Memorials of the Life of Amelia Opie. Amelia Opie

following letter to Mrs. Taylor gives a lively narrative of one of the soirées, at which she met a party of the emigrants, among whom was the Duc d’Aiguillon; and we have added a letter from him, received by her the following year, on the cover of which she has written, “From the Duke d’Aiguillon, the ex-minister; one of the second importation of emigrants.”

      TO MRS. TAYLOR.

      Sunday Morning, 1795.

      It is so long, my dear friend, since I conversed with you, even through the imperfect medium of a letter, that I joyfully take advantage of the first favourable opportunity for writing you a long epistle, in hopes that I may rouse you to pay me in coin. Besides you are in a state of widowhood and require all the attention possible to console you for so forlorn a condition! What shall I tell you by way of anecdote? My father has read you, perhaps, my account of Charles Lameth; take some more particulars respecting that extraordinary man. You may suppose that I felt a new and pleasing sensation while contemplating him, as I knew him to be one of the actors in the first revolution; and as soon as my silence yielded to my curiosity, I began questioning him concerning some of the patriotic leaders. Amongst others I inquired what he thought of Legendre? He says Legendre, though misled, has some good points in his character, and is not a bad man; he then gave us the following instance of his determined spirit and resolution; “I was, at the time I mention,” said Lameth, “president of the National Convention, and had been supping at your house, (turning to the Duc d’Aiguillon,) when, at midnight, my servant came to me, and said, ‘A man muffled up is in a hackney coach at the door, and wants to see you.’ ‘Tell him to come in.’ ‘He refuses.’ ‘Go and ask his name.’ He did so, and returned saying, ‘His name is Legendre.’ Hearing this, I went into the coach to him, and demanded his business. ‘I come to you,’ replied he, ‘as president of the National Convention; I hear that an accusation is bringing forward against me, and as I shrink not from the charge, I came to surrender myself, and save you the trouble—here I am, guillotine me, if you will, I am firm and steady.’ I endeavoured to convince him the decree of accusation might be repealed, and that all that was necessary was his concealment till the danger was gone by. ‘Conceal me then in your house, my own is not safe,’ cried he; but I convinced him that mine was too public. However, I sent to a friend in whom I could confide, who concealed Legendre in his, till the decree was annulled.”

      “Oh!” said Sam. Rogers to me, some time after, “I do not like the fellow’s looks, I would not have gone muffled up to his house, at midnight, and have given him leave to kill me, for fear he should have taken me at my word!” This led Mr. Rogers to give his opinion of the three émigrés then with us, and of Duport, another of considerable talents, who was prevented coming; and he defined them thus:—“Though I have often entertained Lameth at my house, I should expect he would treat me insolently, and make me feel the distance between us, even if he admitted me to his table. The Marquis would grin at me, and pass on; the Duc would be glad to see me, and do me immediately all the service and civility in his power; but Duport would open his arms to me!” Lameth entertained the gentlemen very much, by his account of the fascinating Madame de Condorcet, and of her method of acquiring votes for the members whom she wished returned. These favoured men were called “the majority of Madame de Condorcet;” and, on my innocently asking what it meant, I saw enough, from the laugh I excited, and L’s mysterious manner of answering, to know that the majority of Madame de Condorcet meant no good. “Does she live still?” said I; “Oh, yes,” cried the Duc, “she is in no danger; all parties will be her friend; she is so pretty and so accommodating; and I’m sure she’ll be the friend of all parties.” The Marquis, who was the intimate friend of the Duc de Rouchefoucault, says, though he brought Condorcet forward, fed him, lodged him, and married him, Condorcet was justly suspected of being privy to his assassination. When Lameth was forced to fly, as he was denounced in the Jacobin Club, and orders given for his detention, he sent to desire such a portmanteau to be forwarded directly to him; having received it, and wanting some of the money and papers which it contained, he opened it as soon as he was out of France, and found, to his utter surprise and dismay, that the wrong portmanteau had been sent, and instead of money, that it contained his wife’s child-bed linen! “Et les voilà encore, mesdames! (continua-t-il) car, en vérité, je n’ai pas eu encore occasion d’en faire usage.” * *

      à Hambourg, chez Mr. Fortune de la Vigne,

      Negociant, ce 6 février, 1796.

      TO MISS AMELIA ALDERSON, MR. ALDERSON’S, NORWICH.

      Mademoiselle,

      Daignez agréer l’assurance bien sincère, de la vive reconnaissance que m’inspire le marque aimable, de souvenir et d’intérêt, que vous avez bien voulu me donner. Je vous dois mille remerciemens, et de la lettre donc vous avez chargé Mr. le Chevalier de Bercley, et de m’avoir procuré le plaisir de le connaitre. Je l’ai vu assez pour que le peu de séjour qu’il a fait ici, m’ai laissé beaucoup de regrets. J’ai mille excuses à vous faire d’avoir autant tardé à vous répondre; mais j’ai été, pendant plus de quinze jours, tellement malade d’un rhume mêlé de fievre, et de goutte (ma constante ennemie) que j’étois dans l’impossibilité absolue d’écrire un seul mot. Croyez, je vous prie, Mademoiselle, qu’il a fallu une raison aussi forte, pour m’empêcher de vous exprimer plutot toute ma gratitude, et le plaisir que j’ai, d’être assuré par vous, que je ne partage pas le sort ordinaire aux absens.

      Recevez mes remerciemens des jolis airs que vous m’avez envoyés. Je les conserverai avec soin, et ne les donnerai quoique vous en disiez, à personne. Ils ont renouvellé mes regrets, en me rappellant ces tendres et jolies romances que vous chantiez avec l’expression de la musique et toute celle du sentiment, ce qui vaut bien mieux.

      Je vous rends graces, Mademoiselle, des souhaits, vraiment pleins de bonté que vous faites en ma faveur. Je crains qu’ils ne soyent encore longtems à s’accomplir; cependant, je n’en suis pas moins sensible à vôtre obligeance. Mais vous! que desirer pour vôtre bonheur? La nature n’a-t-elle pas pourvu à tout, en vous donnant les qualités du cœur, celles de l’esprit, des graces, des talents? Je me bornerai donc à souhaiter que vous soyez toujours aussi heureuse que vous méritez de l’être, et c’est tout dire.

      Il me paroit que vous avez à Norwich une Societé de Français assez agréable. Je ne connois point ceux que vous me nommez; mais j’envie leur sort, d’être aupres de vous, et de vous plaire,—à propos!—que peut fonder ce reproche d’aristocratie fait à mon ami, M. de L.? Voilà, vraisemblablement, la première fois qu’il en est accusé. Cela est assez plaisant, et le singularité du fait, l’empêche, en verité, d’être aussi affligé qu’il le seroit, d’être jugé par vous aussi sévèrement.

      Adieu, Mademoiselle. Adieu! Croyez que je regarderois comme un vrai bonheur d’être instruit quelquefois de ce qui peut vous intéresser. Veuillez bien agréer l’hommage du tendre respect et de l’attachement sincère, que je vous ai voué.

      D’Aiguillon.

      Miss Alderson’s visit in London seems to have been protracted to a period of some months; a season full of constant occupation and variety, passed amidst a gay round of visits and amusements, which, however, did not merely serve the end of the fleeting hour’s enjoyment, but in which she studied human nature, and became acquainted with the world and its ways, to good practical purpose. There are two other letters to her friend, of this period, from which we make the following extracts:—

      * * * Yesterday morning I had the unexpected pleasure of a visit from Mr. Wrangham. He did not stay long, but he has promised to call again, and is as gentle, elegant, and interesting as ever; he gained the Seatonian prize for a poem this year, which is published, and he has promised to send me one. I am much pleased with Mr. W. Taylor’s Ode to the ship that conveys Gerald. Though he would not favour me with a copy of the elegant sonnet he sent me on the morning of my departure, my memory retains every word of it; and I catch myself repeating the first and last line, whenever home and its varied associations crowd on my mind. Month follows month in this wilderness of pleasure, if I may call it so, where fruits and flowers dispute pre-eminence with weeds; and yet I cannot say, “I’ll stay here no longer,” till, as I