CHAPTER XIV.
CONSOLATION IN SORROW; LETTER TO A FRIEND; JOURNAL FOR THE YEAR 1827.
* * * * * *
In the months that followed her father’s death, Mrs. Opie, though suffering deeply, was sustained by her faith in the promises of Him whose voice she had heard and obeyed, and for whose service she had renounced the approval and the pleasures of the world. In the kindness and sympathy of her friends she found comfort, and thankfully acknowledged that there is “good in friendship, and delight in holy love,” and, in her turn, she sought to “bind up the heart that was broken,” and to minister to the consolation of others—one of the surest and best means of obtaining relief under the pressure of sorrow. It is impossible to read her journals and letters of this time, without recognizing in them a depth of piety, that could only spring from a Divine source. Her tender compassion for the afflicted, and her labours of love, in visiting the sick, the prisoner, and the necessitous, remind one of Horace Walpole’s words to Hannah More, “Your heart is always aching for others, and your head for yourself.”
The following letter is almost the only record of the year that followed Dr. Alderson’s death; it was addressed to a lady to whom she was much attached, and who afterwards came to live in Norwich. When she died, Mrs. Opie’s letters to her were returned, and some of them will be found occasionally in these pages.
Norwich, 3rd mo., 26th, 1826.
My beloved Friend,
* * * I had thought that I could never feel anything again, but thy news really affected me! I am, I own, uneasy at the idea of thy suffering; but thy present sweet, spiritual, and submitted state of mind, will, I doubt not, strew thy path with those unfading flowers, which, blown here, will blossom to all eternity, and sooth and cheer thy passage to the tomb.
For a year at least, my place of abode must be unfixed; it may be London; in that case, I should be near thee: but when we meet we will speculate on the earthly future, which is equally uncertain to us both.
What a mercy it is, dear friend, that thou wast enabled, through faith, to bear thy apparent sentence, so abruptly pronounced. In nothing are the Lord’s dealings with us so wonderful and gracious, as when he enables us to bear trials, which we should once have expected to shrink from and to sink under. How I have been permitted to experience this!
My health is quite restored, my recent journey having, I trust, been beneficial. On my way home I was alone from Scole to Norwich, with a young man apparently dying of decline, and I felt it a duty to talk on serious subjects; and found him, I trust, teachable, and I promised to send him J. J. Gurney’s Letters and others. He was so delighted! but, poor thing, he was full of hopes of recovery. I have been tolerably tranquil for some days; and to-day I visited my dear father’s grave! he hoped I would sometimes do so! I felt peace both for him and myself, while I looked on it, and looked forward with cheerfulness to sleeping beside him! H. Girdlestone comforted me much, the other day, by reminding me how often in mercy the child was summoned away soon after the parent! The idea brought closer the prospects of eternity, and the necessity, therefore, of preparation, as more urgent, that the day’s work may be done in the day. May my attention be fixed on present duty, that my remaining time may be usefully and well spent, and that I may be ready when the summons shall come to call me hence.
J. J. Gurney is on a long and distant journey; when he returns, and when we meet, which may not be for two months, if I can say ought to him for thee, command me.
Farewell, write soon, thine affectionately,
A. Opie.
In the autumn of this year, Mrs. Opie went on a visit to some friends residing near the Lakes. The change of scene, and friendly intercourse, were beneficial to her; and she returned refreshed to her now solitary home.
From this time she kept an occasional diary, in which she noted the events of each day; from these records we select some portions, commencing with one headed,
1827, My Journal, New Year’s Day.—Too unwell to venture to the Sick Poor Committee to-day. Sorry to begin the year with the omission of a duty. My aunt and other friends called; also the dear Earlham children—welcome visitants! Day calm, on the whole, but was not quite satisfied with myself; nay, was far otherwise. Read the 46th psalm to the servants; felt the force of “Peace, be still, and know that I am God,” and also the comfort of “God is our refuge,” &c.
(2nd of 1st mo.) Rose better in health, after a peaceful night, and felt calm and thankful. Walked to Bracondale and made calls there, and attended the Infant School Committee. Was, in the evening, at a party; the conversation not general, but rather pleasant. I could have wished not to have left the vicinity of ——, who always talks well, but was obliged, through courtesy, to change my seat. I believe things and public persons, not private individuals, were talked of; this is always desirable, but rare. Had only time to read a psalm to the servants, being so late, which I regret. On looking over the day, I am not sure it was better spent; in one respect, I had, indeed, more self-blame to undergo. Night peaceful and favoured, when I awoke, which was not often; but my morning thoughts full of painful recollections of little slights and trials. Oh! my pride of heart! not subdued yet: “Oh! for a broken contrite heart.”
(4th.) Had a sweet, sleepful, and favoured night; but have passed a self-indulgent day. Read F. Hemans’ poetry; it is unique and exquisite, and breathing always of salvation and heaven. How have I thrown away my time to-day; done nothing of my book, except writing the introduction to a fable for it; but have written two necessary letters. Felt comfort while reading A. L. Barbauld’s beautiful hymn on charity, “Behold where breathing love divine!” I hoped I was not slow to kind offices; but other convictions kept me full of counteracting humility. Sent dear S. M. B. some pomegranates. How pleased I am when I can shew her and dear A. G. any attention. How much were they to me in my darkest hours; how true and tender their sympathy! never to be forgotten. How can I help feeling for them who felt so much for me?
(4th day.) Rose calm and comforted; had, on the whole, a good and comforting meeting, though no ministry; called on my aunt and the N. Whites. A very unprofitable day, meeting time excepted; I grow worse, I fear, rather than better. I am so dissatisfied with myself, that I dare hardly ask or expect a blessing on my labours. How cold and dead in the spirit I feel to-night; but I know “we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous,” and how I need one!
(5th.) A good and comfortable night, and rose in spirits, but felt unwilling to work at my book. Dear friends called; had a kind odd letter from H. T., and so characteristic! Made myself finish another fable for my work, and liked it. Just come from dining at Neville W.’s with his mother and sisters—enjoyed my visit. On the whole, more satisfied with this day than the preceding one; but I am very lazy, and like in spirit to Festus, of whom I have just been reading, when he said to Paul, that he would send for him, and hear him, at a convenient season. Oh! that deferring.
(6th.) Rose, refreshed by a good night, and willing to perform my duties. Wrote some verses for a friend’s album, and improved my fable of the Lapdog and the Ass. Went to the jail, and found the woman in bed: read to and exhorted her. She seemed in a promising state of mind. Went next to visit a poor woman, but felt she and her husband were not so much interested as when I was there before. Called on my aunt: she gave a poor account of my uncle. Poor M. B.! his interesting son Edward worse, and no chance of aught but a protracted life of suffering, likely to end in early death: may he be preserved in his day of trial. Have passed this evening in alternate reading and writing, but not of a profitable nature; however, I like my verses very well. This day there has been some performance of duty, but, on the whole, it marks no progress in grace. To-morrow is first day; may I keep it holy.
(7th of the month, 1st day.) A quiet night, and very satisfactory morning meeting. J. S. had to speak in rather long quotations from the Scriptures, and spoke, I think, to edification. No other ministry—felt no want of any. Afternoon meeting still, but not long, like the morning one. Read dear S. M. B. on the Sabbath; then read the first part of Mary Dudley’s Life; felt true unity with her experience when first called to the ministry. What a bright course was hers! Wrote a serious letter, with Scripture quotations, to L. E., with two copies of J. J. Gurney’s letter: may the gift be blessed to him! Read about eighty pages of a book lent me by Dr. Ash, called “The Grounds of a Holy Life.” Believe the author to be a Friend in principle, if not in profession. Read Paul’s fine address to Agrippa to the servants, and remarks on Paul’s letter to Titus, by H. Tarford; hope they understood it; it explains the nature of grace, and clearly. Cough very troublesome. Now to bed, thankful for the mercies and favours of the day. The poor Duke of York! would I knew what his death-bed feelings and hopes were, and on what grounded.
(8th.) Rose unwell; but my mind was particularly calm. Finished M. R. Mitford’s pretty book, and wrote out my new fable. After tea wrote two sheets of my new book. Heard of poor Lady H.’s death. How I feel for her childless, fond mother! and how thankful that I was permitted to live to cheer my dear father’s age, and attend his dying bed, much as I have suffered, and still suffer, for his loss.
(9th.) Wrote a good deal in the morning. Lady H. not dead; how glad I am! Too hoarse at night to read much to the servants. On the whole went to bed rather pleased with my day, but expecting to cough.
(11th.) Meeting a very satisfactory one. C. came and sat an hour or two. Got, alas! on religious subjects; a most painful conversation; but I was made, I hope, beneficially sensible, how poor a pleader I am, as yet, in the best of causes; but I tried to do it justice. Went to my uncle’s at nine; passed a pleasant evening, but was detained by a dangerous accident to H. P.’s coachman, and I waited to hear how he was. Did not get home till half-past eleven. Read to the servants, and sent them to bed. Sat up in my own room and read the second volume of A.’s, that it might not encroach on the business of the morrow. Read a psalm and went to bed, not dissatisfied with my day; but feeling how wrong it is to let a day pass without employing it really well. Mem. made a resolution not to speak slightingly again of —— if I can help it. (12th.) Had a bad night, but rose with a thankful spirit, I trust. Staid at home all the morning, and wrote some of my book. Had the joy of hearing of E. P.’s safe confinement. Went to Lady J. W.’s, met several friends, and had a pleasant evening; E. M. played admirably. Read as usual, and to bed, thankful that I had passed so favoured a day. (13th.) Rose late, and was the better for my morning sleep. Wrote to several friends, and in the evening had a small party. Made two good likenesses, as they said.[[26]]
(14th.) A night of cough, but of comfort; and rose in spirits; a painfully windy walk to meeting; an agreeable surprise there. J. J. G. returned this morning unexpectedly from London. He was much favoured in his ministry to-day, morning and evening. Called on poor old B., and read the 43rd of Isaiah to him. Called on poor P. U., found her very low indeed, and no wonder; these are early times with her yet, poor bereaved being! The sight of such upsetting and destroying grief is very affecting, and I have only too much sympathy with her. We have both lost our earthly all! Was prevented, by the weather, from calling on the M.s, and it was fortunate, as the wind had brought down their chimnies in a most destructive manner, though providentially no lives were lost, as they had taken alarm and removed the children. “His tender mercies are over all his works!” A quiet evening; read to the servants; hope they understood. (15th.) Coughed all night, and unable, alas! to go to E., but when I had recovered the disappointment, passed some tranquil and agreeable hours. I read “Galt’s Life of Wolsey” with interest. To bed thankful, and rather better; could only read a psalm to the servants. (16th.) Rose rather better, but not well enough to go to E.; wrote a great deal of my book, to carry to-morrow, if well enough to go. Read through my own “Temper,” never saw so many faults in it before; still I like some of the remarks on detraction so well, that I think of inserting them in my new book. Shall lay my head on my pillow with less self-blame for the faults of the day than usual. (17th.) Rose refreshed, and better than for many days; went to E., and enjoyed being with my dear friends again. I had a long tête à tête with J. J. G., and read my MS. to him, he did not approve it as a whole; thought the tone too low generally, but liked parts of it; I shall leave out and amend much. Read a psalm in my own room to my maid, and went to bed full of good resolutions, and ardent desires and prayers to be satisfied in them. (18th.) Rose refreshed, not gay, but very peaceful; went to meeting, very still and solemn; a time of precious, conscious favour to me. J. J. G. spoke quite to my state, the first time he rose; and I felt the force of the admonition the second time; but I had had no work to do, and left meeting, so far, with a clean conscience. I called on friends, and sat some time with my aunt, E. A.; to bed with much comfort and thankfulness. (19th.) To Earlham with J. J. G., and read my MS. to him and the sisters; they were all very encouraging; with what a thankful heart I am going to rest! (21st.) Left Earlham grateful for many happy hours spent there. Came to meeting; J. J. G. particularly favoured in his ministry; painful to me to break up. Alone all the afternoon and evening; read in the Italian Bible; am going to bed comforted and thankful; but had, at morning meeting, one of my paroxysms of regret for ill-fulfilled duties, and was brought very low; “but He helped me,” and all is peace again, and I shall lie down in quiet. (22nd.) An unsatisfactory day, except as I read in my Italian Bible, and to the servants. (23rd.) Tranquil at rising, and wrote all the morning, till I went to E., where I met Lady H. G., D. G., and dear A. G.; a happy day! and am going to bed thankful. (24th.) Obliged to leave E., preferred doing so; I wanted to go home to draw U. M. for her dying lover; I succeeded entirely, they thought; felt thankful to be so enabled. (25th.) To meeting, a marriage there. I went a round of visiting invalid friends, and a poor woman; in the afternoon, went out again and visited another afflicted invalid. Felt my mind tenderly impressed with pity, and with thankfulness for my own health. Saw dear O. A. Woodhouse, glad to see him for many sakes; evening, wrote, and to bed at eleven, most thankful and peaceful. (26th.) Going to dine at E. with a crowd.—The party tolerably agreeable, considering its size; a day, not entirely lost, I trust. (27th.) Went to the jail, and had a satisfactory meeting with the women there. To bed not satisfied with myself. (28th.) Meeting a most favoured one; dear J. J. G. very impressive and affecting, with a view to his departure for Ireland; wrote to H. G., and received from him a most satisfactory answer, authorizing me to draw on him for ——’s wants; how kind! like him! thankful am I, that I have been the means of serving her! to bed peaceful and thankful. (30th.) Rose well and happy, and settled my weekly accounts; in the evening wrote letters. I have been comforted all day through the tender sorrowful remembrance of him who is gone; and the memory of his deep and ever-enduring and unselfish love, is frequently recurring and clinging to me; and death alone, I believe, can ever banish him from my daily and fond, grateful recollection; but, “it is well;” I can say so, from the bottom of my heart, and though I remain, I murmur not—now to bed, with thankfulness, though with tears.
(1st February, 2nd mo.) Not much sleep in the night; a pleasant breakfast, and most refreshing sweet meeting. Tears would flow, but was able to supplicate for our dear departing friends, and to return thanks for being able to part with them so cheerfully. Two years ago, how I should have felt it, on mine and my dearest father’s account; but I feel indifferent whether he be here when I die, or not. * * Now to bed, calm and thankful. An idle, I fear, and, so far, a sinful day; gave £1 to a case that touched me; was I fear, too much, but could not help it. (2nd.) O. Woodhouse here; glad to feel that a son of my beloved cousin, and bearing his name, is under my roof! Our evening has been placid, part spent in talk, and part in reading. Now to bed, rather depressed that I have done nothing to-day to improve myself, except reading in the Bible—I begin to feel that my time must be made profitable, or I cannot be happy; my solitary evenings are my happiest time, and shortest, because employed! Oh! that I had earlier thought thus. Then would “my peace have been as a river, and my righteousness as the waves of the sea”—perhaps—but I am, and was, vile. (3rd.) Forced myself to go and see, and minister to the wants of, some poor people. (4th.) Meeting, a mixed one of favoured and wandering thoughts; L. A. very sweet in her ministry. (5th.) Rose cheerful, went to visit various friends. To my dear father’s grave, and the other graves of those dear to me; how I wished he might see me, and read my heart. Went and read to the poor widow B., and visited others. (6th.) Rose well, and cheerful. Went to call on that wretched girl in the workhouse. She cried, but I believe she wished to see me only to get money. Mean to get the prayer-book I gave her out of pawn. The committee of the new Magdalen met here to-day. I like the matron.
On the 7th inst., Mrs. Opie went to visit her friends at Northrepps; each day has its entry. She was evidently cheered, and her spirits revived and braced by this visit. Returning home on the 23rd of the month, her last entry there is—“I leave N. C. with a heart full of grateful love to its dear possessors. Alas! to bed for the last time here this year, and, perhaps, for ever! Peace be to this house!”
(Journal resumed at home.)
(Norwich, 24th.) Had, as usual, some paroxysms of agonizing feeling, at missing the object once there to meet me, yet grateful to find kind and affectionate friends here. All things here, right and well; to bed, with a grateful heart for the mercies shewn me, and the blessings that remain. (25th.) A good night, and a thankful waking. Enjoyed meeting much, called at the workhouse, &c. Afternoon meeting silent, but I trust refreshing. Evening a comfortable reading to the servants. (26th.) A good and favoured night, rose happy. * * * Wrote letters. A time of storm and calm; one of my paroxysms of grief for the dead, and self-blame for omitted duty, succeeded by calm and peacefulness. (27th.) Paid three visits of charity. Went to the workhouse; saw the child, and thought her, perhaps obstinate, but quite an object of pity and interest; thought her, too, going into a decline; carried her coquilles and oranges. Saw P. C.; death was in her face, seemingly, and seemingly contrite; but even then, I find, she told me a lie. Not to be believed for a word’s speaking! Oh that workhouse! “There’s something rotten in the state of Denmark!” Spent a happy evening; good intentions, if not good deeds. (28th.) A good night and bright awaking. * * Dined at Earlham. Next day very pleasant. (2nd.) A good night, and much thankfulness on waking. Wrote a “Tale of Truth.” To the workhouse. After a happy evening alone, to bed, in great peace of mind. (4th.) Meeting very still and refreshing; L. A. much favoured. Wrote several verses to the memory of Bishop Heber. (5th of the 3rd mo.) Had a good night, and peace of mind, when awake. Visited poor B., and admired his thankfulness for living where he can see the blue sky, and the birds, and a rainbow, as he lies in bed! Went to Sick Poor Committee. Monthly Meeting, too low to enjoy it. One of my sad, sad fits of regret for omitted filial duties, and for things done and undone, said and unsaid; but feel this ever recurring trial to be inflicted in mercy, and to keep me lowly and humble before my Creator. Fear, however, that the feeling increases, and that it may be a temptation. Find what H. Girdlestone said to me once, the most comforting reply to my fears of omitted duty, “You seem to have expected that a sinful being should have performed a duty perfectly; but it was not in nature to do it.” Well! I have only to hope that my agonies and tears may be an accepted sacrifice, and that they may keep me humble, as they spring from a sense of my own vileness. To bed early, as I dare not risk a recurrence of my lowness, and sleep may come soon. (6th.) A good night, rose cheerful. Went to the Committee of Infant School, and took the week’s visiting there. S. Rose with me in the evening. Calm and thankful. (7th.) Infant School; thought the children improved, but yet troublesome and disobedient. To the Magdalen Committee—not quite satisfied. (8th.) Rose cheerful, and eager for meeting. On the whole, satisfactory; Monthly Meeting, though, rather long. Read some books from London in the evening—did not like them; dissatisfied with so employing my time. (10th.) Rose early. Bought cakes for the children, and went to Infant School. Thence to the jail: found two new women there; read and talked to them seriously. Had tea alone. Cucchi called in the evening; read two psalms aloud, in Italian, to him, and translated them. (13th.) To the School: class attentive and orderly; a cake each, to the children; sale of work afterwards. Came home to dress. Both my friends looking well and in high spirits; felt thankful to see them so; all good be with them! Dined at my uncle’s at six. * * * Finished reading the “Hedge of Thorns” to the servants. (14th.) To Earlham; a most happy time there. (15th.) Ditto.
(Journal discontinued, till the 13th April.)
(April 14th.) Rose low and self-abased. At the jail, read tracts to the women, and the Prodigal Son; was satisfied with the manner of two of them; but have no faith in their amendment, in one way, while the turnkeys are men, and men on business are admitted, where women could do as well; but this is, I fear, a thing which will never be remedied. * * (15th, 1st day.) A sweet, favoured meeting. Silence, I trust, blest to me; the ministry lively and touching. My Cousin R. to tea; went over his sermon with him; time went unconsciously. (16th.) Letters and calls. After dinner went to sit by poor E. D.’s bedside, read several hymns to her; she bade me, I believe, what she thought, a last farewell! She is on the Rock, and one ought not to regret her. What a sweet letter Edward Irving has written to her! * * * * To bed, thankful, instructed, I hope, and cheered. (19th.) Rose before seven, and lighted my fire; wrote till half-past eight. Meeting a favoured one.—“The fire on the altar.” Called on A. B., an interesting woman, and wish I could do more for her. She has been used to such excellent society, and an object of interest and kindness to so many. She talks rapidly, and raises her voice sometimes, as all nervous people do; I wonder whether checking her, and saying “do not talk so fast!” would do her good. Not intimate enough yet to risk it. Lost a great deal of time to-day reading an old favourite—displeased and shocked even, at my waste of time, and my life so far spent! “God be merciful to me a sinner!” my constant and necessary close of every day’s and night’s prayer. (21st.) Went out on H. G.’s business. How pleasant to have to give pleasure, whether with my own or others’ money! Poor —— might indeed be grateful to him. Went after a poor man, but could not find him; probably only a street beggar. Went to poor A. B.; what a sufferer! but resigned. Called on my aunt, sorry I could not stay with her. To bed, with many pleasing feelings, thankful for unmerited mercies. What a generous Master we serve!
(6th of the 5th mo.) What indolence and neglect! from 21st of last mo. not a line written in my journal! Oh for power to be more diligent in future; but how soon, through life, have I been weary in well doing! To-day, felt solemnly and deeply engaged, in secret prayer, at meeting. Yesterday —— and —— to dinner; how little either of them, poor things, seemed to think of their great change! though one is 76, the other 73. Dress, cards, the world! But let me look to my own blindness and worldliness, and not censure theirs; and to me the voice has spoken, “Come,” and how have I obeyed it? Alas! Visited a sick friend and a poor lost girl, just released from jail; read Rutherford’s letters all the afternoon: wrote for votes for a charity-boy; read to the servants, and to bed, not so dissatisfied as usual with my day’s work; may I be humbled, and enabled to rise early to my work to-morrow, and may the labours of my pen be blest!
(3rd day, 7th.) Rose early; to Infant School; little boys idle and ignorant in my class! one, however, good and diligent; then called on A. B., found her low for her dear sister’s death, but enjoyed my call. Went to the jail, have hopes of one woman; the other is sorry for detection, not for sin; but these are early times yet; her temper seems bad, i.e. if expression is to be trusted; two calls on my way home. Tired, but not displeased with my day. * * *
The Journal here breaks off, not to be renewed (as a note, added at the close, tells us) until 1829, “in another book.” We shall close this chapter with an extract from a letter written in the autumn of this year, to her friends at Northrepps Cottage.
* * * How every day teems with eventful changes; F. and C., dear ones, have to inhabit a new abode; but death, death is the change of changes! How trumpery, how unimportant, seem all changes compared to that; and how that changes even the very look of existence to many of us! Sometimes it is almost unbearable to me; and I could run into the next room to look for what I cannot find, and cannot see again, and which yet seems blooming beside me, and cheerful, and living, and likely to live! and then I think how little I prized him while I had him with me! Oh! you know some of these feelings, and can deeply sympathize with me in what a child alone can feel. How deeply have I entered into the feelings of my estimable friend T. R., (an only child,) on the loss of his mother, who lived with him; I expressed my feelings as follows:—
At length, then, the tenderest of mothers is gone!
Her smile, her love-accents, can glad thee no more;
That once cheerful chamber is silent and lone,
And, for thee, all a child’s precious duties are o’er.
Her welcome at morning, her blessing at night,
No longer the crown of thy comforts can be;
And the friend seen and lov’d, since thine eyes first saw light,
Thou can’st ne’er see again! thou art orphan’d like me.
O change! from which nature must shrink overpower’d,
Till faith shall the anguish remove and condemn,
For the change to those blest ones “who die in the Lord,”
Though to us it brings sorrow, gives glory to them.
9th mo., 1827.
| [26] | Mrs. Opie is constantly mentioning the likenesses she takes of her various friends. It was her custom, from a very early period, to take profile likenesses, in pencil, of those who visited her. Several hundreds of these sketches were preserved in books and folios. |