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friends, anongst whom Joanna Baillie, and what grief for the fall of friends at Water. Scott, and Rogers had long been promi-loo, he replied in his usual unaffected manDent. When Byron was first added to the ner, he had little time to feel either until long

I who saw the battle four list she was much attracted by him, but after all was over she soon wrote, “He is a singular man,

times lost that day.pleasant to.me, but I very much fear that

In 1817 the Berrys went to Genoa, dehis head begins to be turned by all the scribed by Mary to Madame de Staël as a adoration of the world, especially the place which, differently peopled, would be women." Campbell, who struck her as

an earthly paradise.' But she adds :conceited, she did not like at all. The prince regent of course disapproved

To pass one's life without books — for there

are none to be found here - and without conof this friendly intercourse :

versation for it is unknown here — is an inWent to Lady Hertford's [writes Miss tellectual and moral fast which weakens me Berry). The Regent came soon afterwards. morally, and influences painfully my physical

He looked wretchedly swollen up, with well-being. a muddled complexion, and was extremely tipsy — gravely and cautiously so.

I hap

She seems, however, to have struggled pened to be a good while in the circle, and he successfully against this mental isolation, at last gave me a formal bow, with Kensington for Professor Playfair writes to her that, legible on it.

according to Lord Minto, but for the sociThe acquaintance begun with Mademoi. ety she collected at her house, “ Genoa selle Necker ripened into friendship with would have been unsupportable. I have Madame de Staël, of whom Miss Berry often admired, as indeed all the world saw a great deal during her visit to En does, that power of making something out gland in 1813-14. When news reached of nothing – society out of solitude. A her that the Allies had entered Paris she few weeks after this letter was received, was deeply moved, but Miss Berry dis- a slight swelling appeared on Mr. Berry's trusted the eloquently expressed distress. band, which spread to the arm, and was

pronounced gangrenous. In five days he Emotion is not what she excites nor what died, and was buried in the cemetery at she feels (except momentarily). She does not

Carignano. “ His death," writes his dwell long enough upon anything: Life, daughter, “leaves us without a duty to characters, and even feelings pass before her fulál towards the present generation, nor eyes like a magic lantern; she runs through the world to see all, to hear all, and to say all have we any tie to that which is to come.” - to excite herself, and to give it all back to

In 1819 Miss Berry published her “ Life the world, and the society from which she has and Letters of Lady Russell," for writing drawn it.

which her friendship for Lord John Rus

sell and other members of the Bedford And when Madame de Staël returned to France, Miss Berry wrote to Mrs. Damer, The subject suited her admirably, and it

family had afforded unusual facilities. “While I am regretting her, she will never think more of me till we meet again.” But was certainly the most successful of her in this she was mistaken, for Madame de

literary efforts. Staël afterwards described her to a friend and present at a masked ball attended by

Miss Berry was in Paris again in 1820, as " by far the cleverest woman in En. the Duc and Duchesse de Berri, within glaod, and the one she loved best.”

In 1816 Miss Berry visited Lady Hard.twenty-four hours of the duke's assassinawicke in Paris, where her husband was the examination of the assassin, when one

tion. And she was in the chamber during then ambassador, and frequently met Tal of the deputies melodramatically deleyrand — “such a mass of moral and nounced the Comte Decazes as “accom. physical corruption !” – and the Duke of plice du meurtre de M. le Duc de Berri!” Wellington:

Her description of the horrible scene at The simplicity and frankness of his man. the Opera House, with all its incongruous ners, and the way in which he speaks of pub- surroundings, is the fullest and most lic affairs, are really those of a great man, graphic to be found anywhere. although, talking of the allied sovereigns, their views, etc., he says we found so-and-so, the Continent, glad to prolong their ab

From Paris the sisters wandered over we intend such-and-such things, quite as treating de couronne à couronne. I diverted him

sence from England during the miserable

business much with Benjamin Constant's idea of his

of the queen's trial. They never returning to l'état de simple citoyen.'.

avoided Naples, where there were rumors In answer to a number of women's questions of political disturbance (“ during which,” as to what exultation he felt at the victory, | Miss Berry remarks, with one of her rare


touches of humor, “ old women have noth- Four years later Miss Berry visited her ing to do but to be kicked down and not Orleans friends at Fontainebleau; the king picked up again ”), and in Rome found and queen themselves took her over the amongst a mob of princes and ex-princes château, and she saw Marie Amélie's

their old acquaintance, Madame D’Al rooms, filled with the furniture used by bany, “not unentertaining; well-in- Marie Antoinette, and Louis Philippe formed, sensible, sharp, and heartless using the table on which Napoleon had very nt from what we knew her signed his abdication. Ominous, these many years ago, in Alfieri's time," and things, of the insecurity of dynasties in Napoleon's sister Pauline :

France! Yet Miss Berry, somewhat misShe occupies a fine apartment in the Bor- led, perhaps, by her own affection for the ghese Palace. A pretty person, no longer family, wrote io Macaulay that she saw young, but still preserves her looks, giving popularity dawning for Louis Philippe. herself as much the airs of a princess as she

When seventy-four years old, she paid a can venture to do – rising a very little when final visit to Paris, which, she said, was any one enters, etc. Several Roman ladies her “last reckoning with society. . . . It there, and about twenty gentlemen. We had is now that I figure Petersham, and our music; I was at her side on the sofa : we quiet garden there, as everything on earth talked a great deal of all those of her admirers that I most covet, and from which I no who were my friends.

longer desire to wander.” And when This visit to the Bonaparte beauty in she had returned to that pleasant spot, Rome was soon followed by a quiet day at she wrote :Neuilly, where Miss Berry was delighted Here I am quiet without being lonely; here with the children of the future king of I need never be idle – nor ever be hurried ; the French : “ One cannot see a finer here I can read as long as my eyes last, and family, nor one better brought up, or more work in my garden as long as my strength at ease with their parents.'

lasts,* alternately one with the other, while In 1828 Miss Berry published her both contribute to assure me what must be Comparative View of Social Life in considered one of the enjoyments of old age France and England," which had occupied

-sleep. her for some years, and been the chief Her friends, however, would by no object of many of her visits to France. It means consent to let her slip out of soci. was painstaking and anecdotal, but does ety, and Joanna Baillie, between whom and not appear to have been cordially received the Berrys there had long been a warm even by the author's friends. She bore attachment, writes :their strictures with a patience truly ad.

I do not wonder that people should forget mirable, when one remembers her exceeding sensitiveness and intellectual pride. and vigor for anything, and it is not your ut,

your age; in company you seem to have spirit In spite of all her social successes, she tering a complaint or two of being old, and was not a happy woman. Her life was other ailments, that will convince them while shadowed by the consciousness that she your face is so animated, and your eyes nearly had never found full expression for the as bright as they were twenty years ago. powers of her mind, or outlet for the affections of her heart; and in her diaries downe ai Bowood, Miss Berry saw much

During a visit to Lord and Lady Laos. she often returns with touching fidelity to of Moore, and he records in his diary that the one great disappointment of her youth. she reminded him of her having been

The sisters were at St. Germain during the revolution of 1830, and Agnes Berry's present when he made his first appearance

as a singer before a large company - of very interesting journal gives a vivid pic the sort of contemptuous titter which went ture of the time. So far as their neigh-round the circle of fine gentlemen amaborhood was concerned, the excitement

teurs when the little Irish lad was led was wonderfully well regulated and goodtempered, the National Guard even empty- Sydney Smith affected to disbelieve in her rural ing casks of wine on the ground lest too tastes. “The rumor of the town, ,” he wrote, “is that much should be drunk. Things were dif- you are tired to death of the country, and never mean

to try it again. That you bought a rake and attempted ferent in Paris, which was converted into

to rake the flower-beds, and did it so badly that you a camp,” and where “the élégans of the pulled up all the flowers. That it is impossible to get salons, when making their bow to the with the Berrys for many years — " the smallest ac

into the Lindsay" — Lady Charlotte, who had lived ladies, inquired : “ Quels seronts vos pro- quaintance with the vegetable world, and that if it was jets pendant les massacres ?

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not for the interierence of friends she would order the roses to be boiled for dinner, and gather a cauliflower

(Sydney Smith, by Lady Holland, p. * Wife of Prince Charles Edward.

538, edit. 1869.)

as a nosegay

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forward to exhibit before them; and of | Stein mentioned the Miss Berrys to Charler the change in their countenances when in this manner, “There is an old woman who they saw the effect he produced.

goes about Rome with a younger sister of sixts “I didn't so much like you in those or seventy years of age. She is always talk. days,” she said to him. • You were too

ing of Horace Walpole. I have given her to - too — what shall I say?”.

understand that I despise the man, but noth. “ Too brisk and airy, perhaps ? " sug.

ing can keep her quiet on the subject ! gested Moore.

What a contrast is this to the spirit in “Yes,” she replied, taking hold of one which the “cynic ” Thackeray mentions of his "grizzly locks ; " " I like you better the sisters to Mrs. Brookfield. In one since you have got these.”

passage he says he is glad that he has “I could then overhear her,” adds been able to please them by some allusion Moore — whose hearing for praise was in Punch. In another letter he writes : always acute “say to the person with

What numbers of good folks there are in whom I had found her speaking : ' That's the world! Old Miss Berry is very kind. as good a creature as ever lived !!"*

nothing can be kinder.'..

I hope Some reference to the Berrys is to be you will like good old Miss Agnes Berry ; I found in nearly all the memoirs and cor- am sure you will

, and shall be glad that you respondence of the first half of this cen- belong to that kind and polite set of old ladies tury. The two sisters, relics of a long and worthy gentlemen. past generation, with memories which had Miss Kate Perry, another of the happy become historical, generally excited re- recipients of Thackeray's affectionate letspectful sympathy. Strangely enough, the ters and humorous sketches, says, describleast kind mention of them is contained in ing her first acquaintance with him: one of the letters of Baroness Bunsen, usually so remarkable for tenderness and

Afterwards we frequently met at the Miss

Berrys', where night after night were assemcharity :

bled all the wit and beauty of that time. The Miss Berrys were at the concerts, and There was such a charm about these gathereach time happened to sit close to me, there- ings of friends that hereafter we may say, fore I had a full opportunity of observing “There is no salon now to compare to that their behavior and hearing their conversation. of the Miss Berrys in Curzon Street.” My In the fine and fashionable dress — the toques sister and I, with our great admiration and and the caps, the satin, the gauze, and the friendship for Mr. Thackeray, used to think blonde in which they are always attired, it is that the Miss Berrys at first did not thoroughly out of my power to recognize the little woman appreciate or understand him; but one evenwhom we saw one morning at Mrs. W. Lock’s. ing, when he had left early, they said they had But I observe that the Miss Berry who looks perceived for the first time what a very reby far the youngest, t and is the tallest, with a markable man he was.

He became a convery good and youthful figure, is the person stant and most welcome visitor at their house ; who has the harsh voice, the dictatorial tone, they read his works with delight, and whenand the keen black eyes. The other Miss ever they were making up a pleasant dinner, Berry looks much milder, is quieter in her used to say, “We must have Thackeray. manner, and speaks neither so much nor so Miss Agnes Berry adored her elder sisloud. The first-mentioned attacked Charles ter; she had considerable clearness and acuteat one of the concerts (for her speaking to ness of perception, and Thackeray always anybody has the appearance of an attack f) to maintained she was the more naturally gifted ask the very learned question whether Pales- of the two sisters. In her youth she was a trina had not lived just before Marcello. Baron pretty, charming girl, with whom Gustavus

Adolphus danced at a court ball. † * Memoirs of Thomas Moore, vol. vii., pp. 241, 293. + The baroness is evidently describing Mary Berry lives, their brilliant circle necessarily

During the last ten years of the sisters' who was really the elder sister, though only by a year.

| These strictures on Miss Berry's manner were no somewhat contracted, and their corredoubt deserved, but had Mme. Bunsen known how painfully conscious of its defects she was herself, it spondence decreased. But both were exmight have excited sympathy rather than censure. In ceptionally attractive to the last. Few 1807 she wrote in her diary: “A number of little cir.

women of eighty could hope to deserve cumstances have lately served to convince me that my manner is often tranchante, my voice too loud, and my such a tribute as this from such a man as way of meeting opposition unconciliating. All these Lord Jeffrey :-) circumstances are exactly the contrary of what they ought to be, to make me what I wish at my time of I have just been reading your admirable

It is odd that who have been always thinking letter for the third time, and after nourishing of growing old, and have such clear ideas of what alone can make a woman loved and amiable after her youth the meditations to which it led by gazing for is past, should fall into the very faults I am most aware of, and put myself into the situation I have always * Life and Letters of Baroness Bunsen, by Augustus deprecated. But it is not too late, and at least I am J. C. Hare, vol. i., p. 176. 1882 not too old to mend."

Scribner's Magazine, vol. ii., p. 329. 1887


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Two friends within one grave we place,

United in our tears,
Sisters, scarce parted for the space

Of more than eighty years.
And she whose bier is borne to-day,

The one the last to go,
Bears with her thoughts that force their way

Above the moment's woe.
Within one undisturbed abode

Their presence seems to dwell,
From which continual pleasures flowed,

And countless graces fell.
Where none were sad, and few were dull,

And each one said his best,
And beauty was most beautiful,

With vanity at rest.
No taunt or scoff obscured the wit

That there rejoiced to reign,
They never could have laughed at it

If it had carried pain.

Sydney Smith still cheered them with bis clever nonsense, and Lady Dufferin with her graceful sparkle. And Lady Morley, in one of her amusing letters, says:

I infer that you are pretty flourishing, as you only refer to your eighty-sixth ailment (Miss Berry's age] which I hold to be a very light matter, and to you above all people, with your ears and your eyes, and your limbs and your mind, and your zest and your capabilities of enjoyment all alive and kicking, as if you were eighteen instead of eighty-five!

You have no business to say ill-natured things of old age. It is an evil or a good (like most things) according as we take it; but it is scarcely an evil to you, and it shall not be an evil to me, if, please God, I live two ur three years longer, and have no painful disease to prevent my enjoying and making the best of it.

Farewell! the pleasant social page

Is read, — but ye remain,
Examples of ennobled age,

Long life without a stain.
A lesson to be scorned by none,

Least by the wise and brave,
Delightful as the winter sun

That gilds this open grave.



In 1849 Lady Charlotte Lindsay, the

From The Cornhill Magazine. “third sister” of half a century of closest companionship, was taken from the little BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE TOUCHSTONE OF circle. Mary Berry felt a growing conviction that she would soon follow.

I will a round unvarnished tale deliver. - Othello. I still make an effort to gather together

some sparks of life for my sister's sake (she

wrote]. My only anxiety! my only one! is
thinking what I can do to secure her some

THEY hurry across the open ground that comfort of society after I am gone.

I think lies between the edge of the ditch and a of this without ceasing.

road which here runs almost parallel to

the battlement from which they have just The anxiety was needless. January, descended. If they follow this road in 1852, saw Agnes Berry's most calm and i one direction, it will bring them to the peaceful death ; and in November, Mary, cantonment by way of the Mall; if they then ninety years old, without a struggle, follow it in the other, it will also conduct with scarcely a sigh,” followed, and was them to the cantonment, but by a more laid beside her at Petersham, in the beau- circuitous and unfrequented route. Tbe tiful quiet riverside churchyard, with its unfrequentedness is a greater recommenshadowing trees and many flowers, to dation than the circuitousness is a drawwhich in life her eyes had often turned back. So they turn their faces to the wistfully, as to a haven of rest.

northward, and not to the southward, and Dean Milman read the funeral service hurry along. Strange to think that they over both his dear friends; Lord Hough- should be hurrying fearfully along a road ton was amongst the mourners, and a over which many of them had moved that quotation from his memorial stanzas may morning, in lordly leisure, with as little fitly close this selection from the records thought of danger as if they had been in of two lives, remarkable for their long and Rotten Row. But they meet no one on unbroken association with all that was the road except a few boys and girls, who best in English society and finest in En- gaze curiously at them. And now the glish intellect:

Gothic turrets of Melvil Hall which lies

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upon this road, come in view above the sheer, dead, downward weight - the territops of the trees. The women look eagerly ble weight of lifelessness. towards the house as towards a place of “She is dead,” says Brodie." They refuge and safety. Mrs. Fane has been often die in a fit like this ;” and they lay walking with Mrs. Lyster, and the latter her down at the foot of the tree they are has been prattling away, when she stops passing under. suddenly in the middle of a sentence, and “Oh, mother! mother!” cries Miss Mrs. Fane, turning towards her, sees a Lyster, flinging herself down on her knees strange look come over her face, hears a by the side of the body, and wringing her strange gurgle from her lips, and then clasped hands. “Oh! she is not dead !” the poor old lady drops down on the road "As good as,” says the doctor. in a fit.

up, Miss Lyster, you can do her no good Mrs. Fane calls out; Miss Lyster runs now.” And he takes the kneeling woman back to her mother. At this very mo. by the arm, but she refuses to rise. ment a man comes out from the wicket of “I cannot leave her! I cannot !” she a little garden by the side of the road, and cries. says :

The loud " “ Hye, hye's !” and “Ha, í Look ! You must run into my or- ha's !” of the crowd now fall terribly on cbard. Many people are advancing up their ears. that lane” - pointing to one that entered “ You cannot remain here,” says old the road just at the corner of the orchard Brodie roughly. “ You are endangering

– "and if you fall into their hands they your own life and ours ” — and, seizing will kill you. They have killed some En her by the arm, he pulls her up by main glish people in this neighborhood, and force; he was a tall, powerful Scotchman, plundered their houses."

with a gaunt, bony frame. After all, it is “ Lift her up, Hay,” says Dr. Brodie, hard to be killed when you have made a who has been bending over the afflicted large fortune, and are just about to return woman; and he and Hay lift her up and to your native land with it. And the orcarry her a few yards easily enough, she is chárd wicket is so close.“ Take her other so light; but then comes a sudden fierce arm,” he cries to young Hamilton, who is convulsion, and they cannot hold her, and standing near, and he seizing her other have to lay her down again on the road. arm, they run her between them up to the

“ You must leave her here,” cries the wicket, and pass in through it. native, the owner of the orchard.

And now they can hear the tramp of the But they cannot do that. Again they advancing crowd as it comes nearer, along lift her up and carry her a few yards, and the lane. Every one has passed in through again comes the fierce, unnatural exertion the wicket, which is very narrow, and only of strength, still in the East attributed to admits one person at a time, and the gardemoniacal agency, which they cannot dener is about to close it when Miss Lyscope with. She twists herself out of their ter slips by him and runs back to the place hands. And now they can hear the shouts where her mother is lying. and cries of the approaching crowd of na- Hay jumps forward to go after her, but tives hear their laughter. Its murder- the gardener has closed and bolted the ing and plundering have made it merry. wicket. (Laughter is said to be due to a sudden Open it!"

says Hay. sense of superiority; certainly nothing “ What for? What profit will it be your arouses that sense of superiority so going after her? You cannot do her any greatly as slaying a man and taking pos- good — not if all three of you gentlemen session of his goods.) It is a terrible mo- went after her. You would all three be

killed. That is all." “Grip her tight, mon,” cries Dr. Brodie " I must bring her back. Open the excitedly; and he and Hay lift her up, door!”cries Hay passionately, and trying though with great difficulty, and with to move the man aside. great difficulty have carried her a few Speak low! Be silent!” cries the na. yards further on, when the terrible strug. tive; and Lilian, with her nerves outworn gliog suddenly ceases, and she becomes by the terrible events, the terrible sights quiie still; an utter relaxation takes the and sounds, the terrible apprehensions of place of the former rigidity; the fiercely that day, gives a jump, and even firm ihrown about arms drop down straight; hearted Mrs. Fane starts violently as there and the difficulty they have in carrying is a sudden roar from the crowd, eviher now is not due to the over activity of dently at sight of the two women in the the frame, but to its utter inertness, to its road.






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