of you all in the Bible week, and wished myself with you. I shall write to my dear friends, the Sparshalls and Willetts, and my beloved friends at Earlham and the Grove. I hope J. Fletcher and wife are well, &c.Thy truly attached friend,A. Opie.

Hotel of the Rhine Falls,

10th mo., 3rd, 1835.

I think, my dear friend, thou wilt not be sorry to hear a little of my goings on. * * Thou didst not come as far as this spot, and my journey has been extended much beyond my original plan; but I am so delighted with the Rhine, that I could not resist the temptation and opportunity—one which cannot occur again—of seeing it in its wondrous beauty here. Three times have I visited the Falls to-day, and, if the moon rises bright, I am to visit them again. We came yesterday from Friburg, and to that place we went from Baden Baden—a beautiful spot, but there is no water except in the environs, and I admire no place where water is not. Friburg Cathedral is most beautiful; they say Strasburg is finer—nous verrons. From F. our route lay through a very steep mountainous country, and through the Black Forest, that haunt of banditti in former times, and the scene of so many tales and romances. It is sublime in its dark-browed beauty still, and a fine moon added to the solemn calm of the scene. But the Alps! long before we saw the Forest the snow mountains were in sight—and also long before we were in Switzerland, Swiss cottages, Swiss chalets, and Swiss costumes, met our eyes at every turn. We went, just after we left Friburg, up a steep rocky defile, and up mountains, and through forests, to the top of which our eyes could scarcely reach, and in which the exquisite beauty of foliage and colouring wentde pairwith sublimity—and from the top of these passes the snow mountains first met my eager gaze. This morning we set off at six precisely; we are at present travelling in a returned carriage—which holds us and our luggage, and we find such modes of conveyance the cheapest and best. It was half-past twelve when we reached this hotel:chemin faisantI heard the roar of the Falls, and saw them smoke, and while my friend staid to eat her breakfast, I (who had had coffee before starting) could not delay my visit to this long-desired scene, and I hurried down a steep path to it, which, if under less powerful influences, I should have cautiously trodden—but I arrived safe at a railing near the fall, and was awhile satisfied! but I soon changed my place, and walked till I came in front of the mighty torrent. Oh! those busy restless waters—no one can fancy what they are! they must be seen to be conceived of! Some persons are disappointed when they see them, and, in one respect, so should I have been, had not prints prepared me for what I was to expect. I am used to see and admire cascades that fall from a height, over one narrow rock, and then over another—and perhaps over another still; butthisis, I may say, like Niagara, atableor flat fall. It is a wide river, coming to an edge or wall of rocks, and leaping over them—then gracefully rolling on, like liquifiedaqua marine—that beautiful green stone of such exquisite tint and clearness. Thechuteitself is like the purest snow; but, ever and anon, as the sun shone on it, some of the tumbling masses, falling over the rocks below the great fall, were like liquid sapphires and of the palest purest blue. Still the Rhine here is, as a river, unlike its usual self, of the full green blue, like the precious stone named above. In itsbestdress, where the boats go, thou mayst remember, it is of that undefinable light, pale-blueish green, the colour of Dresden china. When it flows smoothly on at this place, it turns up a narrow channel, and glides along through richly wooded rocks, and is seen no more! Oh! it is a glorious river! and had it no banks, I should love it for itself alone! There is something awful in the constant roar and eternal motion of these waters! The sea is sometimes calm, and its roar becomes a gentle murmuring, but these rolling waterfalls seem to know no change, but fall and roar for ever, exempt from the common doom of created things, which is to alter and to end. There is an inhabited castle on a rock beside the Rhine-falls; I should like to know whether its inhabitants have, of necessity, acquired the habit of speaking so loud as to break the drum of the ears of their acquaintances!

We go on improving in our enjoyments. I mean, the natural beauties we see, go on increasing in sublimity and charm; and so they had need, to console me for my trying absence from my religious duties and opportunities, and my religious friends—my sabbath days—ah! there is the trial. But I dare not repine, I have put myself in the situation, and I often say to myself, like the man in the play, “tu l’as voulu, George, tu l’as voulu!” but I never contemplated so long a tour. We did mean to go back by Holland, but have given that up. * * I am very, very, home sick; however, if permitted to return in health and safety, I shall do so with a deeply thankful heart, and I can also add, with a heart still more attached to the friends I have so long deserted. We have associated occasionally with some pleasant men and women, and have occasionally travelled with them, but I have not desired to form acquaintances. We have mounted the Niederwald, and we visited the Brunnens. We liked Heidelberg much; we were there five days. Chaude Fontaine we liked; but Spa, Weisbaden, and Aix la Chapelle, Ihated; they are sinks of dissipation, gambling, and vice, and even English ladies game there, at the public table and the public rooms, at all hours; and nowhere, and bynone, is the first day of the week kept holy. True, the English as well as the Germans, go to church, after the Lutherans and Catholics are come out of it; butcela suffit.

We occasionally see an English newspaper, or rather,Galignani’s Messenger, and are amused at O’Connell’s progress, but alarmed at Spanish affairs. * * Farewell, till I return from my walks, or find I cannot go. I hear the waters roaring most invitingly. * * Just returned—the moon shewed herselfde temps en temps, but not enough; however, I dare say she is now gilding the waters well; but I had no right, I thought, to keep my poor guide out of his bed for my pleasure, so I came away, having seen her rays sparkling on one side of the river, but I doubt whether her beams would ever reach the fall so as to convert it into diamonds; thus I console myself. Farewell, with love to your circle; let my aunt, E. Alderson, know of this letter from her vagrant, and as yet far distant, niece. I thought of you all in the Bible week, and wished myself with you. I shall write to my dear friends, the Sparshalls and Willetts, and my beloved friends at Earlham and the Grove. I hope J. Fletcher and wife are well, &c.

Thy truly attached friend,

A. Opie.

From the Falls the journey was continued to Zurich, (“a noble lake, the banks all studded with country houses and gardens,”) and Lucerne. Her Journal continues:—

Arrived by twilight (on the 5th) at beautiful Lucerne! The Righi was before us, unveiled almost all the way, and now we found him on the banks of the lake,as it seemed; on either side were snow mountains, in rows, one behind another, filling up the lake in one place, so as to make it seem impassible by boat. The moon was rising—the sun setting—a neck of green land covered with flowers, was shooting into the lake, near where I was, and the whole scenery was lovely beyond description. Our inn was eight stories high! my room five, but then it commanded the lake and its beauties, and I was never tired of looking out of my window. From the balcony I saw the moon rolling its flood of light into the bosom of the lake, the Righi in deep shadow, the snow hills of a ghostly white, and the rays just catching on some of their sharp peaks. (6th.) Mont Pilate, which rises just behind our hotel, is the most beautifully outlined and grandest mountain I have yet seen. We rowed on the lake to where the rocks and hills formed a complete cross; four cantons at the end of the four arms, Uri, Friburg, Unterwald, and Lucerne; the wooded rocks come down straight into the lake, and the effect is fine, but there is no walk on the banks, as at Zurich. Dined at thetable d’hôte, dinner excellent; in short this hotel both in rooms, situation, attendance, and fare, is perfect. In the morning we went to see the famous lion, sculptured in a rock near, from a model by Thorwaldsen; the model isexquisite. We went then to the fair, and were amused with the different costumes. In the twilight we walked along the lake, and through the cloisters of the church of the Jesuits, and lingered on the shore as long as we could. (7th.) Saw the sun rise at six, behind the Righi, from my window, and fill the lake below with crimson light; oh! it was glorious; but so fleeting! It was beautiful to see the mists rolling off the mountains. We were very sorry to come away.

The next two days rain and mist prevailed, and the mountains were closed in; no Jungfrau visible! At Berne, at thetable d’hôte, Mrs. Opie found herself placed beside amarquise, whom she supposed from her accent must be English; “she said she was born English, but was the widow of a French peer, the Marquis Lally Tollendal!” At length, on the 10th, the sun shone; it was Sunday, and after attending church, the travellers walked on the ramparts, and saw a “piece of the Jungfrau, and one or two snow hills, but no more.” On the 11th, weary of waiting, they proceeded to Thun; but were still pursued by rain and mist. However, at Interlachen, a gleam of sunshine lighted up the prospect, and they saw the distant Alps “in beautiful and glorious succession—a scene never to be forgotten.” On the 14th, Mrs. Opie was greatly distressed at reading the announcement of Mrs. J. J. Gurney’s death, in Galignani. Of this painful event she writes:—

A most afflicting and unexpected event! the death of my beloved young friend, Mary, the wife of my dearest and best friend, J. J. Gurney. I had learnt to love her dearly; by constant and never-failing experience I knew the generosity of her heart, and the openness of her hand in giving! Her will to do good, was even greater than her power! To her husband she was the heightener of his joys, the soother of his trials, the sharer, and I may say assistant, of his literary labours; to his children she was a most affectionate, kind, and judicious mother; to me she was ever a kind, attentive friend, and I looked forward to her as one of the comforts of my old age! but she is gone before me, and has left a blank which cannot be filled up. Alas! how many are mourning with me for her loss! but it is my misery to deplore her alone in a foreign land! deplore—I mean for the sake of others; for she, I can have no doubt, is gone to glory! to that Redeemer through whom alone she hoped for acceptance, and for the joys of the world to come!

Mrs. Opie ceased to make any entry in her Journal for many days after this. She proceeded to Basle and Friburg, and thence to Strasburg and Manheim, where she found letters that cheered and relieved her.

Here she enters in her note book:—

So thankful to be here! To-morrow I hope to be on the Rhine, and my face turned towards home. May I not be disappointed! I hope fearfully, and I trust humbly.

On the 22nd they were at Mayence; thence they went on board the boat. She says:—

We went down into the handsome cabin, but were most civilly requested to leave it, as it was engaged for the Princess of Saxony. We went on board again, and I soon forgot even my sorrow, in the lovely scenery around. On the deck I had a flatteringrencontrewith the Princess, who, attracted by my singular dress, opened a conversation with me. At last she asked my name; and when I said Amelia Opie, “Madame Opie,” she exclaimed, “quoi! auteur célèbre!” and then she was kinder still, had one of her own stools brought for me, and made me sit beside her.

At Cologne she took her leave of the Rhine:—

I rose (she says) in the night to look at the river, &c., and for the last time gazed on its beauty, from the spot where I first saw it. How much had I undergone of trial, in many ways, since I saw it last! I felt humbled, but resigned and contented, and, I trust,taught.

On the 27th they reached Brussels, and the next day, Ghent. On the 1st November the two friends parted at Lisle, and Mrs. Opie, travelling all night, reached Calais, where she closes her Journal with the following words:—

So ends my Journal of my journey; would it were a better record of better things! But I am returned;good thingsmore endeared to me than ever; and when I saw Calais to-day, and remembered what I was when I first saw it, in 1802, I felt overwhelmed and humbled with a sense of being richer, wiser, and happier, in one sense, than I was then; for I had learned to know my Saviour, and not as a teacher and a prophet only, but as the Redeemer, as He who died that I might live, and through whose merits alone I am to be saved. Glory be to the most High for this greatest of all His mercies!A. O., 2nd of 11th mo., 1835.

A. O., 2nd of 11th mo., 1835.

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.

Mrs. Opie returned from her trip up the Rhine at the close of November, 1835. This was her last journey; from this time her absences from home were never of long duration, but limited to a few weeks in London, and occasional visits to friends in the neighbourhood of Norwich. She did not remain many months in the lodgings in St. Giles’ Street, but transferred herself to Lady’s Lane, where she had commodious apartments, and in which she remained until her final removal to the Castle Meadow House. In this home she settled herself, surrounded by her Lares, the “Portraits,” which hung around her, and appeared to great advantage, when lighted up, at night, by wax-lights in branch lamps. The most beautiful of them, the portrait of herself, is not described by her pen. It was painted soon after her marriage, and was engraved (though very indifferently) for the No. of the “Cabinet,” in which Mrs. Taylor’s memoir of her appeared. This picture is certainly very charming, and is also admirable as a work of art.

Bright colours Mrs. Opie delighted in, and she had a sort of passion for prisms. She had several set in a frame, and mounted like a pole-screen; and this unique piece of furniture stood always in her window, and was a constant source of delight to her. “Oh! the exquisite beauty of the prisms on my ceiling just now, (she writes) it is a pleasure to exist only to look at it. I think that green parrots and macaws, flying about in their native woods, must look like that.” Flowers, too, were her constant companions; she luxuriated in them, and filled her window-sills with stands of them, and covered her tables with bouquets; their most luscious scents seemed not too strong for her nerves. Light, heat, and fragrance, were three indispensables of enjoyment for her.

It has been said, with truth, that her mornings, during the latter years of her life, were spent in an almost constant succession of receiving visitors, and writing letters. Everybody who came to Norwich sought her; old friends, acquaintances, and strangers hastened to pay her their respects, and she loved to welcome all, and to give a cordial greeting to each. The extent of her correspondence was such, that it would have been a burden, had it not been a delight. In a letter written, in 1849, to her friend, Miss Emily Taylor, she said, “if writing were even an effort to me, I should not now be alive, but must have beenabsolument epuisée; and it might have been inserted in the bills of mortality—‘dead of letter-writing, A. Opie.’ My maid and I were calculating the other day, how many letters I wrote in the year, and it is not less than six in a day, besides notes.”

Her pen was also diligently employed in writing articles for various periodicals of the day. She regretted afterwards that she had not kept a list of the publications to which she had sent contributions, as she was frequently applied to by friends, anxious to identify her verses, &c. The “reminiscences,” to which reference has been occasionally made, published in Tait and in Chambers, were written about this time.

The year 1836 seems to have been unproductive of change. We find her recording visits to Keswick, to Northrepps, to Swanton Morley; and (as always) to Earlham. In the following year, her revered friend, J. J. Gurney, went on a religious visit to the United States, and was absent nearly three years. On his return he printed, for circulation among his friends, an account of this journey, “described in Familiar Letters to Amelia Opie.” This interesting volume is very scarce, as only a limited number of copies was printed, and given by the author to his friends. This year Mrs. Opie mentions the arrival of Bishop Stanley and his family in Norwich, as “a great acquisition;” and their friendship proved indeed a source of much happiness to her.

The farewell letter from her venerable friend Lady Cork, written in the spring of this year, will be read with interest.

Back to Index Next