In the spring of 1809 were published her husband’s “Lectures on Painting,” to which was prefixed the “Memoir,” from which we have so frequently quoted. This book was published by subscription, and some of her friends interested themselves in procuring names; one or two letters on the subject were found among her papers, and among them one from Lady Charleville, from which, as it contains some allusions to Mrs. Opie’s writings, and shews the impression her manners produced upon those with whom she associated, we venture to select a few passages.
Charleville Forest, August 23rd, 1809.
My dear Madam,
I did not expect that you could find leisure to write to me before your return to Norwich, and I feel more obliged by your not delaying it long after, than I can easily express. Your amiable, modest manners, joined to talents far beyond the pretensions of most women, attracted me immediately; and all I have seen of you, permit me to say, has so confirmed this first bias, that I do feel a sincere wish to continue to cultivate the acquaintance I have so happily begun. * * * I believe you enjoy gay scenes, and what is called pleasure, with somewhat yet of pristine vivacity. May it fulfil your hopes or wishes whatever they are! * *
Poor dear Lady Cork’s activity in pursuit of amusement is a pleasant proof of vivacity and spirit surviving youth. I think, however, small plays seldom succeed with an English audience; “la vache qui trotte,” is Rousseau’s simile for French music, and may be applied to John Bull’s facetious and playful humours quite as well; but he does very well at a concert, where some must be quiet, and I envied you that evening you described so well. * * *
Our best bookseller here has fallen into a state of epilepsy; his shop is closed, and we shall await the arrival of your last publication with impatience, through the common channel; but I think you should not have awaited Lady C.’s interference to mention its being published by subscription; as I should be happy to be considered as your friend. Neglect me so no more, I request, in this way; begin a good, long, Clarissa-like novel; you have principles and fancy to compose an elevating and interesting work, and a knowledge of the manners of the world, which Richardson wanted. Write now all the summer, and let there be no episodes, no under plot, but give me a character, acting and developing itself under a variety of circumstances, to interest my feelings and exert my understanding; and set her feet on English ground, and let us not have mystic notions, or Asiatic refinements, to perplex our intellects, too well braced by this northern temperature to sympathize with mysteries, embroideries, and odours, or start at every creaking hinge in an old castle. Miss Owenson, whom I saw in Dublin, tells me she is writing a Hindostan tale. Let’s keep plain English for yours; and believe me, in its full sincerity, your faithful servant,
C. L. Charleville.
The following letter from Mrs. Inchbald appears to have been written in the winter of this year (1809.) Its only date is Wednesday, 7th December.
My dear Mrs. Opie,
I thank you much for your letter, and especially for your consideration in telling me the secret of Mr. Barbauld’s death; for contemplation is my great source of entertainment, and the events of the day kindly afford me almost as much as I require.