CHAPTER XXIV.

I was never (she writes) so fortunate as to be in company with that celebrated man George Canning, but at a very early period of his life and mine, he was brought, by circumstances, under my admiring observation. An aunt of his was married to a clergyman in Norwich, and lived there, and when he was at Eton he used to pass part of his holidays at her house.He had already distinguished himself by his poetical talents, and the Eton boy had given promise of what the man might be. During one of his visits to his aunt, there was a benefit concert given at our Assembly Rooms, to which I waschaperonedby an old lady of my acquaintance. Till the middle of the first Act we were able to hear and enjoy the music, but then our attention was disturbed by the entrance of George Canning’s aunt, with a large party. Unfortunately, they took their seats before us, and instead of listening to the music, began to converse, as if nothing was going on. I was not so much annoyed as I otherwise should have been, because I was told that the young man before me was the Eton boy, whose productions had been so much admired. I was, therefore, interested in examining his countenance, and was pleased to hear his voice, though exerted during a violin concerto!But I shared at length in the displeasure of my companion, who, finding the predestined orator becoming more and more vociferous, gave him a rap on the shoulder with her fan, and when he turned round, astonished at the blow, shook her head at him reproachfully. He understood the appeal, and bowed his head gracefully and respectfully in return; nor did he offend again, but evidently reproved the talkativeness of his party. This delighted my old lady and still more myself. The feeling and well-bred youth, did not yet think he had made sufficient amends; and as soon as the Act was concluded he came up to my aged friend, and, with an ingenuous blush on his cheek, he said, “I am very sorry, ma’am, that I interfered with your pleasure by my talking just now, and am really ashamed of myself, pray excuse me; I assure you I will not offend again.” The old lady received the apology as graciously as it was made; and my young heart rejoiced to find that this boy, in spite of the head-turning honours which were his at this early period, was possessed of, what a long life’s observation has taught me to believe is almost the rarest quality, namely, a due consideration for the rights of others inlittle things. From that time he possessed a highernichein my esteem, than his successes at Eton could have given him.Many years elapsed before I saw him again; for though I became rather intimate with his aunt, he never visited at the house while I happened to be one of the guests; and at an early period of my life, the family quitted Norwich. But I saw him soon after he obtained a seat in Parliament, (1793,) and when the Pitt administration had won the young orator from his early political friends, and ranked him amongst their adherents. At the time to which I allude he was standing on Windsor Terrace, bare headed; his cheek evidently flushed with pleasurable emotion, and listening to George the Third, who, with the Queen, and the Royal Family, was taking his evening walk there. The Royal party stopped some time before the young member, and it was with an emotion of pleasure that I saw him thus publicly distinguished by his Sovereign.The last time I beheld him, was in the Hall of Buckingham House, when the Queen and Regent received at that palace, and he was returning from alevée. With what increased interest did I then behold him; he was then in middle life, but I saw the same character of face, and features, as when I was interested in the Eton boy. How different was now his bearing; how different the character of his person altogether! There was a degree of dignity in his mien, and a loftiness in the carriage of his head, which a well-founded consciousness of his importance in the scale of society would naturally give, at the same time, there was a slight expression of sadness in his smiles; yet he might be justly called the child of prosperous ambition! His talents had raised him to the highest offices of the state; his eloquence was the delight of his friends, and the terror of his enemies; he had formed a high and happy connexion in marriage; he was admired by his opponents, and loved by his intimates; and it seemed as if this world could bestow on him nothing more!But even then, the corroding cares of public life and their awful responsibilities, were, no doubt, preparing to fasten on his heart, and gradually destroy the functions of life. Stormy grew the political horizon during the years that ensued; though on the whole, he may be said (to use his own words) “to have weathered the storm;” and, at the period of his untimely death, he seemed to have overcome every prejudice against him; and when he fell a victim to his public duties, a universal lamentation attended his exit, and a universal plaudit!Among his mourners, none was more sincere than myself, and rarely, even yet, do I pass his statue, without breathing a sigh to his memory, and exclaiming, as I gaze on that sculptured form, “Oh rare George Canning!”

He had already distinguished himself by his poetical talents, and the Eton boy had given promise of what the man might be. During one of his visits to his aunt, there was a benefit concert given at our Assembly Rooms, to which I waschaperonedby an old lady of my acquaintance. Till the middle of the first Act we were able to hear and enjoy the music, but then our attention was disturbed by the entrance of George Canning’s aunt, with a large party. Unfortunately, they took their seats before us, and instead of listening to the music, began to converse, as if nothing was going on. I was not so much annoyed as I otherwise should have been, because I was told that the young man before me was the Eton boy, whose productions had been so much admired. I was, therefore, interested in examining his countenance, and was pleased to hear his voice, though exerted during a violin concerto!

But I shared at length in the displeasure of my companion, who, finding the predestined orator becoming more and more vociferous, gave him a rap on the shoulder with her fan, and when he turned round, astonished at the blow, shook her head at him reproachfully. He understood the appeal, and bowed his head gracefully and respectfully in return; nor did he offend again, but evidently reproved the talkativeness of his party. This delighted my old lady and still more myself. The feeling and well-bred youth, did not yet think he had made sufficient amends; and as soon as the Act was concluded he came up to my aged friend, and, with an ingenuous blush on his cheek, he said, “I am very sorry, ma’am, that I interfered with your pleasure by my talking just now, and am really ashamed of myself, pray excuse me; I assure you I will not offend again.” The old lady received the apology as graciously as it was made; and my young heart rejoiced to find that this boy, in spite of the head-turning honours which were his at this early period, was possessed of, what a long life’s observation has taught me to believe is almost the rarest quality, namely, a due consideration for the rights of others inlittle things. From that time he possessed a highernichein my esteem, than his successes at Eton could have given him.

Many years elapsed before I saw him again; for though I became rather intimate with his aunt, he never visited at the house while I happened to be one of the guests; and at an early period of my life, the family quitted Norwich. But I saw him soon after he obtained a seat in Parliament, (1793,) and when the Pitt administration had won the young orator from his early political friends, and ranked him amongst their adherents. At the time to which I allude he was standing on Windsor Terrace, bare headed; his cheek evidently flushed with pleasurable emotion, and listening to George the Third, who, with the Queen, and the Royal Family, was taking his evening walk there. The Royal party stopped some time before the young member, and it was with an emotion of pleasure that I saw him thus publicly distinguished by his Sovereign.

The last time I beheld him, was in the Hall of Buckingham House, when the Queen and Regent received at that palace, and he was returning from alevée. With what increased interest did I then behold him; he was then in middle life, but I saw the same character of face, and features, as when I was interested in the Eton boy. How different was now his bearing; how different the character of his person altogether! There was a degree of dignity in his mien, and a loftiness in the carriage of his head, which a well-founded consciousness of his importance in the scale of society would naturally give, at the same time, there was a slight expression of sadness in his smiles; yet he might be justly called the child of prosperous ambition! His talents had raised him to the highest offices of the state; his eloquence was the delight of his friends, and the terror of his enemies; he had formed a high and happy connexion in marriage; he was admired by his opponents, and loved by his intimates; and it seemed as if this world could bestow on him nothing more!

But even then, the corroding cares of public life and their awful responsibilities, were, no doubt, preparing to fasten on his heart, and gradually destroy the functions of life. Stormy grew the political horizon during the years that ensued; though on the whole, he may be said (to use his own words) “to have weathered the storm;” and, at the period of his untimely death, he seemed to have overcome every prejudice against him; and when he fell a victim to his public duties, a universal lamentation attended his exit, and a universal plaudit!

Among his mourners, none was more sincere than myself, and rarely, even yet, do I pass his statue, without breathing a sigh to his memory, and exclaiming, as I gaze on that sculptured form, “Oh rare George Canning!”

[43]

This alludes to Mrs. Opie’s keeping a table at the yearly sale of the Repository, for the Norwich Sick poor Society; this she did during many years, and an admirable saleswoman she was. On one of these occasions she wrote to a friend, “Simeon’s Life is most precious to me. I have had extracts from it made, and printed, to be sold at the Repository.”

THE SEVENTY-FIFTH YEAR; NOTES AND INCIDENTS, IN THE YEARS 1845-46; DEATHS OF MR. J. J. GURNEY AND OF DR. CHALMERS; LETTER FROM CROMER; DEATH OF MRS. E. ALDERSON; MRS. OPIE’S VISIT TO LONDON IN THE SPRING OF 1848; LETTER FROM THENCE.

Mrs. Opie was now entering upon her seventy-fifth year; confinement and pain were her portion during a large part of her remaining days; and yet, on the whole, she was remarkably free from most of the infirmities, bodily and mental, usually attendant upon such an advanced age. Her sight was perfect, and even excelled in keenness; so that she read without difficulty the finest print, and wrote in the same minute and delicate characters to the last. Her sense of hearing, too, though less acute, was not perceptibly impaired; and her carriage was as erect, and indicative of vigour and energy, as of yore. But it was her soul—the mind within her—that never felt the frosts of age. Her heart beat warm, her eye kindled with living joy, her spirit responded like a well-tuned lyre, to every breath that passed over it; and she was, too, such a very woman in all her sympathies and antipathies. Such quick sensibilities and vivid perceptions, such appreciation of little attentions, and cordial interest in that which touched the hearts of others—no wonder the young loved her! Perhaps, never were so many young and fair faces seen clustering around an old one, as were to be found in her room, week after week. They came, and made her their confidante;—and she liked so well to hear the tales, and to enter into the hopes and pleasures of youth!

Her love of fun,[44]too, her merry laugh, her ready repartee, made one forget that she had numbered three-score years and ten. If we should ask, whence came this bright and joyous old age? we may trace it partly to natural temperament; her nature was genial, her temper sweet, and, until a late period, her health was excellent. But, great as these natural advantages were, more yet was owing to religious principle, and self-discipline. She was not kind and forbearing merely because her temper was sweet: she was so on principle; in obedience to the great command of the gospel, “Love one another.” Her readiness to pass by an unkind or slighting action, did not spring from easy indifference; none was more keenly sensitive to these things. When she was deeply wounded on one occasion, and could find no excuse for the offender, she looked sad and disquieted, and at length said, “I hope I shall be able in time toforgetthis.” It pained her to think otherwise than well of any one; it was a realpangto be obliged to believe that he had acted unworthily. She wept over the misdeeds of others, and rejoiced when they acted well and nobly. She was “tender-hearted” towards the failings of others, andwouldnot believe an evil report. There was really nothing which roused her anger so much as for any one to spread a report to the disadvantage of another; it seemed an offence done to herself: and is not this the spirit of Christianity, akin to the “mind that was in Jesus?”

It were easy to give instances proving these to be no exaggerated statements. It may be permitted to mention one illustration of her humble-minded ingenuousness in acknowledging herself to have done wrong. The writer of these lines was one day calling on Mrs. Opie, when some one who was very deaf, and talked in a loud, harsh voice, was visiting her. After he had left the room, chancing to refer to something that had passed, she repeated the words of her visitor in his dissonant tones—in fact, mimicked him to the life! Almost immediately after reaching home, the writer received a note from Mrs. O., saying how much self-reproach she was suffering, in the thought of the “unchristian and vulgar action” of which she had been guilty, and begging it might be forgiven.

We have seen that the loneliness of her lot was felt increasingly, as her years multiplied, but happily, most happily for her, she was sustained by the consciousness of the Divine presence; and it was this which cheered her lonely hours, and inspired the sentiment with which we find her entering upon the new year; she thus writes:—

(2nd mo., 4th, 1845.) I can say with truth that I am neverlessalone than when alone: home is becoming daily more and more the place that suits me best. I have many cares and some trials; but I feel, in the depths of my heart, that all is right; and that all has been, and will be, for my good. “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?”

This month occurred the death of Sir T. F. Buxton, causing another gap in the circle of Mrs. Opie’s intimate friends. She had been long and greatly attached to him, and all his family; and cordially united in his views for the abolition of slavery, and in his desires and plans for the improvement of Africa.

During the storms of the winter, great inroads had been made at Cromer by the sea, and referring to this she wrote to her friend at Northrepps, at this time, saying:—

I am very sorry for that dear West Cliff,“Where once my careless childhood strayed, a stranger yet to pain.”There used to be, I am sure, a field before one comes to S. Hoare’s field, where I used to gather the blue bugloss, and deck myself out in it. Such is my love of Cromer, I sometimes think, when I lost my dear father, I should have settled myself there, or very near it, (on the West Cliff, most probably,) had I not joined Friends.

I am very sorry for that dear West Cliff,

“Where once my careless childhood strayed, a stranger yet to pain.”

There used to be, I am sure, a field before one comes to S. Hoare’s field, where I used to gather the blue bugloss, and deck myself out in it. Such is my love of Cromer, I sometimes think, when I lost my dear father, I should have settled myself there, or very near it, (on the West Cliff, most probably,) had I not joined Friends.

In the same letter she speaks of several books she was reading, and says:—

* * * I have read two volumes, (the last two, I think,) of Lord Malmesbury’s Diaries, and with intense interest. I knew so many of the men he writes about, and lived on the spot where they acted. But, be not angry, as well as surprised, when I tell thee, that, of the fourth volume, William Pitt is my hero, and eke George III; their characters and powers come out there in such high relief! * * I am also reading Carlyle’s history of the French Revolution—full of genius, pathos, and pictures; with all its faults, (and it has great ones,) still, I can hardly lay it down!

Shortly after, recurring to the subject of the weather, she wrote:—

I try not to be impatient of the duration of this winter, and I rejoice at the belief, (probably, however, an erroneous one,) that myonlytree, an elm, in my south garden, into which my sitting room looks, is budding! It is a pain to me to think of the sufferings of inanimate nature, as well as of human nature. I grieve for the cruel sea’s inroads at Cromer! But, as almost all things “work together” for some “good,” these dangers give rise to circumstances, honourable to one’s species; for instance, the pious child that would not be saved till his father’s safety was secured. Generally speaking, I have long thought that in these days filial piety was at a low ebb; but, in this instance, assuredly, the high tides have floated it into my good opinion again. I am just returned from Earlham, where I have been passing a happy day and a half, with J. J. Gurney and Eliza; no other guest there but myself. We called at dear W. Forster’s door on our way home.

Mrs. Opie made frequent visits, in the course of this year, to her friends; and mentions with peculiar pleasure meeting Mr. Hallam, during her stay at Ketteringham. Although occasionally suffering from accesses of her old disorder, she was, upon the whole, free from pain. Her notes refer to the great enjoyment she felt in attending various religious meetings, and also the course of lectures at the Museum, delivered by Professor Sedgwick.

On the return of the autumnal season her malady distressed her much, and during her stay at Northrepps she was quite confined to the house; “never quitting it after I entered it, till I got into the carriage which took me away; but though unwell during the eighteen days I spent there, I had much enjoyment.” In October of the following year, writing to her friend there, she said:—

Oh! how sorry I am that I cannot come to thee next week, even in a carrier’s cart; but I cannot. Dr. Hull says “it would be madness;” and Mr. Crosse says, “he hopes my finger may allow me to go to Keswick;” but I have so much cold and cough besides, that I fear I shall not be able to leave the house at all. Itisa disappointment to me not to have paid my usual visit to Cromer, and to feel there the gratitude due to Him who has in unmerited mercy spared me, that I might have been enabled once more to enjoy the society of my dear friends at that place, so full to me of early and pleasant recollections.

In the course of the summer of 1846 she was cheered by a visit from Mrs. Backhouse, the daughter of Mr. J. J. Gurney, (whom Mrs. Opie always called her grandchild,) bringing with her her infant son, who was greeted as great-grand-child, and pronounced a darling. “I love all babies,” she said, “but this one excels them all in my eyes.” Her cousin, Mr. R. Woodhouse, also visited her in the month of August. But amid all her cheerful and sympathizing enjoyment, she suffered grievously. A sorrowful note, written about this time, tells how much.

* * * You will be glad to hear I am better. This day week I was in great pain for hours! How thankful I ought to be; nothing can have exceeded Dr. Hull’s attention; he came twice every day to me; and I am sure his medicines have done me much good.P.S. Sir R. Peel’s heart has stolenmine; that exquisite self-oblivion, and that prompt sympathy with poor Haydon’s sorrows, even only four days before his death: and then the feeling and immediate reply to the hopes of the poor suicide in his letter in his dying moments; and the prompt help, and the promised succour of his purse and influence at a future time, and when he (Sir Robert) was not himself lying on a bed of roses! Oh! he is a good, as well as a great man, and God’s blessing must rest on him.

P.S. Sir R. Peel’s heart has stolenmine; that exquisite self-oblivion, and that prompt sympathy with poor Haydon’s sorrows, even only four days before his death: and then the feeling and immediate reply to the hopes of the poor suicide in his letter in his dying moments; and the prompt help, and the promised succour of his purse and influence at a future time, and when he (Sir Robert) was not himself lying on a bed of roses! Oh! he is a good, as well as a great man, and God’s blessing must rest on him.

On the 4th of January, 1847, died Mr. J. J. Gurney. Three weeks before, he had been thrown from his pony, while crossing Orford Hill. At first he appeared not to have sustained much injury; and, with thoughtful love, he hastened to Lady’s Lane to inform his dear friend of the accident, saying that he could not bear she should hear of it from any other but himself, that he might assure her with his own lips of his safety. Alas! how little did either of them imagine that ere that moon had waned he would be sleeping the sleep of death! but so it was. This was indeed a heart-blow; and, shortly after, his beloved daughter, Anna Backhouse, followed him to the grave. It was an entire breaking-up of the much and long-loved circle at Earlham. Mrs. Opie attended the funeral of her friend. She saw him laid low in the midst of his usefulness; cut down while there was, as yet, no shadow o’er his path to tell of coming night. Honoured and beloved he was, and a blessing to thousands. Doubtless in her heart she said, “would God I had died for thee!” but she remembered her favourite text, “shall not the judge of all the earth do right;” and bowed, and worshipped in silence and submission.

There is no dwelling on these things. Each one, as he passes along on the road of life, experiences like sorrows, and learns from his own trials to realize the feelings of his fellow sufferers.

The following note, written shortly after this event, shews her state of mind.

Norwich, 1st mo., 29th, 1847.My dear C. L.,* * * * Thanks for thy kind inquiries, and still more for thy graphic description of the Cambridge show; it made me long to have been there! thy account of the behaviour of the students carried me back to 1810, when I was at Oxford, at Lord Grenville’s installation, and was excessively amused by the thundering and hissing of the students for some time; but the third day I grew tired of the noise. The Proctorstherewere treated, one excepted, with great indignity. How I did rejoice in the first wrangler’s success; when I found he was a boy of obscure birth, educated by a benevolent individual on whom he had no claims, and that he had been enabled to repay his benefactor!The dear Bishop came yesterday afternoon, and was so kind and sympathizing! Icouldsee him, for I was in my drawing-room again. My doctors are just gone. I hope I am improving, and expect to be allowed to get out next week to see my aunt; but I shall be slow in returning my calls, and slower still in paying any visits. I do sodreadthe convincing myself, when I go out, that there is one whom if I look for him, I shall never,neverfind! But no more of that, I can’t bear it.Believe me, thy ever attached friend,A. Opie.

Norwich, 1st mo., 29th, 1847.

My dear C. L.,

* * * * Thanks for thy kind inquiries, and still more for thy graphic description of the Cambridge show; it made me long to have been there! thy account of the behaviour of the students carried me back to 1810, when I was at Oxford, at Lord Grenville’s installation, and was excessively amused by the thundering and hissing of the students for some time; but the third day I grew tired of the noise. The Proctorstherewere treated, one excepted, with great indignity. How I did rejoice in the first wrangler’s success; when I found he was a boy of obscure birth, educated by a benevolent individual on whom he had no claims, and that he had been enabled to repay his benefactor!

The dear Bishop came yesterday afternoon, and was so kind and sympathizing! Icouldsee him, for I was in my drawing-room again. My doctors are just gone. I hope I am improving, and expect to be allowed to get out next week to see my aunt; but I shall be slow in returning my calls, and slower still in paying any visits. I do sodreadthe convincing myself, when I go out, that there is one whom if I look for him, I shall never,neverfind! But no more of that, I can’t bear it.

Believe me, thy ever attached friend,

A. Opie.

Her grief did not, however, prevent her taking an active interest in the sorrows and sufferings of others. She was engaged in collecting for the relief of the poor Irish, and says:—

Oh! the horrible state of things in that country; without our aid they say the poor people must perish! I am collecting for the Ladies’ Committee at Dunmanaway, near Cork; a very distressed district, but small and with few rich residents in it, therefore the more needing help. I let no day pass without having, in the course of it, begged of some one. I take sixpence or a shilling with thanks; and I have accepted twopence from a little boy, who sent it to me because he knew what it was to be hungry himself. I have a humble agent at work to procure small sums, as my Irish ladies advise; and have a little money still in hand, which I hope to make more. We shall one day perhaps know scenes here like those in Ireland, and trials whichwealthcannot help us to avoid or remove, but “shall not the judge of all the earth do right?”

In the spring of this year Mrs. Opie paid her usual visit to Cromer. While there, the tidings of Dr. Chalmers’ death reached her. She wrote home requesting to have the lines she had addressed to him in 1833 sent to her; and acknowledged the receipt of them in the following letter:—

TO MRS. BRIGHTWELL.Cromer, 6th mo., 5th, 1847.My dear Friend,* * * I do not exactly know to whom I was indebted for the great kindness of copying for me my lines to poor dear Dr. Chalmers,[45]but perhaps the same pen (it was thine I think) would do me the same favour again. I am very desirous of having them, though ashamed of troubling thee.Poor dear man! on his way home to Edinburgh he could not be easy without going to Darlington, to see dear J. J. Gurney’s daughter once more. In his letter to me he said that he hoped one day “to see himbefore the throne,” or words to that effect; how soon (as I trust) the hope has been fulfilled.I am here in such a lovely lodging! my sitting-room has a bay-window that looksonthe sea andupthe shore and on the jetty and the breakwater. I am at Randall’s bath house, and the hot bath is delightful indeed! I think I am better, in spite of visitors. I have had eleven callers already, since ten o’clock!When I came, the sea was beautiful! yesterday it was awful to look at! the white horses, the cavalry of the sea, were all out yesterday. Alas! their appearance was signalized by death; a boat was capsized, and a poor old man drowned, in sight almost of my window. At twilight I looked on the sea, which appeared terribly sublime! The hue grew darker and darker, as the mass of waters seemed slopingupwardsas they went, till they looked like a dark mountain bounding forth to engulph us—and I retreated almost in fear. I hope this evening to see the sun set from the western cliff. How beautiful, in my eyes, were the hedges as I came! such a profusion of germander, bright red bachelor’s buttons, the golden furze, and broom, in luxuriant blossom, and the may, only too much laden with flowers; Farewell; with love to thy spouse and bairn,Thy attached friend,A. Opie.

TO MRS. BRIGHTWELL.

Cromer, 6th mo., 5th, 1847.

My dear Friend,

* * * I do not exactly know to whom I was indebted for the great kindness of copying for me my lines to poor dear Dr. Chalmers,[45]but perhaps the same pen (it was thine I think) would do me the same favour again. I am very desirous of having them, though ashamed of troubling thee.

Poor dear man! on his way home to Edinburgh he could not be easy without going to Darlington, to see dear J. J. Gurney’s daughter once more. In his letter to me he said that he hoped one day “to see himbefore the throne,” or words to that effect; how soon (as I trust) the hope has been fulfilled.

I am here in such a lovely lodging! my sitting-room has a bay-window that looksonthe sea andupthe shore and on the jetty and the breakwater. I am at Randall’s bath house, and the hot bath is delightful indeed! I think I am better, in spite of visitors. I have had eleven callers already, since ten o’clock!

When I came, the sea was beautiful! yesterday it was awful to look at! the white horses, the cavalry of the sea, were all out yesterday. Alas! their appearance was signalized by death; a boat was capsized, and a poor old man drowned, in sight almost of my window. At twilight I looked on the sea, which appeared terribly sublime! The hue grew darker and darker, as the mass of waters seemed slopingupwardsas they went, till they looked like a dark mountain bounding forth to engulph us—and I retreated almost in fear. I hope this evening to see the sun set from the western cliff. How beautiful, in my eyes, were the hedges as I came! such a profusion of germander, bright red bachelor’s buttons, the golden furze, and broom, in luxuriant blossom, and the may, only too much laden with flowers; Farewell; with love to thy spouse and bairn,

Thy attached friend,

A. Opie.

Mrs. Opie returned from Cromer in the middle of June; in her notes we find the following entries:—

I am come home, not the better for the sea and baths, thoughmuchso in mind and feelings for the great attentions and kindnesses I received. A lame old woman is, however, best at home. Poor dear Dr. Chalmers! he passed four or five as happy days as hecouldpass there, with the daughter of J. J. G.; he would not rest without going, and was so charming! he died two days after. He left Darlington well, but went home as it proved—to die! He was every day, when there, going to write to me, and I was just about to write to him, from Cromer, when he died. (6th mo., 18th.) In the year 1809 I began to write lines to Mrs. Lemaistre, on her birthday, and ever since, from 1809 to the fifth of this month, 1847, I have never omitted writing the accustomed verses. I wonder whether any king’s laureat ever wrote so many to one potentate; perhaps Colley Cibber did to George III. (19th.) I have been reading the life of Sarah Martin; it made me shed many tears, from the sense of her superior virtue, and my own inferiority. What an example she was, and how illustrative her life, of what that of a humble, but real, and confiding Christian should be! and her end was one of intense bodily suffering! as Pope says of some one:—“Heav’n, as its purest gold, by torture tried—The saint sustain’d it, but thewomandied!”W. Allan’s admirable Life I have read quite through, with delight, and, I hope, instruction.

“Heav’n, as its purest gold, by torture tried—The saint sustain’d it, but thewomandied!”

“Heav’n, as its purest gold, by torture tried—

The saint sustain’d it, but thewomandied!”

W. Allan’s admirable Life I have read quite through, with delight, and, I hope, instruction.

Mrs. Opie visited her friends at Brooke in the following month, and writing shortly after to Miss Gurney, she says:—

* * * I received, before I went to Brooke, a very valuable present from Lord Brougham, which he had ordered to be sent two months ago, and I expected. It arrived at last, and is a folio volume, two nails thick, containing the evidence before the select committee of the House of Lords, appointed to inquire into the execution of the criminal law, especially respecting juvenile offenders and transportation. It interests me, and I daresay I shall read it through. When I came home I found a very interesting letter from Lord B.—that letter I am answering to-day. I am glad he has renewed correspondence with me; he often wrote during last autumn, and he is one of the pleasantest recollections of my early days, when I was first in London society.My head is full of this horrible,mosthorrible of murders, at Paris! I am glad I do not know the parties concerned. I earnestly hope that if he must die, he will be allowed no privileges on account of his rank; the people would not bear it! and the Most High “is no respecter of persons.” We purse-proud English are a sadly aristocratic nation, and want humbling. * * * If my aunt’s health allow, I intend to go to the Birkbecks’ ere long for a few days, but yesterday I conceived an alarm concerning her, poor dear, and I must talk to her medical man on the subject.

My head is full of this horrible,mosthorrible of murders, at Paris! I am glad I do not know the parties concerned. I earnestly hope that if he must die, he will be allowed no privileges on account of his rank; the people would not bear it! and the Most High “is no respecter of persons.” We purse-proud English are a sadly aristocratic nation, and want humbling. * * * If my aunt’s health allow, I intend to go to the Birkbecks’ ere long for a few days, but yesterday I conceived an alarm concerning her, poor dear, and I must talk to her medical man on the subject.

This alarm proved to be well grounded. Mrs. E. Alderson sank gradually, and at length expired on the 10th of January, 1848. Mrs. Opie says:—

When I looked upon my dear aunt, just after I had closed her eyes, she was, to me, the image, almost, of my father.

The time was now come, when Mrs. Opie was able to carry into effect an intention she had long entertained. She felt very desirous to have a house of her own; it had become, indeed, necessary to her comfort; and, after long consideration, at length she fixed upon the house on Castle Meadow, which she inhabited during the remainder of her life. Before removing, or rather preparatory to doing so, she went up to London, to spend some months there, according to her old usage. Four years had elapsed since she visited the Metropolis, and the present occasion proved one of much enjoyment. She bade adieu to Lady’s Lane on the 6th of April, and journeyed to town, availing herself there of the cordial invitations given her by her friends in Russell Square and Langham Place. Much occurred, during her stay, to interest and cheer her, of which she wrote accounts to her friends at home. She made short excursions to Hampstead, Hornsey, Wandsworth, and Tottenham, and went to hear the speeches at Harrow. She also attended all the Friends’ Meetings, and was present as well at the Missionary and Bible Meetings, in all which she took a lively interest. Her letters shew that she still retained much of her wonted energy, and interested herself in the stirring events going on around her. In one of them she refers, very characteristically, to the alarm excited by the threatened outbreak of the Chartists—

Iwouldcome home (she says) from Wandsworth on the Sabbath day night, because I could not bear the anxiety I should feel while being six miles from the scene of action on the Monday. How agreeably disappointed every one was who was not disaffected! Nothing ever was better managed: and I hear that the Duke of Wellington was so delighted because all was effected without a single soldier’s having been seen! but great was the alarm, particularly of the Ministers. It is now clear that the respectable middle classes arenotwith the ultra chartists. It was an interesting sight to see noblemen and their sons, artizans, and men of all grades in society, sworn in as special constables, and patrolling the streets.

The following letter is selected from among others, written at this time, as being of most general interest:—

TO THOMAS BRIGHTWELL.Russell Square, 5th mo., 22nd, 1848.My dear Friend,I have been intending to write to thee for some time past, but was prevented. My career has been a very pleasant one, spite of occasionallygreatlameness; but though I always limp, I am not always in pain; and I find it possible to bear, with patience, the ill which can’t, I fear, be ever cured.I will, as briefly as possible, give thee a sketch of my goings on; a dinner at Lord Denman’s was my pleasantest; I met Lady C. L., Lord N.’s daughter, a dear old friend of mine; Mr. Justice Earle, the new judge; and Mr. Warren, the author of “Ten Thousand a Year.” These gentlemen and my host talkedacross the tableand most pleasant were the dinner hours, as well as those which succeeded. * * * More of this when we meet, if I am permitted to return in health and safety. The next prosperity, was, my going to a private view at the Society of Arts and Sciences, in theAdelphi, where Barry’s pictures were lighted up, and the rooms opened to receive so many andno more; that is, twenty noble Ladies got leave to have so many tickets each, to give, in order that the wonderful and beautiful specimens of new English arts and manufactures, might be seen and known, to those able and willing to purchase; and it was to be, that unusual thing, an evening private view, beginning at ten o’clock. My kind friend, Lady C. B., gave me a ticket, and afterhoursat the Bible Meeting, and a dinner at Baron Alderson’s, I went to the place of rendezvous; I was the first person there, so I could survey all the lovely things, and exquisite pictures, long and well known to me, before any one came: but the room filled at length, and the Bishop of Norwich told me he never saw more of the nobility assembled. I saw many old acquaintances and made many new * * *Once, as I was walking round the room, the Duchess of S., leaning on a gentleman’s arm, curtsied to me, (for the first time in her life,) with a most sweet smile. I acknowledged her curtsey, regardless of the gentleman with her, and, indeed, not seeing him; but he said, “what! do you not choose to see and acknowledge an old friend?” I started, and beheld Lord Morpeth! Surprized, and thrown off my guard, I exclaimed, “Oh!dearLord Morpeth! how glad I am to see thee!” eagerly accepting his proffered hand. “Then you have not forgotten old times?” * * * I then told him I had heard him speak in the morning, and we talked of the meeting, as very interesting: “but,” I said, “I thought it was ratherventuresome, if I may so say, to allude so much to the state of affairs in France.” He gave me a look I did not quite understand, but replied, “perhaps there was somewhat too much of that;” and I was told by the Bishop of Winchester, (with whom I dined the next day) that Lord M. in his speech, hadgiven the toneto the other speeches; but Lord M.’s speech was not such, as to have drawn forth what I disapproved,—the speeches of La Harpe, and others; however, everything was approved by the meeting, and the French goings-ondelightedin, as leading to an increased spread of the Bible! We then talked a little more, and parted. Lord M. insisting on it, that I used to be at Milcham School with Mathews, the great ventriloquist, and I saying, “no, no, I disown Mathews entirely!” Long have I wished to renew acquaintance with thisgoodman, and at last I have, under pleasant circumstances. At the B. and F. School Meeting, where he was chairman, I sat nearly under the chair, and had a most kind bow from him, which I as cordially returned.Last sixth day (yesterday week) I dined at Sir J. Boileau’s, and met Guizot, the American Ambassador, and our Bishop. After dinner, we all went to the Royal Institution, to hear a Lecture on the Greek Anthology, by a Mr. Newton, and I had the pleasure of taking the Bishop with me, in my carriage.Lady C. B. and I sat on a form near the lecturer; in front of him was another chair, for the President, the Duke of Northumberland; and on a chair, placed on hisrighthand, was Guizot; on his left the American Ambassador—par conséquent, we conceived this was meant as a compliment to Guizot, who seems much noticed. The private view of the Exhibition I rejoiced in, till the people came, (but I believe I wrote an account of all this to Lucy,) Sir R. Inglis followed up his kindness to me there, by calling; and Lady Gurney, myself, and Russell, were there this day week; a most pleasant evening to me, for I met old friends, and among them, the British Minister, Morier, and his family, whom I first knew at Paris, as Consul-General, and afterwards, as our Envoy atBerne.Now, to finish with my visit at Claremont. The ex-Queen fixed the day and hour, by Madame de Montjoye, her Lady; I hired a clarence and two horses, and borrowed J. Bell’s servant; and, in a broiling day, set off on my fifteen miles’ journey! Madame de M. came to mefirst, and said the Queen would soon come to me; she did, and I cannot express my feeling, when I thought of the change in her position since we met! I could scarcely speak, while she pressed my hands most affectionately, and called me “ma chère, bonne Opie, que vous êtes bonne, de venir me voir!” at last, she sat, and desired I would do the same. Madame de M., had previously told me they had heard of the Duchess of Orléans that day, and that she was in Germany. I can’tnowtell you all the conversation. The first question was, “I hope you are writing? you know I read and like all you write.” I replied that I didnotwrite, and so on. * * * After half an hour, she rose, and said she was very sorry to go, but she must, because she had letters to write, which were to go to Paris that morning; again she took my hands and pressed them to her heart; I not being able to speak, from rising tears. At length I got out, that “les paroles me manquoient et que je ne pouvais pas exprimer les sentiments que j’eprouvois;” and I almost wished to kiss, as well as press the hand I held; as she disappeared, she said, “souvenez vous, et ecrivez encore, ecrivez toujours!” Madame de Montjoye gave me her arm, to the other room, and we parted most cordially. * * *Thy attached friend,A. Opie.

TO THOMAS BRIGHTWELL.

Russell Square, 5th mo., 22nd, 1848.

My dear Friend,

I have been intending to write to thee for some time past, but was prevented. My career has been a very pleasant one, spite of occasionallygreatlameness; but though I always limp, I am not always in pain; and I find it possible to bear, with patience, the ill which can’t, I fear, be ever cured.

I will, as briefly as possible, give thee a sketch of my goings on; a dinner at Lord Denman’s was my pleasantest; I met Lady C. L., Lord N.’s daughter, a dear old friend of mine; Mr. Justice Earle, the new judge; and Mr. Warren, the author of “Ten Thousand a Year.” These gentlemen and my host talkedacross the tableand most pleasant were the dinner hours, as well as those which succeeded. * * * More of this when we meet, if I am permitted to return in health and safety. The next prosperity, was, my going to a private view at the Society of Arts and Sciences, in theAdelphi, where Barry’s pictures were lighted up, and the rooms opened to receive so many andno more; that is, twenty noble Ladies got leave to have so many tickets each, to give, in order that the wonderful and beautiful specimens of new English arts and manufactures, might be seen and known, to those able and willing to purchase; and it was to be, that unusual thing, an evening private view, beginning at ten o’clock. My kind friend, Lady C. B., gave me a ticket, and afterhoursat the Bible Meeting, and a dinner at Baron Alderson’s, I went to the place of rendezvous; I was the first person there, so I could survey all the lovely things, and exquisite pictures, long and well known to me, before any one came: but the room filled at length, and the Bishop of Norwich told me he never saw more of the nobility assembled. I saw many old acquaintances and made many new * * *

Once, as I was walking round the room, the Duchess of S., leaning on a gentleman’s arm, curtsied to me, (for the first time in her life,) with a most sweet smile. I acknowledged her curtsey, regardless of the gentleman with her, and, indeed, not seeing him; but he said, “what! do you not choose to see and acknowledge an old friend?” I started, and beheld Lord Morpeth! Surprized, and thrown off my guard, I exclaimed, “Oh!dearLord Morpeth! how glad I am to see thee!” eagerly accepting his proffered hand. “Then you have not forgotten old times?” * * * I then told him I had heard him speak in the morning, and we talked of the meeting, as very interesting: “but,” I said, “I thought it was ratherventuresome, if I may so say, to allude so much to the state of affairs in France.” He gave me a look I did not quite understand, but replied, “perhaps there was somewhat too much of that;” and I was told by the Bishop of Winchester, (with whom I dined the next day) that Lord M. in his speech, hadgiven the toneto the other speeches; but Lord M.’s speech was not such, as to have drawn forth what I disapproved,—the speeches of La Harpe, and others; however, everything was approved by the meeting, and the French goings-ondelightedin, as leading to an increased spread of the Bible! We then talked a little more, and parted. Lord M. insisting on it, that I used to be at Milcham School with Mathews, the great ventriloquist, and I saying, “no, no, I disown Mathews entirely!” Long have I wished to renew acquaintance with thisgoodman, and at last I have, under pleasant circumstances. At the B. and F. School Meeting, where he was chairman, I sat nearly under the chair, and had a most kind bow from him, which I as cordially returned.

Last sixth day (yesterday week) I dined at Sir J. Boileau’s, and met Guizot, the American Ambassador, and our Bishop. After dinner, we all went to the Royal Institution, to hear a Lecture on the Greek Anthology, by a Mr. Newton, and I had the pleasure of taking the Bishop with me, in my carriage.

Lady C. B. and I sat on a form near the lecturer; in front of him was another chair, for the President, the Duke of Northumberland; and on a chair, placed on hisrighthand, was Guizot; on his left the American Ambassador—par conséquent, we conceived this was meant as a compliment to Guizot, who seems much noticed. The private view of the Exhibition I rejoiced in, till the people came, (but I believe I wrote an account of all this to Lucy,) Sir R. Inglis followed up his kindness to me there, by calling; and Lady Gurney, myself, and Russell, were there this day week; a most pleasant evening to me, for I met old friends, and among them, the British Minister, Morier, and his family, whom I first knew at Paris, as Consul-General, and afterwards, as our Envoy atBerne.

Now, to finish with my visit at Claremont. The ex-Queen fixed the day and hour, by Madame de Montjoye, her Lady; I hired a clarence and two horses, and borrowed J. Bell’s servant; and, in a broiling day, set off on my fifteen miles’ journey! Madame de M. came to mefirst, and said the Queen would soon come to me; she did, and I cannot express my feeling, when I thought of the change in her position since we met! I could scarcely speak, while she pressed my hands most affectionately, and called me “ma chère, bonne Opie, que vous êtes bonne, de venir me voir!” at last, she sat, and desired I would do the same. Madame de M., had previously told me they had heard of the Duchess of Orléans that day, and that she was in Germany. I can’tnowtell you all the conversation. The first question was, “I hope you are writing? you know I read and like all you write.” I replied that I didnotwrite, and so on. * * * After half an hour, she rose, and said she was very sorry to go, but she must, because she had letters to write, which were to go to Paris that morning; again she took my hands and pressed them to her heart; I not being able to speak, from rising tears. At length I got out, that “les paroles me manquoient et que je ne pouvais pas exprimer les sentiments que j’eprouvois;” and I almost wished to kiss, as well as press the hand I held; as she disappeared, she said, “souvenez vous, et ecrivez encore, ecrivez toujours!” Madame de Montjoye gave me her arm, to the other room, and we parted most cordially. * * *

Thy attached friend,

A. Opie.

Mrs. Opie’s stay in London was cut short by her increasing indisposition. She had prepared to go on a visit to Mr. S. Gurney, when (on the 7th July) she had a severe access of her disorder, and Sir Benjamin Brodie recommending rest and quiet, after a week’s nursing, she returned to Norwich.

[44]

She patronized the old custom of sending valentines, (which is much kept up in Norwich,) and on one occasion, wrote some droll verses, which she got copied and sent to some young friends, who, presently after, hastened with their puzzlingbillet-douxto her, that she might help them to guess who could possibly have sent them! She did so enjoy the fun of mystifying them with her guesses!

[45]

The lines alluded to in this letter are given in chapterXX. Mrs. O. had forgotten that she had written them until reminded of them by her friend.

THE CASTLE MEADOW HOUSE; INDISPOSITION; INCREASE OF CRIME; RUSH’S TRIAL; SUMMER ASSIZES OF 1849; DEATH OF BISHOP STANLEY; SUMMER AND AUTUMN OF 1850; FAREWELL VISIT TO LONDON; THE GREAT EXHIBITION; SUMMER OF 1852; RHEUMATIC GOUT; NOTES; LAST VISIT TO CROMER; THE SPRING AND SUMMER OF 1853; SUDDEN ILLNESS, OCTOBER 23RD; PATIENCE AND CHEERFULNESS; INCREASING SICKNESS; LEAVE TAKING; DEATH.

Returning from London on the 14th of July, 1848, Mrs. Opie took possession of her new house, on the Castle Meadow. She looked back with pleasure upon the time she had passed in town, and said, “never indeed, did I have a more gratifying reception, than I met with from all my friends, of different ranks, this time of my being there.” Fortunately her choice of an abode proved satisfactory, she thoroughly liked it from the first, and conceived the happy idea that Dr. Alderson would have been pleased with it, “for (she said) he would have enjoyed this lively scene, and he often wished to have a house in this locality.” When she had become quite settled in it, she wrote:—

* * * * I am every day more charmed with my new house and home. I feel it a very desirable house to die in, that is to be ill in; a “pleasant cradle for reposing age;” and I do so love to look at my noble trees and my castle turrets rising above them; and when the leaves fall off, I shall still have the pleasure of seeing the green and grassy mound of the Castle. From one of my drawing room windows I see the woods and rising grounds of Thorpe. I neither hear nor see the cattle on market days, and I am quite happy in my choice, and deeply thankful that “the lines have fallen to me in pleasant places.” Indeed I have nodésagrémensat all, that I am conscious of, in my new abode.

In the month of October, Mrs. Opie made a short stay at Lowestoft; but the fatigue brought on a return of her malady, and in one of her notes she says:—

I came from Lowestoft apparently well, but soon became ill, and was obliged to send for Dr. Hull, who was, at first, alarmed at my symptoms; but I was not, as he kept his fears to himself. My sufferings were great indeed, and I never was so conscious of his judgment, as while observing the truly efficacious manner in which he treated me. I rallied directly, and was able, with his leave, to go to Sir J. Boileau’s to stay two days and nights. I was charmed with M. Guizot, who was one of the guests; his manners are very simple, and he played at “jeux de societé” with usyoungpeople, at night, and enjoyed it as much as we did! It is, indeed, a great favour to be permitted to enjoy life still, so much as I do, in company; but it is a far greater one to be able to enjoy equally my lonely hours. * * * How fearful is the state of things on the Continent, and who knows what the result will be? but I read the 46th psalm, and remember who reigneth, and I trust in Him, and am at peace.

At Michaelmas, of this year, Mrs. J. J. Gurney left Earlham Hall for the Grove, and before she removed, Mrs. Opie went over to take a last look at the place which was endeared to her by the recollections of so many bygone years. During the two years longer that Mrs. Gurney remained in England, Mrs. Opie had the comfort of her society, and it was with sorrow that she bade her farewell when she departed for America, in the summer of 1850.

A note, written shortly after this time, refers to the fearful crimes which were committed during that autumn. She says:—

I heard, at thatblessedCity Mission meeting, which I attended the other evening, that our county is reckoned one of the worst for crime and ignorance. Now comes that murder, by wholesale, at Stanfield, and every week I read of two or three murders. Still, as Dean Swift sarcastically wrote,“And hell, to be sure, is at Paris or Rome,What a blessing for us, that it is not at home.”France and Ireland do not, I think, much suffer in comparison with us. Truly, we English improve rapidly in virtue!

“And hell, to be sure, is at Paris or Rome,What a blessing for us, that it is not at home.”

“And hell, to be sure, is at Paris or Rome,

What a blessing for us, that it is not at home.”

France and Ireland do not, I think, much suffer in comparison with us. Truly, we English improve rapidly in virtue!

Mrs. Opie, latterly, took a somewhat morbid view of the existing state of things, supposing that instead of improving they became worse. She read the daily papers, in which the same crime is repeatedly brought to notice, week after week; and became possessed with the idea that murders and horrors were multiplied in proportion to the publicity given them. In the month of March she went to visit Miss Gurney, and returned from Northrepps on the morning of the Lent assizes, when Rush’s trial came on. She did not attend on that occasion, adhering to her constant determination, never to be present in the Criminal Court in a capital case. But in one of her notes she gives a lively picture of her feelings while the trial was going on:—

I know not what to do to-day except look at the castle and watch the crowds on the plain, and the people continually passing, few walking, but most running, as if too much excited to do otherwise. Rush is on his defence! * * I dread to hear the verdict, and yet I wish all was over. (The evening of the second day.) On my castle turrets, to the west, the sun set gloriously this evening, converting it into a mass of red granite; and while I write the moon is shining into my room, “looking tranquillity.” But what is passing within those castle walls? A man, fierce as a tiger, is struggling for life at the awful bar of justice. * * * *What hundreds are passing to and fro; and what various sounds I hear! now children and boys laughing and shouting; then men, congregated under my windows, and talking: but always, within those walls,Isee that wretched man, writhing in mental agony, and against what, I fancy, he nowbelievesinevitable doom!

What hundreds are passing to and fro; and what various sounds I hear! now children and boys laughing and shouting; then men, congregated under my windows, and talking: but always, within those walls,Isee that wretched man, writhing in mental agony, and against what, I fancy, he nowbelievesinevitable doom!

In the Summer Assize Mrs. Opie was in her usual place in court, and with how much lively interest she watched the proceedings, is evident in the following letter:—

Castle Meadow, 8th mo., 4th, 1849.Well C. L. how art thou? * * * * and so thou hast trodden where Robin Hood did! He was one of my heroes when I was young; and at sixteen, when driving through Sherwood Forest, I insisted on getting out, to walk through it, and tread where he and his merry men had trodden. Thy papa has been very kind to me; he gave me his arm, and saw me safe home, when I walked, two evenings together, from the Shirehall, where I, the poor, limping invalid, (noappropriatename that,) was, from nine to six, on the sixth day, and from nine to nine the following day; that is, twelve hours on Saturday, and without refreshment of any kind save two gingerbread cakes; but I wanted nothing, so completely did mind conquer matter. It wasonecause only which lasted from twelve on Friday, to six that evening, and the next day from nine to nine; and so interesting it was to me, my attention never flagged a minute, and when I got home I was quite as able and bright as when I went into court. It was Lord W. Poulett’s action against our Railway Company for damage done to his property and his tenants’, by the fire emitted from the train. I never saw a clearer case proved. I had no bias either way; if I had any leaning it was to the Norwich persons, the defendants; but I felt sure the verdict was a just one. It was for the plaintiff. The fire may be kept in, but they must take more trouble and go to more expense; and I believe this action will save property if notlives. Byles spoke admirably, and the judge was excellent also. I assure thee this calling up of all my energies has done me great good. Except in my lameness, I am as well as ever I was in my life; and at the Palace, the other evening, (last Wednesday,) I walked across that room, and to my fly, hold of Arthur Stanley, and did not limp. I heard thy father’s voice last evening, but did not see him; for I was just getting into bed at nine o’clock: but the last time I saw him, he walked off, at half-past ten o’clock, from my house, with a pretty young lady hanging on either arm, to their hotel. I was at Paris when the sister of these ladies was married, and was present at the wedding, and a pleasant sight it was. The marriage took place at the ambassador’s chapel, and the bride and her husband were a sight to see, as they knelt before Bishop Luscombe, picturesque from his fine face and large sleeves!It is, to my feelings, so cold a day, that I am sitting by a large fire in my smaller drawing room * * * * There, my letter is longer than thine, and I have written four besides this, so hasten to conclude.Thine faithfully and affectionately,A. Opie.

Castle Meadow, 8th mo., 4th, 1849.

Well C. L. how art thou? * * * * and so thou hast trodden where Robin Hood did! He was one of my heroes when I was young; and at sixteen, when driving through Sherwood Forest, I insisted on getting out, to walk through it, and tread where he and his merry men had trodden. Thy papa has been very kind to me; he gave me his arm, and saw me safe home, when I walked, two evenings together, from the Shirehall, where I, the poor, limping invalid, (noappropriatename that,) was, from nine to six, on the sixth day, and from nine to nine the following day; that is, twelve hours on Saturday, and without refreshment of any kind save two gingerbread cakes; but I wanted nothing, so completely did mind conquer matter. It wasonecause only which lasted from twelve on Friday, to six that evening, and the next day from nine to nine; and so interesting it was to me, my attention never flagged a minute, and when I got home I was quite as able and bright as when I went into court. It was Lord W. Poulett’s action against our Railway Company for damage done to his property and his tenants’, by the fire emitted from the train. I never saw a clearer case proved. I had no bias either way; if I had any leaning it was to the Norwich persons, the defendants; but I felt sure the verdict was a just one. It was for the plaintiff. The fire may be kept in, but they must take more trouble and go to more expense; and I believe this action will save property if notlives. Byles spoke admirably, and the judge was excellent also. I assure thee this calling up of all my energies has done me great good. Except in my lameness, I am as well as ever I was in my life; and at the Palace, the other evening, (last Wednesday,) I walked across that room, and to my fly, hold of Arthur Stanley, and did not limp. I heard thy father’s voice last evening, but did not see him; for I was just getting into bed at nine o’clock: but the last time I saw him, he walked off, at half-past ten o’clock, from my house, with a pretty young lady hanging on either arm, to their hotel. I was at Paris when the sister of these ladies was married, and was present at the wedding, and a pleasant sight it was. The marriage took place at the ambassador’s chapel, and the bride and her husband were a sight to see, as they knelt before Bishop Luscombe, picturesque from his fine face and large sleeves!

It is, to my feelings, so cold a day, that I am sitting by a large fire in my smaller drawing room * * * * There, my letter is longer than thine, and I have written four besides this, so hasten to conclude.

Thine faithfully and affectionately,

A. Opie.

In August Mrs. Opie spent a week in Cambridgeshire, visiting some kind friends at Melbourne-Bury, and returning home shortly before the lamented death of Bishop Stanley. This was a grief which, (as she herself expressed it,) cast a shadow over the remainder of her days, and to which she could never refer without deep emotion. How many hearts grieved when the solemn sound of the bell announced to the inhabitants of the city this melancholy event! Every one felt that it told of a general loss, and that a good and holy man had been taken from amongst them. And when, in compliance with the wish of the honoured and beloved prelate, his remains were brought to rest in that cathedral where his voice had so often been heard, there was a mournful satisfaction in the conviction that his heart had loved the people for whom he had laboured, with an unfailing charity, and with a ceaseless zeal.

Several references are made in Mrs. Opie’s notes to this event. At the time it happened she was surrounded by a large circle of her relatives, and while they remained with her she said—“I was taken from myself; but now regret is uppermost again. How I feel for the dear bereaved ones!” Again she says:—

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