FRIENDSHIP WITH THE GURNEY FAMILY; TWO LETTERS FROM MR.
J. J. GURNEY; DEATH OF HIS BROTHER; MRS. OPIE’S RETURN FROM
LONDON; EARLY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS; MRS. ROBERTS; RECOLLECTIONS OF
SIR W. SCOTT; VISIT TO EDINBURGH; “VALENTINE’S EVE;” VISIT TO
MR. HAYLEY; “TALES OF THE HEART;” LETTER TO MR. HAYLEY; LETTER
FROM MRS. INCHBALD; HER DEATH.
From the gay and brilliant scenes depicted in the preceding letters,
Mrs. Opie was suddenly and painfully called away, by an event which
excited deep feeling in her heart, and which must have been rendered
more peculiarly distressing, by the contrast in which it stood with all
that had been occupying her thoughts, during the months of her absence
from home.
Preserved with her letters of this date, there were found two, of a very
different character from her own, addressed to her by a friend who was
destined, in after years, to exercise great influence over her opinions
and subsequent course; we speak of Mr. J. J. Gurney, that highly
honoured and admirable man, whose friendship, thus early commenced, she
retained, with ever-growing satisfaction, until his deeply-lamented
death.
It may be remembered that Mrs. Opie, in one of her early letters, speaks
of “Elizabeth Fry,” to whom she had been paying a visit on occasion of
her marriage. They had been acquaintances in youth; and, in the life of
Mrs. Fry, there are occasional allusions to visits paid by Dr. Alderson
to Earlham, the home of the Gurney family, when Elizabeth was a gay and
lively girl.[20] Shortly after Mrs. Opie’s marriage, Miss E. Gurney
visited London, and in her diary she records a day spent with “Amelia
Opie,” and says: “I had a pleasant time of it; I called on Mrs. Siddons,
and on Dr. Batty, then on Mrs. Twiss; and, in the evening, Mr. Opie,
Amelia, and I, went to the concert,” &c.
After Mrs. Fry’s marriage she was brought into the society, almost
exclusively, of strict “Friends,” and there does not appear to have been
much intercourse between her and her early friend; but when Mrs. Opie
returned to Norwich, on the death of her husband, she resumed her former
habits of intimacy with the family at Earlham; and found, among the
large and happy circle there, friends whose influence had a beneficial
effect upon her. The youngest sister, Priscilla, who was a most lovely
creature, and who died in 1821, seems to have been especially endeared
to her; and Mr. J. J. Gurney said, that her friendship with this sister
and himself, appeared to be the principal means of producing that
gradual change of sentiment, which eventually led to her joining the
Society of Friends.
We are, however, anticipating the progress of events.—To return to the
letters of which we have spoken; we find, in the first of them,
allusions to the illness of Mr. Gurney’s brother, whose death, which
followed a few weeks subsequently, was the cause of Mrs. Opie’s hasty
return.
Norwich, 6th mo., 4th, 1814.
I have a mind, my dear friend, to write thee a letter; this is
all the apology I offer for the intrusion. There are two or
three things I wish to say to thee; the first is, that I
remember, with true pleasure, thy affectionate conduct to us
all, during the last few months of affliction. It has been like
that of a sister, and has been prized by us, I trust, as it
ought to be; however thou mayest be engaged in the gay whirlpool
of London life, rest assured, therefore, thou art not forgotten
by thy retired friends at Earlham. I thank thee for thy last
note, which is an instructive inmate of my pocket-book, since it
bespeaks a _tender conscience_. Wilt thou pardon thy friend if
he tell thee, that he greatly admires this tenderness of
conscience with regard to all thou sayest of others? It appears
to him that thy mind is particularly alive to the duties of
Christian charity; and he now wishes to express his desire that
the same fear, (shall he call it “godly fear?”) may attend thee
in all thy communications with the world.
To leave the third person; I will refer to two texts, “Pure
religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this—to
keep one’s self _unspotted from the world_,” and again, “Be ye
not conformed to this world, but be ye transformed by the
renewing of your minds, that he may know what is the good,
acceptable, and perfect will of God.” Now, what wilt thou say to
me? perhaps thou wilt say that thy countrified, drab-coated,
methodistical friend, knows nothing of the “world,”
misinterprets the meaning of the apostle, and is frightened by
the bugbear of a name, as a child is by a ghost.
There may be some truth in these observations of thine, and I
must allow that the world is not idolatrous _now_, as it was
_then_; and again, that we all alike are citizens of the world,
and there is no department of it which is not tinctured with
evil; but I refer particularly to the “fashionable world,” of
which I am apt to entertain two notions—the first, that there
is much in it of _real evil_; the second, that there is much
also in it, which, though not evil in itself, yet has a decided
tendency to produce forgetfulness of God, and thus to generate
evil indirectly. On the other hand, there is little in it,
perhaps, which is _positively good_.
With regard to the apostolic precepts; perhaps they intimate
that there are two spirits or dispositions, moving amongst
mankind; the one celestial, leading to good; the other
terrestrial, tending to evil; perhaps they are meant to warn us,
not literally against the world, but against _a worldly spirit_.
Now I will close my grave remarks, by saying, that it is my
earnest desire, both for thee and myself, that we may be
redeemed from a _worldly spirit_, and that in our communications
with the world, whether fashionable, commercial, or
common-place, we may be enabled simply to follow an unerring
guide within us, which will assuredly inform us, if we will but
_wait for direction_, what to touch and what to shrink
from—what to follow, and what to eschew.
I returned home with Pris, last fourth day, and found my dear
brother considerably more feeble than when I left him; I think
this may be owing, principally, to his having fallen and hurt
his knee, and to the confinement which the accident has rendered
necessary. Upon the whole we are much at ease about him, and
_ought_ to be thankful whether we _are_ so or no.
Do not be angry with me; write me a letter; and farewell, in
every sense of the word.
I remain, thy affectionate friend,
J. J. GURNEY.
The second letter (dated Earlham, 7th mo., 22nd, 1814) is much longer,
and as a large part of it will be found inserted in the Life of Mr.
Gurney, we shall content ourselves with a few extracts taken from it.
After apologizing for “addressing something in the shape of advice, to
one so much older and more experienced than himself,” he says:—
My chief desire is, that thou mayst be willing to give up
everything which the light of truth may point out as
inconsistent with the holy will of God. True happiness, here or
hereafter, can consist in nothing, but in conformity to that
will. The world has, undoubtedly, many pleasures to bestow,
perhaps none so great as that of being universally _liked,
admired, and flattered_; but it is not in the world we are to
find that “peace which passeth understanding.” It is striking to
observe the _essential_ difference which exists between the
pleasures of the world, and the religious happiness of the soul.
The _temporality_ of the former seems to be proved, by their all
being conveyed to us through our _natural senses_; but “eye hath
not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of
man to conceive the things which God hath prepared for those who
love Him.” How clearly one sees, all the way through, that the
one belongs to our mortal, the other, to our immortal part.
Thou wilt observe, my dear friend, that I have underscored the
words, “liked, flattered, and admired.” It is because I know
thou art so; and, unless thou art of a very different
composition to thy friend, I am satisfied it must afford no
small temptations to thee, and require, on thy part, the utmost
stretch of watchfulness. I really should like to know how thy
mind was affected by Lady B.’s day-masquerade. Because, I am
sure, that if I could sing and converse in that way, and
procured all manner of favour and applause, from innumerable
lords and ladies, I should be vain as a peacock thereupon. Now,
I confess, if thou art vain, thy vanity[21] does not show
itself; but it may be there is some lurking particle of it in
the bottom of thy heart, which may put thee to some trouble. But
mind, I do not want to draw thee to confession.
My dear brother has been a good deal weaker, especially in mind,
during the last fortnight; but he continues full of peace, and,
I think I may add, of Christian love. Again and again farewell,
saith thy sincere and affectionate friend,
J. J. GURNEY.
This brother, Mr. John Gurney, declined rapidly, and early in September
his death took place. In the Life of Mrs. Fry this event is recorded;
and she mentions in a letter dated from Earlham, whither she had gone to
take her leave of him, that on the last morning of his life, Dr.
Alderson had called and seen him, and that he desired his love to Amelia
Opie.
The second of her Lays for the Dead is addressed to this “departed
friend,” and was written (as the title to it informs us) after attending
his funeral, in the Friend’s burying-ground at Norwich, having travelled
all night, in order to arrive in time.
It commences thus:—
“Friend, long beloved! on thy untimely bier
I came to drop the sympathizing tear;
I came to join the long funereal train,
And heave the bitter sigh which mourns in vain.”
From this period Mrs. Opie attended the religious services of the
Friends, and continued to do so until she united herself to their
communion, eleven years after; and in a note written the year of Mr.
Gurney’s death, to the writer of these memoirs, she says, “in 1814 I
left the Unitarians.”
It does not, indeed, appear, from any record of her early days, nor from
the recollections of her friends is it ascertainable, that she, at any
time, was in actual communion with the Unitarian body. She was, in her
youth, in the habit of attending at the Octagon chapel, where, during
the ministry of Mr. Pendlebury Houghton, Dr. Sayers, and Mr. William
Taylor, and others of similar opinions, attended, and highly eulogised
the sermons of that eloquent, though by no means evangelical, preacher.
When in London, it is evident, from her letters, that Mrs. Opie went to
church, and did not act as a conscientious Unitarian would, under the
circumstances, have done; and we can hardly avoid the inference, that
she had no very fixed opinions on religious subjects, and that the mere
circumstances of her birth and education had occasioned her connexion
with the Unitarians. From the time, however, at which we have now
arrived, she ceased to attend the Octagon chapel; and although she did
not at once embrace the religious opinions of the Friends, nor sever
herself from her former associates and pursuits, she gradually, but
surely, yielded to an influence to which she had hitherto been a
stranger, and experienced a progressive change in her religious views.
Mrs. Opie, shortly after this time, edited a little book, entitled
“Duty,” written by her friend Mrs. Roberts, to which she prefixed a
sketch of the character of the authoress. This sketch was published
separately in the “Gentlemen’s Magazine,” for 1815. It is a pleasing
tribute of affectionate regret, to the memory of one whose friendship,
she said, would always be among the most pleasing recollections of her
life, and to have lost her so soon, one of her most lasting regrets.
In the spring of the year 1816, Mrs. Opie paid her usual annual visit to
London; and in her note book has recorded her “recollections of Sir W.
Scott,” whom she then, for the first time, saw, or rather heard. She had
_seen_ him on two or three previous occasions—first, shortly after the
publication of the “Lay of the Last Minstrel,” at the assembly of a
widow lady, in London; but the crowd was so great that she caught a very
imperfect glimpse of him, merely sufficient to tell her that “he wore
powder and his hair tied behind.” The next time she saw the great man
was at a picture gallery, somewhere in London, when, as he passed near
and was pointed out to her, she observed that he was lame, but there was
a freshness in his complexion and an air of robust health about his
whole contour. At length, in 1816, she met him, and she says,
It was the _last_ time I ever saw him, and I might say the
_first_, according to the idea of him, who said on the
introduction of a stranger, “speak, that I may see thee!” for
certainly the face of W. Scott, when speaking and animated, and
the same face in a quiescent state, were two different things.
And what a seeing that was! It was at breakfast, at the house of
Sir George Phillips, in Mount Street; I had been invited to meet
Sir Walter, and I went with the anticipation of no common
pleasure, arriving precisely at the time specified. Sir W.,
however, was there before me; and for some time, to my great
satisfaction, we, with the master and mistress of the house,
continued uninterrupted by other guests. I know not what led to
the subject; but he gave us a most animated description of a
cockney’s hunting in the Highlands; I think the person was a
militia officer, and his terror, when he found himself going
full gallop up and down crags, steeps, and declivities of which
he had before no idea, was pictured with a living spirit which I
cannot do justice to. This narrative was interrupted by the
arrival of other guests, and Sir W., to my great joy, was
desired to hand me downstairs; consequently I sat beside him;
the company was too large for much general conversation, though
there was also present another whose conversational powers were
first-rate—Wordsworth, who came late, being one of the party. I
did not, however, regret this, as I was enabled to keep the
conversation of my right-hand neighbour to myself. One subject
succeeded another, and the gifted man condescended to speak to
me of my “Father and Daughter,” and told me he had cried over it
more than he ever cried over such things. I felt emboldened to
speak of his own writings, and ventured to ask him why, with
such dramatic power, he had never tried the drama? he said many
reasons had prevented him; amongst others, he was, he said, a
proud man, and his pride would never have allowed him to dance
attendance on the managers, and consult the varied tastes of
actors and others—or words to that effect. But he owned that he
had once serious thoughts of writing a tragedy, on the same
subject as had been so ably treated by his friend, Joanna
Baillie; meaning the “Family Legend”—founded, as I need not
say, on a true story. Sir W. said, had he gone on with his
tragedy, (I think he had begun it,) he should have had _no love
in it_. His hero should have been the uncle of the heroine, a
sort of misanthrope, with only one affection in his heart, love
for his niece, like a solitary gleam of sunshine, gilding the
dark tower of some ruined and lonely dwelling! Never shall
I—never _can_ I, forget the fine expression of his lifted eye,
as he uttered this! The whole face became elevated in its
character, and even the features acquired a dignity and grace
from the power of genius! How fortunate did I consider myself in
having that morning been favoured with a specimen of his _two_
manners, if I may so express myself.
In the autumn of this year Mrs. Opie went to Edinburgh; and she has
given a short account of this visit, in connexion with her reminiscences
of Sir Walter Scott.
From my earliest days (she says) I was such an admirer of Scotch
literature and Scotch music, and I was so prepossessed in favour
of Scotland, that I have often run eagerly to the window of my
own house, only to see a Scotch drover pass by, in his blue
bonnet and plaid; and it was with gladness of heart that in the
autumn of the year I had met Sir Walter, I found myself at
liberty to visit Edinburgh! “Tell me, (said I to the
postillion,) when we reach the Tweed,” and as soon as I saw its
silver waters sparkling in the summer sun, I hailed it with
delight, and warmly congratulated myself on being, at last, in
Scotland. That day we went to Dryburgh; I had seen the Earl of
Buchan at my own house, in London, when he was in England; and,
having promised to return his call at the first opportunity, I
went, at the end of sixteen years, to perform my promise, and
was most kindly received. Before dinner was served, we went to
see the grounds and the beautiful ruins of the abbey, where was
pointed out to us the part of the ruin apportioned off for the
place of interment of Sir W. Scott and his descendants.
During the nine days I remained in Edinburgh, Sir W. did not
come thither; so that I had no opportunity of seeing him; but I
had the pleasure of sitting opposite Raeburn’s picture of him
every day, at the house of my kind host Constable, whose guest I
was. Eagerly did I tell every body who would listen to me, of my
meeting him in London, and of the impression which he made on
me: but I was mortified when, on my praising the beauty of his
countenance, under strong excitement, and the fire of his blue
grey eye, Dr. Brown, the celebrated professor, interrupted me
with, “Nay, nay, Mrs. Opie, do not go on with these flights of
fancy; the face is nothing but a roast-beef and plum-pudding
face, say what you will!” Whatever that face was, would I had
had the happiness of seeing it again! However, the remembrance
of the enjoyment which that morning at Mount street gave me, I
treasure as one of the greatest which was ever afforded me, by
worldly intercourse.
This year was published “Valentine’s Eve,” a tale in three volumes,
interesting as shewing the state of her religious feelings at the time
it was written. The lesson it inculcates is the superiority of religious
principle as a rule of action, and as a support under affliction and
unmerited calumny. The heroine of the story, pronouncing her conviction
that “moral virtues are only durable and precious as they are derived
from religious belief and the consequence of it,” says,
Some suppose that morality can stand alone without the aid of
religion, and even fancy that republican firmness will enable us
to bear affliction; but _I_ feel that the only refuge in sorrow
and in trial, is the Rock of Ages, and the promises of the
gospel.
In 1817 Mrs. Opie made an excursion into Sussex, and among other
friends, visited Mr. Hayley. In consequence, she says, of this
gentleman’s flattering mention of her in the twelfth edition of his
“Triumphs of Temper,” she went on a visit to his house, in the year
1814; and in his “Life,” by Dr. Johnson, there is a short sketch, from
her pen, of the manner in which they passed their time, during that and
subsequent visits she paid him. “In 1816,” (writes Mrs. O.) “I went to
Scotland, and did not see Eartham till 1817. I then found Mr. Hayley was
become fond of seeing occasional visitors; but, for the most part, our
life was as unvaried as it had been in my former visits to him.” She
corresponded with him after leaving him, and fulfilled the promise she
had made, to send him her portrait. He acknowledged the receipt of this
picture, in a letter, from which we give an extract.
* * * * I rejoice that a petty incident prevented my letter from
beginning its travels yesterday; for, in the evening, the
eagerly expected portrait arrived: a fine head nobly painted in
the _gusto grande_!
After assigning to it, this early morn, its proper station, in
an excellent light, your paternal hermit burst into the
following extempore benedictions, in contemplating his
_carissima figlia_.
Thy portrait, dear Amelia, in my sight,
My eyes are charmed with beauty’s blooming flower;
But when thy books my sympathy excite,
I feel thy genius, the sublimer power;
Pleased, of thy various charms to bless the whole,
I praise thy form, and idolize thy soul;
Such worship’s thine, from “threescore and eleven,”
Whose higher adoration mounts to heaven.
I can devise no better mode of expressing my gratitude to you
for this delightful proof of your filial regard, than by putting
into the case, which conveyed you to my cell, that sweet
picture[22] of Virgil’s Tomb, by my friend of Derby, which I had
long intended as a legacy for you; yet some time must elapse
before the picture can arrive at Norwich, because it is to halt
on its transit through London, at the house of a very amiable
young artist, who is to execute for me a _diminutive_ copy of
it, as a companion to another small picture. And now I must
hastily say _addio carissima_! not to lose the post of to-day.
_Addio._
In October of this year Mr. Hayley wrote:—[23]
“I have much enjoyed a social visit of several weeks, from our
admirable Amelia Opie, who, after having kindly devoted some
pleasant months to various friends, in her excursion, is just
settling herself at home again, with a mind well prepared to
exert its powers in several projected works, that will, I trust,
in due time, afford a copious supply of pleasure and instruction
to the literary world.”
In 1818 Mrs. Opie published her “Tales of the Heart,” probably one of
the works alluded to in this letter. In the first volume of this series
there are two, entitled, “The Odd Tempered Man,” and “White Lies.” The
former of these, is an original picture of an eccentric phase of the
infirmities of temper; to the latter Mrs. O. evidently refers in the
following letter to Mr. Hayley:—
Norwich, 24th Jan., 1819.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
You are too just to expect that the author of “White Lies,” the
_tale_, should be guilty of “White Lies,” the _fault_—therefore
though I can, _en toute sureté de conscience_ say, that I was
very glad to hear from you again, yet I must own that I did not
feel your excuses for not having written _at all_ satisfactory.
* * * I am going to send you (perhaps to-morrow) some dried
apples, apples being once more plentiful here; and the box will
also contain an etching of my dear father, from a drawing by my
husband: it is like, but _too full_ about the _jawbone_, and my
father’s hair must have been by accident rough, when my husband
drew him; _now_ it is close to his head, and his head is well
shaped. However, on the whole, it is very like, and the etching
does credit to the artist, a lady, the wife of Dawson Turner,
and a most admirable person she is. * * * My father is now,
blessed be God! quite well, in all respects; but soon after my
return home in July he sprained his ancle, and was lame, unwell,
dispirited, and broken down in mind and body _for weeks, nay
months_, and I suffered _much_, but he now _walks_ well, and
_is_ well, and enjoys himself. Farewell!
Believe me ever affectionately yours,
A. OPIE.
William Hayley, Esq., near Chichester.
Shortly after the date of this letter, Mrs. Opie was alarmed by tidings
of the severe illness of her aged friend; she says, (in the sketch given
in Hayley’s life before referred to,) “I went down to Bognor, not
certain that I should not arrive too late to see him; but I found him
out of danger, and had the happiness of returning to London at the end
of the week, leaving him recovering. But I saw him no more. He died in
November of the following year.”
Another of her old friends (Mrs. Inchbald) wrote to her this year, under
the pressure of a malady beneath which she speedily succumbed. She wrote
again, for the last time, at the Christmas of the following year,
thus:—
Kensington House, 19th Dec., 1820.
MY DEAR MRS. OPIE,
Your kind Christmas-box arrived safe, and temptingly beautiful,
yesterday evening; many thanks.
We are, even in these dark and short days, as brilliant on the
high road, and in open air, as during the long and bright days
of summer and autumn. I think I never saw a more gaudy, yet
numerous and sober procession, (processions, I should say, for
they lasted from morning till night,) than passed the house
yesterday. I think myself particularly fortunate in the place of
my abode, on this account. The present world is such a fine
subject to excite intense reflection.
Mr. Kemble called on me, during the short time he was in
England; he looked remarkably well in the face, but as he walked
through the court-yard, to step into his carriage, I was
astonished to perceive him bend down his person, like a man of
eighty. How, I wonder, does she support her banishment from
England? He has sense and taste to find “books in the running
brooks, and good in everything.”
By the bye, your books are lying on the table of our drawing
room most days, and I hear great praise of them; and yet I do
not feel the slightest curiosity to open one of them. The reason
is, there are also a hundred of Sir Walter Scott’s in the same
place, and as it is impossible to read _all_, I have no wish to
read _any_; for to read without judging, is to read without
amusement; and how can I judge without comparing, detecting
likenesses, or admiring originality? Besides, I have so many
reflections concerning a _future_ world, as well as concerning
the _present_, and there are, on that awful subject, so many
books still unread, that I think every moment lost, which
impedes my gaining information from holy and learned authors.
It rains, and I fear I cannot send my letter to the post by a
safe hand, till fine weather. My best compliments to Dr.
Alderson, and believe me,
Yours most sincerely,
E. INCHBALD.
She died in 1821. Mrs. Opie had not been aware of her illness, and wrote
on the 9th of August to Mr. Phillips, thus:—
DEAR SIR,
The paper of to-day contains an account of the _funeral_ of Mrs.
Inchbald, and I had heard neither of her illness, nor her death!
I need not say how shocked and sorry I am; and I take the
liberty of requesting that you will be so kind as to give me
some account of her illness, last moments, &c.
I have not seen her this year, because I _now never leave my
father_, and have been in Norwich almost ever since I saw her
last, which was last September. Pray excuse, &c.
Yours respectfully,
A. OPIE.
G. Phillips, Esq.,
Surgeon to his Majesty, Carlton Palace.
-----
[20] The friendship between Dr. Alderson and the Gurney family was
indeed of very early date; for when Mr. John Gurney, senior, first hired
Earlham, he invited Mr. and Miss Alderson to go and see the place, which
they did; Mr. A. on horseback, and Miss, on her little pony, by his
side. They drank tea with Mr. G. in a room afterwards known as the
ante-room, the only place where there was a seat to be had.
[21] Mrs. Opie has marked a large (!) against these words.
[22] This picture Mrs. Opie in her will bequeathed to “her friend Thos.
Brightwell.” It is by Wright, of Derby, and is curious, as attempting to
give the three effects of moonlight, fire-light, and twilight, in the
same piece.
[23] See Memoirs of Wm. Hayley, vol. 2, p. 191.