“While Freedom shriek’d as Kosciusko fell!”
Instantly forgetting the ambassador, and, I fear, the proper restraints of politeness, I took my husband’s arm, and accompanied him to get a nearer view of the Polish patriot, so long the object to me of interest and admiration. I had so often contemplated a print of him in his Polish dress, which hung in my own room, that I thought I should have known him again anywhere; but whether it was owing to the difference of dress, I know not, but I saw little or no resemblance in him to the picture. He was not much above the middle height, had high cheek bones, and his features were not of a distinguished cast; with the exception of his eyes, which were fine and expressive, and he had a high healthy colour. His forehead was covered by a curled auburn wig, much to my vexation, as I should have liked to have seen its honourable scar. But his appearance was pleasing, his countenance intellectual, his carriage dignified; and we were very glad, when our obliging hostess, by introducing us, gave us an opportunity of entering into conversation with him. He spoke English as well as we did, and with an English accent. On our expressing our surprise at this unusual circumstance, he said he had learned English in America. The tone of his voice was peculiar, and not pleasing; however, it was Kosciusko who spoke, and we listened with interest and pleasure; though, at this distance of time, I am unable to say on what subject we conversed. What I am going to relate, however, it was not likely that I should forget—
During the course of the evening, while I was standing at some distance, but looking earnestly at him, and speaking to some one in his praise, contrasting, as I believe, his unspotted patriotism with the then suspected integrity of Buonaparte, he suddenly crossed the room, and coming up to me, said, “I am sure you were speaking of me, and I wish to know what you were saying.” “I dare not tell you,” replied I. “Was it so severe then?” I bade him ask my companion. And on hearing her answer he thanked me, in a tone of deep feeling. “I have a favour to beg of you,” said he, “I am told that you are a writer, pray do write some verses on me; a quatrain will be sufficient, will you oblige me?” I told him I could rarely write extempore verses, and certainly not on such a subject, as I should wish to do it all the justice possible. “Well then,” said he, “I will await your pleasure.” I saw him again only once before I returned to England; but the next time that his birthday was commemorated at Paris, I wrote some verses on the occasion, and sent them to him by a private hand.
During the rest of that memorable evening, when we had the gratification of seeing the Polish patriot and of conversing with him, I did not venture to resume the seat next the Turkish ambassador which I had so unceremoniously quitted; but I contrived to enter into conversation with the interpreter, whose handsome figure and features, added to the gracefulness of his costume, made him, next to our hostess, the most striking looking person in the assembly. He spoke French fluently, and his manner was particularly pleasing.
| [9] | Mrs. Opie published an account of this journey in Tait’s Magazine, vol. iv., 1831. From this account we have extracted several of the most interesting passages. She says, in a few prefatory remarks, that it had originally been her intention to give an account of her visit to Paris in 1829, but that, while endeavouring to do this, so many recollections of her first journey recurred to her mind, that she was induced to alter her purpose, and prefer relating the events of the earlier visit. Probably in doing this she made use of the original letters which she is known to have written home to Dr. Alderson at the time; and having done so, no longer preserved them. |
| [10] | This picture is now at Holkham. |
CHAPTER VIII.
THE REVIEW AND BUONAPARTE; “FESCH;” GENERAL MASSENA; RETURN TO ENGLAND; LETTER TO MRS. COLOMBINE; VISIT TO NORWICH; “ADELINE MOWBRAY;” LETTER TO MRS. TAYLOR; MR. ERSKINE.