Friday, November 19, 1830
1830
November
Friday
19
(Got up at) 6 25/.. /
(Went to bed at) 12 10/..
Out
at 7 40/.. To my apartment, rue Saint Vincent. 1/2 hour there musing, then
called at the laiterie to see if it was still there as usual, and called and
inquired at the door after M. Desfontaines and home by the rue de Seine and the
Quais. En passant went into Notre Dame –
Well! No finer or so well kept church en
province. On the quai on this side the Pont
Neuf, bought 3 books – Mrs. Montagu’s Lessons on Shakespeare; Macquer’s Annales
Romaines; and an old Dutch, in French, folded book of antiques, for the sake of
the numbered plates – all for
6/25!
Home
at 11 10/.. Breakfast – dressed – try on
old is to be evening gown.
Had
Daldringen. He values the steel of the
old hind springs at only 50 francs – ordered new ones.
At
2, letter from Miss Hobart dated ‘Whitehall November 15 Monday night’ – 2 half
sheets, one full, and 2 pages and 5 lines of the other. She had been at St. John’s Wood that night
with Miss MacLean, but could hardly find
her alive the next morning. Lady Stuart added
a few lines under the seal of the envelope on Tuesday morning to say she had
just heard that Miss MacLean expired
at three that morning. I never dreampt her end was so near! On
shewing Lady Stuart de Rothesay Miss Hobart’s last letter (on the 5th instante
mense at Lyons), we both agreed she might linger some time, perhaps, said Lady
Stuart de Rothesay, over the winter. I had been persuaded to think so. Her not being able to write, never once occurred
to me till on my return, I found no letter. She is the 1st friend I have
ever lost. I know not quite what is my
feeling, but it is one of great heaviness, and heart-sinking though I know that
her release was a mercy, and what all must have desired.
Sat
down and wrote to Miss Hobart –
‘Paris,
Friday 19 November 1830.
Dearest
Vere,
I
have this instant received your letter of Monday. Why it is that we are sometimes so short-sighted
where we are most interested to be otherwise, I cannot understand. In spite of what you wrote before, what you
have written now and dear Lady Stuart’s postscript today, that all is over,
have come upon me more miserably unprepared than I can describe. I had no thought the final close of our
anxieties was so near. I knew there was no hope of recovery – I had known this
long long before others would acknowledge it – but, as if by some strange
fatality, I calculated on lingering even thro’ through the winter, and, having
been, these 2 years past, so driven from the daring to express a doubt of skill
employed or hope of good, and I myself could never count upon, the wretched
habit has pursued me to the last. It was only on my return, and finding no
letter, that the possibility of her not being able to write ever occurred to me. I alluded as lightly as possible to her
illness. I waited to see the state of
her own mind, before venturing to touch in any way on that of my own –
miserable, miserable mistake that I shall think of with deep but vain regret to
the latest moment of my life. Alas! My
poor Sibella could neither know nor appreciate a motive that arose but from
anxiety, to breathe no sentiment or opinion respecting herself till I felt
assured of this not being in discord with what she wished and expected. Perhaps
you alone, my dearest Vere, can thoroughly understand this, for you know best
what has always been my conviction and constraint on that one only subject on
which we ever seriously differed in opinion.
But she, if any, would be fit to
die, and she would not regret that her life in this world was so near its close. I feel thankful for all the comfort she has
had from Mr. Robertson. You were happy in being with her, as you were, almost
to the last. I can never forget that she had not even one line from me such as
my heart would have dictated, if it might,
You know me too well not to feel that, on this subject, I need
consolation – but the greatest I can have is the assurance that you have profitted
as we ought all to profit from this afflicting yet merciful dispensation of
Providence.
My
love to dear Lady Stuart who, I am rejoiced to hear, is so much better – She is
always all kindness on every occasion. I shall write a few lines to Albane, of
which I beg you to take charge. I have sent in this letter to Madame de
Hagemann, and just had a very kind note from her. She begs her best love to you, and says how
very sincerely she feels for you and for us both. We have one sorrow in common, but yours has
more alleviation than mine – may it for good to us both! and may you count upon
my regard as you do upon my sympathy, and believe me, my dearest Vere, under
every possible circumstance,
your
very affectionately attached,
AL—’
Wrote
little note to Madame de Hagemann and sent it in with Miss Hobart’s
letter. Kind note back. Then wrote to Bredalbane
‘Paris
rue Godot de Mauray no. 39
Friday 19 November 1830
My dear Bredalbane,
I
have just received and answered Vere’s letter, and if I write but a few lines
to you, it is because I want the consolation I would gladly give. I feel too strongly to write much, and am
sure that your own mind is more composed than mine. I have endeavored to explain to Vere why I
have touched so lightly to my poor Sibella on her illness – why I have written
so irrelevently, and why, after all, I had so little idea that the close of all
our anxieties for her was so near. I
feel as if I had seemed to her thoughtless, careless – and this miserable
feeling distresses me more deeply than I can describe. I knew she could not recover – I knew she was
worse – but I never dreampt that I had heard from her for the last time, or think
not, while the door was thus opening that ushered her into eternity, I could
have passed it by so lightly, so prayerless, so signless of that Christian
belief and Christian hope that are our solid rock of comfort here. But she is happy – the dispensation that
released her from earthly suffering was one of great mercy; and it is
unpardonable selfishness to dwell on vain regrets. It is this situation that I
ought to think of – but melancholy as it is, you have that within that is a
very help in time of need.
Write
if you can, and when you can – It would be a satisfaction to me to hear more. God grant that you may be able to tell me,
her sufferings were as light as possible!
Remember me to all your family, and though I have not the pleasure of
knowing him by character, to the excellent uncle Sir Hector. I need not assure you of my sympathy – you
know that my affection for your sister was not an empty name, and you will
believe that I shall be forever interested in all she loved, and always, my
dear Bredalbane,
affectionately
and very truly yours,
A
Lister’
Was from the
heart, uncopied, and I cried over it a good deal. The first time I had shed or felt inclined to
shed a tear. Used small sized, broad black edged paper –
one full 1/2 sheet (small close writing) to ‘Miss Hobart Lady Stuart’s,
Whitehall’, and, in the same envelope, enclosed 1/2 sheet (very near 3 pages)
to ‘Miss Breadalbane Maclean.’
Sent
them off to the Embassy at 5 1/4, then sat musing till near 6. Wrote the notes of today, and then dinner at
6. Came to my room at 7 40/.., and there
and afterwards in the drawing room till 11 1/4, cutting open 8 or 9 volumes
Constable’s Miscellany.
Went
in to coffee at 9 1/4. Talked to my aunt of its being better for her to go to Shibden – 1st time of this subject being
mentioned since my return home.
Came to my room at 11 40/.. Fine morning till it began to be dampish with a drop or 2 of rain about 9 1/2, but cleared off, and finish day. F 47° at noon, and 43° now at 11 40/.. p.m. outside my bedroom window. Dampish feeling night.
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