(701) Now first collected.
Letter 356 To The Miss Berrys.
Sunday, Oct. 10, 1790, The day of your departure. (page 455)
Is it possible to write to my beloved friends, and refrain from speaking of my grief for losing you; though it is but the continuation of what I have felt ever since I was stunned by your intention Of going abroad this autumn? Still I will not tire YOU With it Often. In happy days I smiled, and called you my dear wives—now I can only think on you as darling children of whom I am bereaved! As such I have loved and do love You; and, charming as you both are, I have had no Occasion to remind myself that I am Past seventy-three. Your hearts, your understandings, your virtues, and the cruel injustice of your fate,(702) have interested me in every thing that concerns you; and so far from having occasion to blush for any unbecoming weakness, I am proud of my affection for you, and very proud of your condescending to pass so many hours with a very old man, when every body admires you, and the most insensible allow that your good sense and information (I speak of both) have formed you to Converse with the most intelligent of our sex as well as your own; and neither can tax you with airs of pretension or affectation. Your simplicity and natural ease set off all your other merits-all these graces are lost to me, alas! when I have no time to lose.
Sensible as I am to my loss, it will occupy but part of my thoughts, till I know you are safely landed, and arrived safely at Turin. Not till you are there, and I learn so, will my anxiety subside, and settle into steady, selfish sorrow. I looked at every weathercock as I came along the road to-day, and was happy to see every one point northeast. May they do so to-morrow!
I found here the frame for Wolsey, and to-morrow morning Kirgate will place him in it; and then I shall begin pulling the little parlour to pieces, that it may be hung anew to receive him. I have also obeyed Miss Agnes, though with regret; for, on trying it, I found her Arcadia(703) would fit the place of the picture she condemns, which shall therefore be hung in its room; though the latter should give Way to nothing else, nor shall be laid aside, but shall hang where I shall see it almost as often. I long to hear that its dear paintress is well; I thought her not at all so last night. You will tell me the truth, though she in her own case, and in that alone, allows herself mental reservation.
Forgive me for writing nothing to-night but about you two and myself. Of what can I have thought else? I have not spoken to a single person but my own servants since we parted last night.
I found a message here from Miss Howe(704) to invite me for this evening—do you think I have not preferred staying at home to write to you, as this Must go to London to-morrow morning by the coach to be ready for Tuesday's post! My future letters shall talk of other things, whenever I know any thing worth repeating; or perhaps any trifle, for I am determined to forbid myself lamentations that would weary you; and the frequency of my letters will prove there is no forgetfulness. If I live to see you again, you will then judge whether I am changed; but a friendship so rational and so pure as mine is, and so equal for both, is not likely to have any of the fickleness of youth, when it has none of its other ingredients. It was a sweet consolation to the short time that I may have left, to fall into such a society; no wonder then that I am unhappy at that consolation being abridged. I pique myself on no philosophy but what a long use and knowledge of the world had given me-the philosophy of indifference to most persons and events. I do pique myself on not being ridiculous at this very late period of my life; but when there is not a grain of passion in my affection for you two, and when you both have the good sense not to be displeased at my telling you so, (though I hope you would have despised me for the contrary,) I am not ashamed to say that your loss is heavy to me; and that I am only reconciled to it by hoping that a winter in Italy, and the journeys and sea air, will be very beneficial to two constitutions so delicate as yours. Adieu! my dearest friends it would be tautology to subscribe a name to a letter, every line of which would suit no other man in the world but the writer.
(702) This alludes to Miss Berry's father having been disinherited by an uncle, to whom he was heir at law, and a large property left to his younger brother.-M.B.
(703) A drawing by Miss Agnes Berry.
(704) Julia Howe, an unmarried sister of Admiral Earl Howe, who lived at Richmond.