LETTERS OF MRS. OPIE TO DR. ALDERSON, WRITTEN DURING HER VISIT
IN LONDON IN THE YEAR 1814.
“In 1814, the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, and other royal
and distinguished foreigners were, as everybody knows, in London,” says
Mrs. Opie, in one of her reminiscences of the scenes she witnessed at
that stirring time; for she was there, in the very midst of all the
gaiety and whirl. Many of the letters she wrote home to her father,
during her three months’ stay in London at this time, have been
preserved, and we give them almost entire.
11, Orchard Street, Portman Square,
21st May, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
You would be sure that, so tempted, I should go to Hudson
Gurney’s, and I did. The company consisted of Lady Nelson, Mrs.
Forbes, her daughter, Lady James Hay, Armine and Edmund
Wodehouse, M. Bland, Mr. Maltby, his wife’s nephew, just
returned from the army, Mr. Hume, of the India House, Dr.
Southey, and Frank Morse: I was so fortunate as to sit between
the two Wodehouses. I must tell you a _bon mot_ of Dudley
North’s which was told me. “Sheridan, (said Dudley N.) I hear
you are coming forward for Westminster again.” “Pho! replied he,
if I were, I am sure I must be _wound up_ again.” “And if you
were wound up (returned D. N.) you would go on as usual,
tick-tick-tick.”
The Prince has sunk himself in the mud, with all parties, by his
endeavour to get to himself the exclusive privilege of inviting
all the royalties, that he might exclude his wife, the Princess
of Gloucester, and the Dukes of Sussex, Kent, and Gloucester.
Lord Seyton had sent to give tickets to the Princess, and on
being pressed by Lord Yarmouth to recall them, he replied,
“Yarmouth, go and tell the Prince Regent that I am no dancer,
but that if the Princess of Wales will do me the honour of
dancing with me, I will open the ball with her.” This, Lord
Montford told me, as a fact, on Thursday evening. At Boodle’s,
on the Prince’s applying for the same privilege as at White’s,
they voted three to one against him. Lord M. added, that if, as
she is likely to do, goaded as she is, (silly woman!) she goes
to White’s, and is refused admission, it is probable that the
populace may take her part, and endanger the house. For my part,
I see no necessary difference between the conduct proper for a
royal wife and a wife in a private station; and as a public
brawl between an angry wife and a brutal husband would excite
just indignation in private life, I cannot do otherwise than
consider the Princess as violating her duty, however great her
wrongs, by exposing herself to insult, and her husband also, by
persisting to do what is disagreeable to him; let her take care
to fulfil her _own_ duties, and she will meet what she deserves,
the respect and pity of every one. But I believe her to be a
weak vixen, or at least that she loves to teaze the Prince.
Next day, in the evening, the L. M.s came and took me to the
Hamiltons’ ball. We went late, and found the rooms so crowded,
that we took our station on the stairs, where Lady Montford
joined us, and talking occasionally to Edward, Tom, Lord M., and
two or three other men, we made ourselves amusement, till we
thought Mrs. H. thought us acting fine, so then we entered the
hot room, where we staid till the carriage got up, and then came
away, though the H.s said they would not forgive us if we did
not stay to supper; but I was more fit to be in bed, having
then, and _now_, a crying cold, that is most trying, and makes
me look like an owl. Yesterday I went out with Mrs. Gurney and
left some cards. In the evening I went to Miss White’s, (having
dined at home on eggs and coffee) where I found some rank,
talent, and odd looking notoriety and ability. Lady Mackintosh
asked me to dine there on Monday, and Mrs. Philips, to a party,
on Wednesday; but business and duty take me to Mitcham on Monday
for two or three days. Just as Lady M. turned away from me, a
young man who had been talking to her said to me, “that odd
looking man yonder is a distinguished character; that is Mr.
Gallatin, the American commissioner.” “So Lady Mackintosh told
me.” “I told you,” he replied, “because we all like to have
lions pointed out; I shall do _him_ the same kindness, for I
shall point you out to him.” “You are very obliging,” said I,
making him a low curtsey, and thinking I had never seen anything
so impudent since the days of Mr. Hirst, and wondering who he
could be. “For my own part,” continued he, “I am remarkable for
being, what you may think is not very remarkable in this great
city, namely, a very impudent fellow, in thus introducing myself
to you.” I laughed, but would not ask his name of himself. I
asked it of Lady M., and found him to be a Mr. Cullen, son of
Dr. Cullen. Farewell! till Wednesday, and pray write and let me
know all about you.
A. Opie.
Mitcham, 25th May, 1814
MY DEAR FATHER,
I wonder much I have not yet heard from you; it is now ten days
since I heard of or from home!
On Sunday C. breakfasted with me, and we went to Bedford Chapel
to hear S. Smith preach; Mrs. H. C. saw us in the aisle, and
took us into her pew. We had an excellent sermon, but, _entre
nous_, I saw C. nearly asleep several times. She said she liked
the sermon exceedingly, but I am sure she did not hear some fine
parts. (There’s Ella Roberts taking off a little dog howling or
barking, so like _nature_ that I have been calling her a little
howling puppy; the noise a dog makes when his toe is trodden
upon is most admirable. * * * * She has now exhausted herself so
much with the fatigues of her canine madness, as she calls it,
that she is quiet, and I stand a chance of finishing my letter
in peace.)
My _levée_ on Sunday was rather splendid, consisting of
twenty-seven persons, who (men excepted) chiefly came in
carriages. These carriages succeeded each other so quickly, that
the servants asked my servant what was to be _seen_ at No. 11;
and when he said “a lady,” they answered, “what, is she ill?” My
cousin came first, and told me his brother had been in town, and
had often talked of visiting me, and when he returns I am to see
him.
The next day I took a coach, and came to Mitcham! a sad arrival!
But, as you may suppose, the freshness of grief was all mine,
and it became my duty to conquer the expression of it as soon as
possible; but I am only now in my usual spirits. * * * We are
very comfortable together; there is too, here, the _nicest_ set
of children; we had them all in last night, and we played at
magical music, and I made myself hoarse with singing through a
comb.
Upon my word I shall be very savage if I don’t hear from you,
and of the romans, alias romances or novels, in Pottergate
Street and St. Helen’s. * * * Of all things in the world, truth
and ingenuousness, the foundation of all virtue, are the rarest.
Farewell! till Saturday.
A. Opie.
Tuesday, 31st of May, 1814.
I begin my letter to-day, my dear father, as I shall probably be
hurried to-morrow. * * * On Sunday Tom went with me to hear S.
Smith at Baker Street chapel; and luckily a friend of Tom’s,
hearing him say I was coming, secured a place for me with a
friend of his. This gentleman went home with us, and I was
amused by his account of Spurzheim, the lecturer on Craniology,
whom I am going to meet at Dr. Busk’s. * * * * I had a very
pleasant morning, for my court, as L. M. calls it, was full and
agreeable. Rollis, Busks, Mr. Blair, Hamiltons, a new
acquaintance they brought, a Mr. Bainbridge, Mr. Kingston, Mrs.
C. Hanbury and her daughter, &c. At dinner I met Lady Cork,
Professor Spurzheim, Tenant, Dr. Rogier, or Roget, (I forget
which it is) and a young surgeon who is craniology mad. Tenant
talked all dinner, and in no way was the philosopher called out.
I thought this very rude and English, and so did Lady Cork;
therefore when the gentlemen joined us, she seated herself by
Mr. Spurzheim, and began to talk to him of his art. I joined
them; and he was explaining to me his ideas of the brain, when
_my_ ideas were distracted, and my brain rendered woolgathering,
by the arrival, not of a very large importation of clever men
and women, but of Dr. Brown, _the_ Dr. Brown, professor and
lecturer on moral philosophy, the successor of Dugald Stuart,
the Edinburgh Reviewer, and the recondite reviewer of Mrs. Opie,
in the first number of that celebrated work. He came with the L.
M.s, and was soon presented to me. I recollected L. M.’s
character of him, that he liked _faire le galant, vis-à-vis des
dames_, better than to converse in society, therefore I expected
what I found, a flattering Scotchman, and I could have broken my
silly head, because I felt fluttered while talking to him;
however, I recovered myself at last, and, as I told Mr. Blair I
would do, I contrived to be civil in my turn, though he (Mr.
Blair) assured me he thought the philosopher quite conceited
enough already. I must leave off, I am grie * * * _Wednesday_,
1st June. _Grieved_ for Henry Burrell I meant to say, but if I
had, I should have mourned foolishly, he being yesterday alive
and better: this is to me incomprehensible, unless, which I hope
cannot be the case, W. Burrell himself is ill. * *
To resume my Journal. I did contrive to say civil things to Dr.
Brown; but the wonder of the crowd, and the persons who sucked
us all in turn into their vortex, were Professor Spurzheim and
Lady M. Shepherd. Her ladyship fairly threw down the gauntlet,
and was as luminous, as deep, as clever in her observations and
questions, and her display of previous knowledge of Gall’s
theory and Hartley’s, as any professor could have been, and
convinced _me_, at least, that when Mr. Tierney said, of Lady
Mary, she was almost the best metaphysician he ever knew, and
the most logical woman, _by far_, he ever met with, he was
probably _right_. The professor looked alarmed, and put on his
pins; and Lady Mary began her dialogue at ten, and it was not
over at a little past twelve.
Dr. Brown listened occasionally, and with an _anatomizing_ eye,
for he does not like literary women; therefore a woman, entering
his own arena, must have called forth all his reviewer
bitterness. L. M. had assured Dr. B. our parties were mixed
ones, and nothing like science or learning displayed; and on his
first introduction he meets with a scene like this!
On the 11th I dine at L. M.’s to meet Dr. Brown and Lord
Erskine, &c. When S. Smith breakfasts with me I mean to ask Dr.
B. also. Farewell! I must conclude.
Dr. Brown has just called on me, uninvited and self-introduced.
He is gone again. Adieu!
4th June, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I expect a frank from Mr. Heathcote every minute. Last Tuesday
was a miserable day, for it rained hard; my sense of duty made
me keep my engagement, and accompany Mrs. Parry to the speeches,
at Harrow. Her other friends left her in the lurch, and Mr. P.
was too unwell to go; we dined at Harrow, at the Inn; and I
returned too tired, unfortunately, to dress and go to Mrs. S.’s
assembly, which was, I hear, very pleasant. Friday (yesterday)
evening, Lord Tamworth called on me; he arrived the day before,
and is come for a month to lodgings in the next street (Somerset
Street.) Mr. Rolls met Lord T. in the street and asked him to an
evening party of music, &c., at his house yesterday evening; and
when Lord T. arrived, we were a complete Leamington party. Lord
T. called on Lady Cork yesterday to announce himself, and be
ready for the dinner she promised us. But alas! she has fixed it
for to-morrow, and Lord T., Lord Erskine, and I, are engaged,
and cannot go! I dine to-day at Mr. Philips’, and go to Lady C’s
misses and muffins in the evening; however, I must say, to Lord
T.’s credit, that he is our only L. beau who looks here, even
better than he did there; indeed, better, for he threw more
dignity into his air last night, and all the other men looked
comparatively vulgar. How I honour Lady N. Dr. O. had the
officious brutality to write her a letter of four sides,
disapproving Lord N.’s goings on, and telling tales of him; that
is, repeating scandal concerning him; on which Lady N. said to
her lord, “I dare say N. you deserve all this and much more, but
it is an insult to a wife, for a man to dare abuse her husband
to her, and I shall write as follows,” and she wrote
thus:—“Sir, I conclude the time will come when you will repent
having written such a letter to me; I return it to you, that you
may have the satisfaction of burning it with your own hands!”
There’s a wife for you! I brought tears into her husband’s eyes,
by my praises of her.
On Monday, Doly and I walk over to dine at four, at cousin
Briggs’, and I am not yet engaged in the evening. I went
yesterday to pay visits; I found Lady Shepherd at home, and as
friendly as ever; but she sees less of her charming husband than
before, even. I found Lady Mary also at home, and she wanted me
to go thither in the evening, but I was engaged. She was nervous
about her display on Sunday last; but I assured her she was
thought to talk well, though I could have added, but not by Dr.
Brown. By the bye, I had only just sealed my letter to you when
Dr. Brown came in uninvited; he apologised for his impudence in
coming, we shook hands, and I found myself _tête à tête_ with an
Edinburgh reviewer, and a lecturer on moral philosophy!
However, I did not _die_ of it, as I offered to take him to Lady
C.’s _pink_ party to-night, and her _blue_ one on the 11th, and
to the latter he will probably go. Lady Mary Shepherd told me
she had inquired, and the foundation of my mysterious stranger,
did really happen to her father’s eldest brother, Lord Dunmany,
my Lord D.; with this addition, that when Lady D.’s coffin
arrived at Deal or Dover, the first husband, in a sort of
frenzy, stabbed the coffin, that he might get a sight of his
lost wife’s face. I find Joseph Gurney was gentleman-usher at
the Meeting to the Duchess of Oldenburg. I shall like to hear
his account of her. I will not seal this till the last moment. I
now recollect I might have sent my letter to be franked, but
then I must trust other people’s servants.
11, Orchard Street, June 14th, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
* * * Margaret came, just before Doly and I set off, and was
glad to go to the concert, so I was easy. She eats nothing but
pudding or tart, and potatoes, and drinks only water. She is a
very fine creature, and has the most graceful dignified carriage
possible, and I assure you I like much to have to _shew_ her.
Yesterday a party of us went to Franklin’s, the fruiterer’s, in
Pall Mall, to see the Emperor, &c., arrive, and there we waited
fruitlessly till near six, and to this hour we know not when the
royals arrived, but sure it is we were all disappointed, high
and low. While we were there, B. was called out of the room by
Mr. Franklin, who went backwards and forwards into Carlton
House, and he told him first that the Prince was so afraid of an
attack on his palace, that he had, under a pretence of its being
a guard of honour, gotten a party of _blues_ into the palace,
and next he said, that the Prince was so low and so nervous that
they could not get him downstairs, and that he would not go to
meet the kings, and declared he would not stir at all, or shew
himself. Last Saturday he was going out at the left-hand gate,
but seeing a crowd at it, he drew the string, ordered the gate
to be closed, and drove to the other; but by that time the mob
was there also, on which he ordered that to be closed, and went
out a backway. This shews how shattered his nerves are. It seems
strange that he should not have gone to meet the kings now come,
in the same way as he met the king of France; and as, whatever
he may be, he has at least been doing the honours of the country
and of a sovereign _well_, I am sorry that he is deprived of the
only opportunity he has or _values_, of appearing to advantage.
Still, he has only himself to blame in the first instance; but I
disapprove and dislike as much the woman and the wife, who stirs
up the nation against her husband; she violates _her_ duties, I
think, _et l’un vaut bien l’autre_. Foolish vixen as she is! if
she stirs up a flame to consume her husband, the same flame in
the end must consume her; let her look to that, and for that
“even-handed justice, which returns the poisoned chalice to
one’s own lips.” I enjoyed my day at H. Briggs’ much; Doly and I
walked thither, and back again, at night. A night dark as
Erebus; and the effect of the bright city, when we reached the
bridge, and St. Margaret’s bells ringing a peal of expectation
of the Emperor, and the crowds of persons still gathering in
hopes of his arrival, had a most striking and novel effect.
_Thursday_, 9th. I resolved not to finish this letter, but get
a frank at Mr. W. Smith’s, as I was going to attend Mrs. S.’s
_levée_, and I am now expecting it by the morning post. One
knows not whom or what to believe; but I now find that it was
the mob’s breaking in to see old Blucher that so alarmed the
Prince that he sent for a guard; and an aid-de-camp to the
Prince of Wurtemberg, a handsome young Prussian, told me
yesterday, that the Prince _did_ go to meet them, and that it
was he that took them to London by the road, and a way by which
they were not expected. “Ah!” said I, “_c’est qu’il avoit
peur_.” “_Mais oui, (repondit-il,) c’est bien vrai; c’est qu’il
avoit peur._” But really of public things and people you must
know more than I can tell you, by the papers. Yesterday,
however, on our return from Mrs. Smith’s, we walked home by the
Pulteney Hotel, and just in time to get in amongst the crowd,
and on a step, whence, in due time, we saw the Emperor and his
sister pass, in the Prince’s state coach. I only saw, however,
his back, left arm, and curl. But the king of Prussia, who
followed, I saw perfectly; and he is a most interesting looking
man. But we are all Emperor mad, and from morn till eve the
streets are thronged with people and carriages, waiting
patiently for hours, to see him pass. Yesterday morning by ten,
he was, with his sister, _tête à tête_, at the British Museum;
and a gentleman we know saw him very near, and said he was like
J. Smith.
We dined at Westmacott’s and I sent Meg home, and went to Lady
Charleville’s, where I found a large circle listening to music,
by Naldi, Chiodi, &c.; to my glad surprise I was kindly greeted
by my old friend Lord Carysfort, whom indisposition, of a severe
kind indeed, has kept out of company four years. There too I saw
J. Smith, who repeated to me a poem on H. Twiss’s parodies,
called “the mocking-bird,” which is admirable; he says Mr. Poole
wrote the “who wants me.” When most of the company was gone,
Lady C. took the seat vacated by Lady Mornington, that mother of
great men, and it was next a venerable-looking blind woman, whom
Lord C. had previously pointed out to me as the once celebrated
beauty, Lady Sarah Lennox. She is now grey, blind, and seems
both by her voice and manner to be bowed by various cares; but
perhaps I fancied this.—No frank yet! Just room and time to say
I have seen, from head to foot, and _touched_ the Emperor. Other
ladies touched his hand, I squeezed his wrist only. I bribed the
porter and got into his hotel!!! To-morrow, from a balcony, we
shall have a chance of seeing him again, and in safety. Adieu.
11th June, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
Lest you should have thought me _mad_ by the conclusion of my
last, I shall begin by giving you a full explanation of it. The
other morning Mrs. L. M. took me and Margaret out in her
carriage, and I persuaded her to drive opposite the Pulteney
Hotel; but other and heavier carriages obstructed our view; so I
borrowed the servant, and said, “I will try and get on the
steps, and if I succeed, I will send back for you.” Accordingly,
off I set, and was told by the constables I must not stand on
the steps; however, the men’s hearts relenting, they told me, if
I ran up and made friends with the porter, perhaps I should get
into the hall. I took the hint, and opening the door, I accosted
Cerberus, who told me admission was impossible, but, _tout en me
grondant, il avoit la bonté d’accepter une pièce de trois
chelins, que je lui mis dans la main, et il me permit d’éntrer_.
There I found about ten ladies, one of whom, whose face I know
as well as my own, came up to me and said, “I’m sure Mrs. Opie
you would be welcome to be here,” and seating herself by me,
proceeded to discuss divers important matters, _en attendant_
the return of the Emperor from Carlton House. At length he
arrived, and we formed a line for him to pass through. He was
dressed in a scarlet uniform, (ours,) and wore our blue ribband.
His head is bald, his hair light, his complexion is blond and
beautiful, his eyes blue, his nose flattish, with a funny little
button end to it; his mouth very small, and his lips thin. His
chest and shoulders are broad, and finely formed, his manner
graceful and dignified, and his countenance pleasing; and he is
the Emperor of all the Russias, therefore, he is handsome,
delightful, and so forth. I said that we formed a _line_, and I,
simple soul, meant to _keep_ it, but not so my companions; for
they all closed round him, and one took one hand, one the other,
and really I did not know how far they meant to presume; for my
part, I dared not, for some time, even think of touching him,
but “evil communications corrupt good manners,” and at last,
when he was nearly past, I grasped his wrist, but the grasp
would not have crushed a fly. The lady who knew me, said to me,
when he was past, “what a soft hand he has.” Lord Yarmouth, who
was with him, came afterwards, and talked with that lady. What a
fright _he_ is!
Now to go back to Lady Sarah, who, as I said before, is blind. *
* * Lord Tullamore came to me, and said, “Now almost all the
company is gone, you will sing a little ballad.” I rose, and
went to Lady Charleville. “This,” said she, “is Lady S. Napier,
will you sing her a ballad?” and, recollecting how ill I once
used Lady C. in not answering a letter of hers for three years,
and eager to make amends, I said I could not sing anything worth
hearing, but I would try. “Surely,” said Lady Sarah, “that was
injudicious; Mrs. Opie would rather not have had the attention
of the company so loudly solicited.” “Very true,” replied Lady
C., “but your ladyship is always the best-bred woman in the
world, and I the worst, and I never see you without taking a
lesson in manners.” * * * Well, after having beguiled my fear a
little, by inquiring of Lady S. after her sister, Lady Louisa
Conolly, I begun, and sung, “Nay, take it, Patty,”[18] and
_decently_, considering. By Lady Sarah, was one of her sons,
who, with his brothers, was wounded in every engagement abroad,
and one of them taken up for dead. I never saw a handsomer man!
I could not help looking at him! He is very black, with black
moustachios, that make him look like a picture of some young
Venetian by Titian, and his manner was so pleasing! He has his
mother’s outline, enlarged into manly beauty, and he has such
fine dark eyes! Thursday I dined at the Maxwells’, and liked my
day. Sir James Saumarez dined there; a Mr. Lamb, M.P., and his
wife and son. Dr. Young, a Miss Caldwell, and Sir Nathaniel
Conant, the magistrate. I sat at dinner between Sir Nathaniel
and Mr. Lamb, and liked my companions much. I went home at
eleven, undressed, and robed myself to walk to see the
illuminations, with Margaret, Tom, and Mr. Barber. We did not
get home till three in the morning, and were not in bed till
four. Yesterday we staid at home; I had refused a dinner-party,
and we kept quiet, and were in bed by half-past ten.
This morning, by a little past eight, we were at the Pulteney
Hotel, and in the hall. By ten the hall was very full, so I
placed my young companion on a table, and we had a good view of
the Emperor and his sister, who came in arm-in-arm, and extended
their hands graciously on either side; neither Margaret,
however, nor I, had resolution enough to take them; but two
young women pressed forward, one _on her knee_, and _kissed his
hand_, which he drew back as if shocked or ashamed, and I am
sure I was, for I did not recognise my country-women in such
forwardness. M. touched his arm, and I tried to touch the
Duchess’s hand, but had no chance of success. She is very like
him, but plain; her nose plainer than his, and though as fair,
she has not his colour, but a beauty would have been disguised
by such dress; an immense Leghorn gipsy hat, with white
feathers; but they say her manners are most captivating. Ask
Joseph J. Gurney what _he_ thinks. To-day I dine at Lady Cork’s
in the evening. Adieu!
The next letter in this series formed the material for a paper which
Mrs. Opie published in “Tait’s Magazine,” February, 1844; at the close
of that article, she makes a few reflections, which will be of interest
to the reader, as shewing the feelings with which she looked back upon
those scenes of earlier days:—
I had dined (she says) that day in company with Lord Erskine,
and the lamented Dr. Brown, of Edinburgh, the professor of moral
philosophy, at the house of my dear and highly valued friend J.
G. Lemaistre, (_now_, alas! no more,) and I had finished the
evening in a party, more than usually marked by interesting
incidents and conversation. Yet I fear I have not said much in
favour of those gay and busy scenes in which I once moved, by
confessing myself so highly gratified by what I have been
describing; still I cannot retract my words; pleased and
grateful I was—it might perhaps be a weakness in me to feel so;
but I cannot be so disingenuous as not to own it to its full
extent.
The original Letter bears date the 16th.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I really could not write yesterday, so I got a frank, that
to-day I might write a great deal; but I have seen so much, and
seem to have so much to say, that I know not where to begin. On
Saturday last I met at dinner Lord Erskine, Sir John Sinclair,
Dr. Brown, his brother, the mayor, &c. I sat between Dr. B. and
Lord E.; but the peer, by his very agreeable though incessant
egotism, and tales of himself, intermingled with interesting
anecdotes of the Emperor Alexander, rather seduced my attention
away from the philosopher. Barely have I seen Lord E. more
amusing, but Sir J. Sinclair was new to me, and I wanted to hear
him. So it was really “_l’embarras de richesses_,” for any one
of these three lions would have been enough at once. In the
evening came an addition to the company, but Lord E. and I went
away to Lady Cork’s; the professor was tired and would not go,
though I got Lord E. to offer to take him. Had it not been for
my sacred vow never to break an engagement, I should have gone
to the opera to see the royalties, which was, I hear, the finest
sight of the sort ever seen. At Lady C.’s I found Mrs. Harvey,
(the author of many novels, and latterly of the excellent one of
Amable,) James Smith, the Boddingtons, Professor Spurzheim, Monk
Lewis, Horace Twiss, Lord and Lady Carysfort, Lord Limerick,
Miss White, Lord Cumbermere and his betrothed, Miss Greville and
her sister, Lady Caroline Lamb, just as ever, and doing her
possibles to amuse this very small party, in three large rooms,
thrown open for Blucher, who was expected; but the opera had
spoiled the party, for Greys, Lansdownes, and Whitbreads, had
intended being there. Past midnight, however, some came in from
the opera, and broke up our conversation, which had been
pleasant; for Lady Carysfort had been very entertaining with
accounts of Berlin, and Lord Limerick very eloquent in
describing the preparations for White’s ball, so vast and so
elegant as to make me very curious, because I shall not see
them. However, perhaps I shall escape being _burnt alive_, for
the same decorations exposed Prince Schwartzenberg’s palace to
that fire in which his wife was burnt; as the pillars are all
made of fluted muslin, to represent alabaster; and the capitals
of rose-coloured ditto.
But, to return—on the entrance of Miss Fox, (Lord Holland’s
sister,) and Miss Vernon, a new subject of interest was started;
for they brought the astonishing intelligence, that the emperor,
and the king, and lastly the regent, had bowed to the princess!
No, I am wrong—Some one else asserted the fact, and they said
it was _equivocal_, or that he might be said to have bowed
either to the pit or the princess. Oh! the glorious uncertainty
of reports, even from eye-witnesses! Well, there we were, all on
the _qui vive_—first one came in, then another, and the first
question was—“Well what do _you_ say? Did the prince bow to the
pit, or the princess?” and, as you may suppose, no two persons
gave the same statement. “See,” said I, to Lady C. Lamb, “how
difficult it is to ascertain the truth!” “Aye, indeed,” she
replied, “it teaches us to receive all reports doubtingly;” she
added, “still the historian will describe this as it really was,
and _he_ will be overruled by the majority of voices on the
subject.” “If that be the way of judging,” thought I, “then the
prince _did_ bow to the princess, for the majority were in
favour of it,” but I shall insert here, though not in its turn,
that the princess herself told S. Smith, who told me, that he
did _not_ bow to her, nor was there any strong ground for
fancying it. To resume my narration—the company had begun to
disperse, and no Blucher came, when, to keep up Lady Cork’s
spirits, Lady C. L. prepared to act a proverb, but it ended in
their acting a word; and she, Lady Cork, and Miss White, went
out of the room, and came back digging with poker and tongs. To
be brief, the word was _orage_: they dug for _or_, and they
acted a passion for _rage_, and then they acted a storm, for the
whole word, _orage_.
Still, the old general came not, and Lady Caroline disappeared;
but, previously, Mrs. Wellesley Pole and her daughter had
arrived, bringing a beautiful Prince—Prince Leopold, of Saxe
Coburg; but saying she feared Blucher would not come. However,
we now heard a distant, then a near, hurrah; and a violent
knocking at the door. The hurrahs increased, and we all jumped
up, exclaiming, “There’s Blucher at last!” and the door opened,
the servant calling out, “General Blucher;” on which in strutted
Lady Caroline Lamb, in a cocked hat and a great coat! In the
meanwhile, Lord Hardwick had arrived from the British Gallery,
where he had been in attendance on the Princess Charlotte, the
Grand Duchess, &c., and to him Lady Caroline went, with clasped
hands and lifted eyes, saying she was come to ask the greatest
favour—it was that he would give her some money. “What for?”
“Oh! to pay the servants for that _pretty hurrah_, they did it
so well!” So poor Lord H. gave her a dollar; looking, I thought,
rather silly at having his pocket so gracefully picked; and Lady
C. ran downstairs delighted. So end the adventures of yesterday.
Sunday I heard Mr. Moore preach, and admirably. Mrs. L. M. took
me to the crowded drive; and though we did not see the kings, we
saw Blucher very near. We dined with the L. M.s, and in the
evening went to Miss White’s, where, after talking some time to
a gentleman who knew me, though I did not know him, I found it
was Sir William Dunbar, that interesting Captain Dunbar I have
seen at Norwich. He is very odd, but clever. I forgot to say
that I had a very crowded _levée_, where, again, every one told
me a new story of the Prince’s bow, and all were equally
positive! * * * * *
(Rest of letter lost.)
22nd of June, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I have not time to write much, but I will write as it is my day;
and I have to acknowledge the receipt of the parcel. Pray let me
have two pairs of black boots made as soon as possible; mine are
quite worn out, and the filthy weather does not allow of my
wearing light ones. I can’t wait. * * _Thursday_, eleven
o’clock. Thus far I had gotten yesterday at half past four
o’clock, when Lord Tamworth, and Mrs. L. M. after him, came in
and interrupted me, and I was forced to turn the latter out,
that I might dress to go to Mackintosh’s to dinner, at six
o’clock; but I consoled myself by the certainty of getting a
frank. I will now go on to that of which my mind is most full,
namely, my yesterday’s dinner; which it was almost worth coming
up to town on purpose to be at. I got to M.’s at six, the hour
appointed; found no fire, alas! and no one to receive me;
happily soon after arrived Mr. Wishawe, horror struck at no
fire, and saying in all civilized houses there must be one in
such weather; but he warmed himself and me by inveighing against
poor Lord Cochrane’s pillory, which all the lawyers, and all
London, I hope, disapprove. How unwise too! for it leads us to
forget his fault in his punishment—but this is by the by. Next
arrived Dr. Brown, whom I presented to Wishawe. Then came Lady
M., and then Sir James, and I found three different hours for
dining had been named to the different guests; and Mr. W. and I
anticipated hunger being added to cold. Next came Playfair, then
Richard Payne Knight, then John William Ward, just come from
Paris, and lastly, at about half past seven, the great
traveller, and so forth—Baron de Humboldt; he was not presented
to me, therefore I could not ask whether he, or his brother,
brought my letter from Helen Williams; and to dinner we went,
Ward handing me, so I sat by him, and on my other hand was Mr.
Knight. I certainly never saw so many first-rate men together;
but again it would have been _l’embarras de richesses_ with me,
had not each person been a whetting-stone to the wit and
information of the other.
Politics, science, literature, Greek, morals, church government,
infidelity, sects, philosophy, characters of the Emperor of
Russia, King of Prussia, of Blucher, of Platoff, given in a
clear and simple manner by the Baron, and commented on by
others, formed the never flagging discourse, throughout the
dinner. I did not talk much, as you may guess, for I had
scarcely ears enough to listen with. Ward was more charming and
more maliciously witty, more Puck-like than I had seen him for
years; and what he did not choose to venture aloud, he whispered
in my ear—more agreeable than polite; but once I caught myself
in an argument with Mr. Knight, and I trembled at my own
temerity. Talk across the table, I could not have done; but Mr.
K. was my neighbour, and none but he heard my daring. I will
give you one of Ward’s sarcasms; but an unusually good natured
one, as it would flatter, not wound, the persons at whom it was
aimed. “I hear (said I) you returned from Paris with a
Cardinal.” “Yes, the Cardinal Gonsalva, and I had the great
satisfaction of putting him at length under the protection of a
Silesian Jew.” “Not being able (said Sir James) to find any
Scotch philosophers at hand to take his place.” “But had there
been any Scotch philosophers at hand to consign him to, I should
still have preferred the Jew, because I know there would be some
chance of his converting _the Jew_.” The philosophers present
laughed; and this introduced a curious discussion on infidelity.
* * (Enter the Baron de Humboldt to breakfast with me, and then
I take him to Mrs. Siddons.) Alas! it was no Baron—so I may go
on. Ward saw Lafayette at Paris; almost the only man of a
revolution who has survived one, and lived to enjoy life. He
owned to me he did not care to see him; for in his opinions on
such a subject, he was too much of a Burkite, to relish seeing
Lafayette. De Humboldt spoke highly of him, and mentioned with
pleasure, as a proof of tolerance of opinion, that Lafayette has
always been beloved and associated with, by persons of totally
opposite opinions to his own; and has been enriched by them at
their death: lately, he has acquired much by the death of
Monsieur de Lusignan, whom I once knew very well. * * Here is
the Baron indeed! He is very charming! So full of information,
and so simple in his manner of giving it. * * *
Two o’clock. I have lived more in two or three hours to-day than
I usually live in a month. I have been to Peru, to Mexico,
climbing the Table Mountain, besides hearing much on all
subjects, amusing, instructive, and interesting. This charming
Chamberlain of Frederick William (I mean the King of Prussia)
goes to-day; but I am to see his brother, who is now appointed
ambassador from Prussia to France, on Sunday certainly, if not
before. * * *
(Rest of letter lost.)
Thursday, July 1st, 1814.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I would not write yesterday, that I might acknowledge the
receipt of the parcel to-day. I had no idea they could all come
together, _meat_ and _clothes_. Gregory is _not_ a Catholic. We
may go in fancy dresses, but _all_ must wear a _mask_; though no
one is forced to assume a character. The verses I sent you were
tame enough; but those I have since written, if I had not been
forced to introduce the name of Wellington, with my own
approbation, and at the suggestion of a very good critic, (Col.
Barry,) are tolerably good, I think. Mrs. B. S. has undertaken
to sing them, and, if she can’t adapt, to set them herself. Lady
Cork has given me a most beautiful trimming for the bottom of a
dress which I am to wear on the 4th. It is really handsome; a
wreath of white satin flowers worked upon net.
Our day on Tuesday was delightful, the scene enchanting. My
favourite companion there was Sir William Dunbar, more odd, but
more amusing and original, than ever. Still, however pleasant
the people at Fulham, M. and I enjoyed the drive to and fro,
more than the day itself. James Smith went with us, and he sang
funny songs, and repeated epigrams and _bon mots_ all the way
there. While waiting in the hall for the carriage, (for we
wisely came away at eleven,) he gave us an extempore comedy;
and, when in the carriage, on my telling him that Sir W. Dunbar
had told me he was _blasé_ with everything, and that he was a
disappointed man; he said; “It is evident that _he_ is so; I
dare say there is something interesting and particular in his
story; suppose I _invent_ one for him.” So off he set, and gave
us three letters of a novel in letters, and, without pausing a
moment, beginning, “Sir W. Dunbar to General Evelyn.—When we
last parted, my dear General, I was in the prime of life; every
hope full of vigour,” &c., &c., and during the last mile or two,
he relieved the monotony which was stealing over all this, by
quotations from Young and Swift, well remembered and well
repeated. Certainly, never did a man so completely pay, by his
brains, for a seat in a carriage. I persuaded Edward to dance
with Miss M., having vainly tried to persuade Sir W. D., though
he owned her to be very pretty, as did Edward. We left them
dancing. The baron, William de Humboldt, was forced to attend
Lord Castlereagh in a conference of nine hours, yesterday;
therefore he wrote me an elegant note of excuse for not going to
see Mrs. Siddons with me, calling me “Mademoiselle Opie;”—no
doubt from my juvenile appearance. So we walked over to tell
Mrs. Siddons this, and she was somewhat mortified; but recovered
herself, and was most delightful. We staid two hours and more,
and we none of us knew how late it was. She said she had passed
a most happy two hours, and had no regrets. M. came home raving
all the way, saying she was the most beautiful, delightful,
agreeable, and, I believe, even the _youngest_ woman she ever
saw; and she has put up in paper, the bud of a rose she gave
her, to keep for ever. Yesterday we dined at H. G.’s, and went
to the Maxwells’ in the evening. Old Albinia, of
Buckinghamshire, has made me promise to go to her masquerade
breakfast, and _en masque_. I owe her this, for her kindness to
me, when I sang to the Prince. On Sunday we were to dine at the
Solicitor-General’s, in Bloomsbury Square; but it is now put off
to Sunday se’nnight, at Wimbledon. As I was offered a ticket for
the ball to the Duke of Wellington for £4 7s., I accepted the
offer, and wrote my last commands to Lord Tamworth; so I hope I
did not write too late to prevent the exchange. I go full
dressed, but no train, and high feathers; with a pink domino of
calico, made high and long, to give me height and disguise me,
thrown over all, that I may be _incog._, and be masked till I am
tired, and then appear as myself. Mrs. P. goes with us. I have
had the kindest letter from Mr. Coke! promising to do all he can
for Mr. D., and entreating me to visit him in the winter,
whenever I choose.[19]—I have just room to insert the lines.
Why sons of Britain rush ye forth
Like torrents from the mountain’s height,
To shout, untired, for foreign worth
And glad with foreign chiefs, your sight?
Can Britain boast no chiefs renown’d,
Whose arm can crush, whose heart can _spare_!
No Leader who, with conquest crown’d,
Can _wisely plan_, and _greatly dare_?
Yes, Britains, yes! and now again
In shouts your myriad voices raise!
But louder, longer, be the strain
That speaks a grateful nation’s praise.
For Wellington now glads our sight,
Whose valour guards his Sovereign’s throne,
He, in untarnish’d glory bright;
And Wellington is all OUR OWN!
I allude in the sixth line to the mercy he showed at Toulouse.
The Baron, Alexander de Humboldt, said to me, “This certainly
was the first man in Europe!” and no doubt, when party feeling
is forgotten, he will be done _justice_ to. Farewell!
-----
[18] This ballad was called “The Soldier’s Farewell,” and was composed
by Mrs. R. Cumberland.
[19] Mrs. Opie visited Holkham in January, 1816, and wrote some lines to
Lady Anson on her birthday, while there.