terials, makes us feel the want of those touches which could only have been communicated by one living in most respects the same sort of life with Mrs. Opie. Though she returned to Norwich and her father's house as her home, she went every year to London, and entered largely into society. She wrote constantly to Dr. Alderson in absence. She mentions dinners in which Lord Dudley and Lord King, the ever-welcome Sydney Smith, Lady Crewe, the Mackintoshes, Romillys, and Lord Erskine, were guests. We can make room only for one letter, dated June 24th, 1814. My dear Father,— .. Thus far I had gotten yesterday at half-past four o'clock, when Lord Tamworth, and Mrs. L. M. after him, came in and interrupted me, and I was forced to turn the latter out that I might dress to go to Mackintosh's to dinner at six o'clock; but I consoled myself by the certainty of getting a frank. I will now go on to that of which my mind is most full, namely, my yesterday's dinner, which it was almost worth coming up to town on purpose to be at. I got to M.'s at six, the hour appointed; found no fire, alas! and no one to receive me; happily, soon after arrived Mr. Whishaw, horror-struck at no fire, and saying in all civilised houses there must be one in such weather; but he warmed himself and me by inveighing against poor Lord Cochrane's pillory, which all the lawyers, and all London, I hope, disapprove. How unwise too! for it leads us to forget his fault in his punishment-but this is by the bye. Next arrived Dr. Brown, whom I presented to Whishaw. Then came Lady M., and then Sir James, and I found three different hours for dining had been named to the different guests; and Mr. W. and I anticipated hunger being added to cold. Next came Playfair, then Richard Payne Knight, then John William Ward, just come from Paris, and lastly, at about half-past seven, the great traveller and so forth-Baron de Humboldt; he was not presented to me, therefore I could not ask whether he or his brother brought my letter from Helen Williams-and to dinner we went, Ward handing me; so I sat by him, and on my other hand was Mr. Knight. I certainly never saw so many first-rate men together; but again it would have been l'embarras de richesses with me, had not each person been a whetting-stone to the wit and information of the other. Politics, science, literature, Greek, morals, church government, infidelity, sects, philosophy, characters of the Emperor of Russia, King of Prussia, of Blucher, of Platoff, given in a clear and simple manner by the Baron, and commented on by others, formed the never-flagging discourse throughout the dinner. I did not talk much, as you may guess, for I had scarcely ears enough to listen with. Ward was more charming and more maliciously witty, more Puck-like, than I had seen him for years; and what he did not choose to venture aloud, he whispered in my ear-more agreeable than polite; but once I caught myself in an argument with Mr. Knight, and I trembled at my own temerity. Talk across the table I could not have done; but Mr. K. was my neighbour, and none but he heard my daring. I will give you one of Ward's sarcasms; but an unusually good-natured one, as it would flatter, not wound, the persons at whom it was aimed. "I hear (said I) you returned from Paris with a Cardinal." "Yes, the Cardinal Gonsalva, and I had the great satisfaction of putting him at length under the protection of a Silesian Jew." "Not being able (said Sir James) to find any Scotch philosophers at hand to take his place." • .... But had there been any Scotch philosophers to consign him to, I should still have preferred the Jew, because I know there would have been some chance of his converting the Jew." The philosophers present laughed; and this introduced a curious discussion on infidelity. (Enter the Baron de Humboldt to breakfast with me, and then I take him to Mrs. Siddons.) Alas! it was no Baronso I may go on. Ward saw Lafayette at Paris; almost the only man of a Revolulution who has survived one, and lived to enjoy life. He owned to me he did not care to see him; for, in his opinions on such a subject, he was too much of a Burkite, to relish seeing Lafayette. De Humboldt spoke highly of him, and mentioned with pleasure, as a proof of tolerance of opinion, that Lafayette has always been beloved and associated with by persons of totally opposite opinions to his own, and has been enriched by them at their death lately he has acquired much by the death of Monsieur de Lusignan, whom I once knew very well. . . . Here is the Baron indeed! He is very charming! So full of information, and so simple in his manner of giving it. Two o'clock. I have lived more in two or three hours to-day than I usually live in a month. I have been to Peru, to Mexico, climbing the Table Mountain, besides hearing much on all subjects, amusing, instructive, and interesting. This charming Chamberlain of Frederick William (I mean the King of Prussia) goes Thus, and in the melée of royalties and ambassadors, of Sunday callers and Sunday dinners, passed the London springs of Amelia Opie's life up to 1814. Yet it was in this very summer, nay, it was about a fortnight before the last-mentioned brilliant dinner, that she received a quiet epistle from Mr. J. J. Gurney, announcing the increased illness and danger of his brother, but also insinuating cautions and doubts respecting her way of life, followed about a month afterwards by one much longer, in which he presses the same train of thought upon her. "Liked, flattered, and admired, 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 temptation to thee, and require on thy part much watchfulness." He apologizes, however, "for addressing something in the shape of advice to one so much older and more experienced " than himself. That an impression was made on her mind, and her conscience pricked by these letters there can be no doubt, especially as the death of Mr. Gurney's brother, and the striking funeral service, which she attended (having travelled all night for the purpose), soon followed. But, though, from that time, she attended the religious worship of the Quakers, we must pass on eleven years before we come to the following letter to the Friends of the Monthly Meeting: Respected Friends,-Having attended your place of worship for more than eleven years, and being now fully convinced of the truth of Friends' principles, I can no longer be easy without expressing my earnest desire to be admitted into membership with your society. My former opinions and habits were, I own, at variance with yours; but having, through Divine mercy, been convinced of the error of my early belief, and of the emptiness of worldly pleasures, I trust that the same mercy has led me to desire to "walk in the narrow way" that seems to lie before me, and to promise me "that peace which the world cannot give."-I am, yours, with respect and esteem, A. O. As the result of this application, she was received into membership, Aug. 11, 1825. Two months afterwards her father died. Intense as is ordinarily our dislike to making public the deep communings of a devout heart. yet, as one of two, only, printed prayers of Mrs. Opie's, we cannot help pointing to the touching supplication for her father found among her papers, dated April, 1821, and here given, in which are these words : In grateful return for that life which he gave me here, and which, under Thy good providence, he has tenderly watched over and tried to render happy, enable me, 0 Lord! to be the humble means of leading him to Thee. O, let us thirst, and come together to the waters, &c. (P. 187.) Here, indeed, was the true dividing line between her past and present Not in membership, nor garb, por speech; but in the turn of her thoughts and the nobler employment of her time. In the midst of much wonder and regret, the kind consideration she met with was great. Her old friend Lady Cork writes: "Si vous êtes heureuse, je ne suis pa malheureuse," used to be my motto to you. I must be glad that you are happy; but I must confess I have too much self, not to feel it a tug at my heart, the no-chance I have of enjoying your society again. Will your primitive cap never dine with me, and enjoy a quiet society? but really, am I never to see you again? Your Parliament friend does not wear a broadbrimmed hat; so pray, pray, pray do not put on the bonnet. So come to me and be my love, in a dove-coloured garb, and a simple head-dress. Teach us your pure House shall join us, and approve of your morals, and your friend of the Lower compliance. He will agree with me, that good people, mixing with the world, are of infinitely more use than when they confine themselves to one set. Pray treat me with a letter sometimes; and when you do write (if you happen to think of it), say whether your Norwich goods are cheaper upon the spot than I can get them in town this is of no consequence. Cannot you give me one of your 200 pictures-you're welcome to my phiz, if you will come and paint it, or shall I step to you? I could fill a paper with fun, but the cold water of your last makes me end my letter. God bless you! Adieu.-Yours ever, sinner or saint, M. CORK AND ORRERY. What do you give up Holkham, your singing and music, and do you really see harm in singing? Now F. sings all day long, and thinks it her duty. Others, of course, were less goodhumoured-and some were even slanderous; for herself, her chief subject of self-debate as to externals seems to have been between the Wesleyans and the Friends. " Many of her relations," she tells Mrs. Fry, 66 on her mother's side, had been united for generations past to the Wesleyan Methodists," which consideration had sometimes inclined her towards a union with that sect of worshippers, and it may be added that the Wesleyan Hymn-book was the companion of all her wanderings, and its contents read and repeated by her on her death-bed. If, in parts of Miss Brightwell's volume we have wished for that kind of suppression which we cannot find, we, in this place, desire some positive addition to the materials. There are copious extracts from Mrs. Opie's diaries, from the journals of her foreign and English tours; but we should have much preferred to read some of her more quiet letters. She suffered most deeply on the death of her father, and seems to have been long unable to shake off the gloom which every return to her Norwich home occasioned her; this and only this period of her life gives us an impression of a morbid state of mind. Gradually, however, she recovered her tone. The ancient, almost unparalleled, sweetness of temper, the cheerful active sympathies of her beautiful nature, revived again, and flowed through deeper channels. How intensely she loved Christian companionship, how she delighted in her friends and the occupations they gave her, can never be the subject of a moment's doubt; but one memorable truth must be told of her, that the strength of her own convictions never led her into presumptuous condemnation of others; and perhaps her perfect freedom from sectarian bitterness may have, here and there, led a bigot to think of her as attaching less value to the essentials of her faith than really was the case. Mr. Brightwell says truly, Mrs. Opie had no liking for religious controversy, and seemed to me always desirous of avoiding it. I believe she disliked dogmatic theory altogether. Her religion was the "shewing out of a good conversation her works, with meekness of wisdom." She ever deemed her union "with Friends" the happiest event of her life; and she did honour to her profession of their principles by shewing that they were not incompatible with good manners and refined taste. She met with some among them who have always appeared to me to come the nearest to the standard of est friends on earth, and she is now, with Christian perfection; these were her dearthem, numbered among the blessed dead who have died in the Lord, who have ceased from their labours, and whose works do follow them. Very numerous were her sorrows. One pressed heavily upon her. In 1844 she was called to the deathbed of her relative, Henry Briggs, R.A. She had been anticipating this, early in January, and wrote,— I do so enjoy my home. In a morning I am only too full of company; but when at nightfall I draw my sofa round, for a long evening to myself, I have such a feeling of thankfulness !-and so I ought. It is well to see how the burden is fitted to the back by our merciful Father. I have been a lone woman through life; an only child! a childless widow! All my nearest ties engrossed by nearer ones of their own. If I did not love to be alone, and enjoy the privileges leisure gives, what would have become of me !-but I love my lot, and every year it grows dearer still-though parting with beloved friends throws, for a while, a deep shadow over my path. Six days after she writes:— I go on my melancholy journey tomorrow, scarcely expecting to see my poor cousin alive; but he wishes to see me, and it is therefore my duty to go. Going into his gallery of pictures, where so many, alas! are unfinished, reminds me so powerfully of bygone days, when I stood in my own gallery, where finished and unfinished pictures abounded! Many were the bereavements of her latter years. Relatives and friends dropped fast around her—and, healthy as was her general state, she had severe occasional illnesses, and a remarkable allowance of sharp, if not dangerous, bodily suffering. Touching as is the read unbroken. latter part of the volume, it should be We could hardly forgive ourselves were we to mutilate Miss Brightwell's beautiful detail of the closing scenes. Suffice it to say that here we feel the full benefit of such a biographer. The filial feeling, the devoted, admiring love with which the aged friend is contemplated in her dying hours, and even after death itself has come, is infinitely too sacred a thing to be a theme for criticism. Blessed are all they who have called forth such feelings,-blessed they who have experienced them! Of the personal appearance of Mrs. Opie in her latter years, these few descriptive touches are given, She was about the standard height of woman; her hair was worn in waving folds in front, and behind it was seen through the cap, gathered into a braid; its colour was peculiar-'twixt flaxen and gray; it was unusually fine and delicate, and had a natural bend or wave. Her Quaker cap was of beautiful lawn, and fastened beneath the chin with whimpers, which had small crimped frills; her dress was usually of rich silk or satin, often of a fawn or grey colour; and over the bust was drawn a muslin or net handkerchief in thick folds, fastening into the waist, round which was worn a band of the same material as the dress; an apron, usually of net or muslin, protected (or adorned) the front of the gown. Her feet, which were small and well-formed, peeped out beneath the dress. On her hands she wore small, black, netted muffatees, (she sometimes repaired them while talking to her friends,) and the cuffs of her gown were secured by a small loop at one corner, which she wore passed over the thumb, so as to prevent them from turning back or rucking upon the arm. Her figure was stout, the throat short; her carriage was invariably erect, and she bore her head rather thrown back, and with an air of dignity. Her countenance, in her later years, lost much of that fire which once irradiated it; but the expression was more pleasing, softer, more tender, and loving. Her eyes were especially charming; there was in them an ardour mingled with gentleness that bespoke her true nature, and occasionally they were raised upwards with a look most peculiar and expressive, when her sympathy was more than usually excited. Her complexion was fair, and the kindling blush mantled in her cheek, betraying any passing emotion, for, hie her friend Lafayette, she "blushed like a girl to hear her own praises." Altogether she attracted you, and you drew near to her, and liked to look into her face, and felt that old age, in her, was beautiful and comely. MANSION OF THE DENNIS FAMILY AT PUCKLECHURCH, HAVING been presented with a view of this ancient mansion, recently destroyed (see our Number for March, p. 226, and for April, p. 338), we have had the accompanying engraving made of it; thinking that it will be interesting, not merely as a specimen of a class of stone houses very frequent in that district of the country,* but particularly as a memorial to those who have spent some of their earliest, and perhaps happiest, days within its walls. The account of the outside of this house, as given by Rudder (1768), is as follows, but, unfortunately he does not describe the inside of the mansion: A capital house and estate at Pucklechurch, formerly belonging to William Dennis, esq. is now the property of John Hugh Smyth, esq. (eldest son of Sir Jarrit Smyth, Bart.) in right of Elizabeth his wife. daughter and sole heiress of Henry Woolnough, esq. who purchased them of Mrs. Mary Butler, eldest daughter and coheir of William Dennis, esq. There is a large scutcheon of arms carved in stone: Quarterly of eight. 1. Gules, a bend ingrailed azure between three leopard's faces or, jessant fleurs-de-lis of the second, for Dennis. 2. Or, within a bordure [q. gules?] a raven proper, for Corbet. 3. Argent, on a chief gules three besants, for Russel. 4. Or, five fusils in fess azure, for Pennington. 5. Lozengy or and azure, a chevron gules, for Gorges. 6. Argent, on a bend gules three martlets or, winged vert, for Danvers. 7. Two bars, on a chief three stag's heads caboshed. 8. * One of these is Syston Court, the ancient seat of the Trotmans, of which there are two views in Fosbroke's Gloucestershire. A third, very similar to the Court House at Pucklechurch, is Postlip Hall, near Winchcomb, of which a view appeared some years ago in "The Mirror." Ermine, three roses gules, 2 and 1, for Still.* Sir Robert Atkyns (in 1712)† gives many particulars of the builders and owners of this old mansion: A great part of the mannor of Pucklechurch does still continue in the bishoprick of Bath, but a considerable part came to the family of the Dennis's. Henry Dennis had livery thereof granted to him 4 Eliz. William Dennis, esq. dyed seised thereof 1701, and left two daughters coheiresses, who have a large seat called The Court House, and a large estate in this and other parishes. They have been a very ancient family, of long standing in this county. There have been more High Sheriffs of this family than any other. The Church is large, with an isle on the north side, at the upper end of which is the burying place of the Dennis's. There are two old monuments in the aisle, with two statues for the Dennis's. An inscription for Hugh Dennis, esq. who died 1539. Another handsome monument for John Dennis, esq. son of Henry Dennis ; he died 1638. Another for John Dennis, who died 1660. Another for John Dennis, esq. who died 1682. Another very handsome white marble monument in the north isle for William Dennis, esq. who died 1701. The several inscriptions of these History. monuments are printed in Rudder's Mr. Lysons gives a view of one of the "statues" noticed by Sir Robert Atkins; but the male effigy has no reference to the Dennis family. Mr. Lysons says it is of the time of Edward III.; of which age is also the other monument, with a female effigy. Pucklechurch is a village situated between Bristol and Chipping Sodbury. It gives name to a hundred, and occurs in Domesday Book, as Pulcrecrece, a name which has been supposed to signify the stately and magnificent church," but which perhaps referred to the ancient dedication of the church to Saint Pulcherius, a dedication which was afterwards altered to Saint Thomas of Canterbury. † Gloucestershire, p. 610. |