Once, as I was walking round the room, the Duchess of S., leaning on a gentleman’s arm, curtsied to me, (for the first time in her life,) with a most sweet smile. I acknowledged her curtsey, regardless of the gentleman with her, and, indeed, not seeing him; but he said, “what! do you not choose to see and acknowledge an old friend?” I started, and beheld Lord Morpeth! Surprized, and thrown off my guard, I exclaimed, “Oh! dear Lord Morpeth! how glad I am to see thee!” eagerly accepting his proffered hand. “Then you have not forgotten old times?” * * * I then told him I had heard him speak in the morning, and we talked of the meeting, as very interesting: “but,” I said, “I thought it was rather venturesome, if I may so say, to allude so much to the state of affairs in France.” He gave me a look I did not quite understand, but replied, “perhaps there was somewhat too much of that;” and I was told by the Bishop of Winchester, (with whom I dined the next day) that Lord M. in his speech, had given the tone to the other speeches; but Lord M.’s speech was not such, as to have drawn forth what I disapproved,—the speeches of La Harpe, and others; however, everything was approved by the meeting, and the French goings-on delighted in, as leading to an increased spread of the Bible! We then talked a little more, and parted. Lord M. insisting on it, that I used to be at Milcham School with Mathews, the great ventriloquist, and I saying, “no, no, I disown Mathews entirely!” Long have I wished to renew acquaintance with this good man, and at last I have, under pleasant circumstances. At the B. and F. School Meeting, where he was chairman, I sat nearly under the chair, and had a most kind bow from him, which I as cordially returned.
Last sixth day (yesterday week) I dined at Sir J. Boileau’s, and met Guizot, the American Ambassador, and our Bishop. After dinner, we all went to the Royal Institution, to hear a Lecture on the Greek Anthology, by a Mr. Newton, and I had the pleasure of taking the Bishop with me, in my carriage.
Lady C. B. and I sat on a form near the lecturer; in front of him was another chair, for the President, the Duke of Northumberland; and on a chair, placed on his right hand, was Guizot; on his left the American Ambassador—par conséquent, we conceived this was meant as a compliment to Guizot, who seems much noticed. The private view of the Exhibition I rejoiced in, till the people came, (but I believe I wrote an account of all this to Lucy,) Sir R. Inglis followed up his kindness to me there, by calling; and Lady Gurney, myself, and Russell, were there this day week; a most pleasant evening to me, for I met old friends, and among them, the British Minister, Morier, and his family, whom I first knew at Paris, as Consul-General, and afterwards, as our Envoy at Berne.
Now, to finish with my visit at Claremont. The ex-Queen fixed the day and hour, by Madame de Montjoye, her Lady; I hired a clarence and two horses, and borrowed J. Bell’s servant; and, in a broiling day, set off on my fifteen miles’ journey! Madame de M. came to me first, and said the Queen would soon come to me; she did, and I cannot express my feeling, when I thought of the change in her position since we met! I could scarcely speak, while she pressed my hands most affectionately, and called me “ma chère, bonne Opie, que vous êtes bonne, de venir me voir!” at last, she sat, and desired I would do the same. Madame de M., had previously told me they had heard of the Duchess of Orléans that day, and that she was in Germany. I can’t now tell you all the conversation. The first question was, “I hope you are writing? you know I read and like all you write.” I replied that I did not write, and so on. * * * After half an hour, she rose, and said she was very sorry to go, but she must, because she had letters to write, which were to go to Paris that morning; again she took my hands and pressed them to her heart; I not being able to speak, from rising tears. At length I got out, that “les paroles me manquoient et que je ne pouvais pas exprimer les sentiments que j’eprouvois;” and I almost wished to kiss, as well as press the hand I held; as she disappeared, she said, “souvenez vous, et ecrivez encore, ecrivez toujours!” Madame de Montjoye gave me her arm, to the other room, and we parted most cordially. * * *
Thy attached friend,
A. Opie.
Mrs. Opie’s stay in London was cut short by her increasing indisposition. She had prepared to go on a visit to Mr. S. Gurney, when (on the 7th July) she had a severe access of her disorder, and Sir Benjamin Brodie recommending rest and quiet, after a week’s nursing, she returned to Norwich.
| [44] | She patronized the old custom of sending valentines, (which is much kept up in Norwich,) and on one occasion, wrote some droll verses, which she got copied and sent to some young friends, who, presently after, hastened with their puzzling billet-doux to her, that she might help them to guess who could possibly have sent them! She did so enjoy the fun of mystifying them with her guesses! |
| [45] | The lines alluded to in this letter are given in chapter XX. Mrs. O. had forgotten that she had written them until reminded of them by her friend. |