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LETTER 03

A GREAT DESERT LIES AHEAD OF ME

Edith Wharton to John Hugh Smith

15 October 1927

Edith Wharton’s lifelong relationship with Walter Van Rensselaer Berry began in 1883, as both holidayed in Bar Harbor, Maine. Their connection was instant and natural. Two years later, she wed another man, Edward, thus beginning an unfulfilling marriage that lasted eighteen years – most of which were unhappy – and ended in divorce. She would later write her most celebrated novel, The Age of Innocence (1920), for which she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Literature: she was, in fact, the first woman to receive the accolade. Six years later, Walter Berry died following a long illness, the final stretch of which saw Wharton take care of him. Shortly after Berry passed away, Wharton wrote this letter to her friend, John Hugh Smith. She would later call Berry ‘the great love of all my life’.

THE LETTER

Pavillon Colombe

St. Brice

October 15, 1927

My dearest John— All my friends have sent me words of sympathy, but only you have said just what I wanted, what I needed. Thank you, dear.

Yes, I am glad indeed that it is over, but I perceive now that I, who thought I loved solitude, was never for one moment alone—& a great desert lies ahead of me.

The sense of desolation (though of thankfulness too, of course) is unspeakably increased by those last days together, when he wanted me so close, & held me so fast, that all the old flame & glory came back, in the cold shadow of death & parting. Oh, my dear, I sometimes feel I am too old to live through such hours, & take up the daily round again.

But I remember what you say, & I am proud of having kept such a perfect friendship after the great days were over, & always to have felt that, through all the coming & going of things in his eager ambitious life, I was there, in the place he put me in so many years ago, the place of perfect understanding.

I don’t think I ever bothered him but once—& when he felt that the busy brilliant days were over, he liked to have me with him, because he knew I wouldn’t fuss & sentimentalize, or try to divert his eyes from the end we both knew they were fixed on. He hated humbug—so do I.—And now I’m so grateful to all my friends for understanding what I feel—& you most, dear John.

Edith

Robert is staying with me, & won’t leave till after the funeral. He has been kindness itself.