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The time of my end approaches。 I have lately been subject to attacks
of angina pectoris； and in the ordinary course of things； my physician tells
me； I may fairly hope that my life will not be protracted many months。
Unless； then； I am cursed with an exceptional physical constitution； as I
am cursed with an exceptional mental character； I shall not much longer
groan under the wearisome burthen of this earthly existence。 If it were to
be otherwiseif I were to live on to the age most men desire and provide
forI should for once have known whether the miseries of delusive
expectation can outweigh the miseries of true provision。 For I foresee
when I shall die； and everything that will happen in my last moments。
Just a month from this day； on September 20； 1850； I shall be sitting in
this chair； in this study； at ten o'clock at night； longing to die； weary of
incessant insight and foresight； without delusions and without hope。 Just
as I am watching a tongue of blue flame rising in the fire； and my lamp is
burning low； the horrible contraction will begin at my chest。 I shall only
have time to reach the bell； and pull it violently； before the sense of
suffocation will e。 No one will answer my bell。 I know why。 My
two servants are lovers； and will have quarrelled。 My housekeeper will
have rushed out of the house in a fury； two hours before； hoping that Perry
will believe she has gone to drown herself。 Perry is alarmed at last； and
is gone out after her。 The little scullery…maid is asleep on a bench： she
never answers the bell； it does not wake her。 The sense of suffocation
increases： my lamp goes out with a horrible stench： I make a great effort；
and snatch at the bell again。 I long for life； and there is no help。 I
thirsted for the unknown： the thirst is gone。 O God； let me stay with
the known； and be weary of it： I am content。 Agony of pain and
suffocationand all the while the earth； the fields； the pebbly brook at the
bottom of the rookery； the fresh scent after the rain； the light of the
morning through my chamber…window； the warmth of the hearth after the
frosty airwill darkness close over them for ever？
Darknessdarknessno painnothing but darkness： but I am passing
on and on through the darkness： my thought stays in the darkness； but
always with a sense of moving onward 。 。 。
Before that time es； I wish to use my last hours of ease and
strength in telling the strange story of my experience。 I have never fully
unbosomed myself to any human being； I have never been encouraged to
trust much in the sympathy of my fellow…men。 But we have all a chance
of meeting with some pity； some tenderness； some charity； when we are
dead： it is the living only who cannot be forgiventhe living only from
whom men's indulgence and reverence are held off； like the rain by the
hard east wind。 While the heart beats； bruise itit is your only
opportunity； while the eye can still turn towards you with moist； timid
entreaty； freeze it with an icy unanswering gaze； while the ear； that
delicate messenger to the inmost sanctuary of the soul； can still take in the
tones of kindness； put it off with hard civility； or sneering pliment； or
envious affectation of indifference； while the creative brain can still throb
with the sense of injustice； with the yearning for brotherly recognition
make hasteoppress it with your ill… considered judgements； your trivial
parisons； your careless misrepresentations。 The heart will by and by
be still〃ubi saeva indignatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit〃； the eye will
cease to entreat； the ear will be deaf； the brain will have ceased from all
wants as well as from all work。 Then your charitable speeches may find
vent； then you may remember and pity the toil and the struggle and the
failure； then you may give due honour to the work achieved； then you may
find extenuation for errors； and may consent to bury them。
That is a trivial schoolboy text； why do I dwell on it？ It has little
reference to me； for I shall leave no works behind me for men to honour。
I have no near relatives who will make up； by weeping over my grave； for
the wounds they inflicted on me when I was among them。 It is only the
story of my life that will perhaps win a little more sympathy from
strangers when I am dead； than I ever believed it would obtain from my
friends while I was living。
My childhood perhaps seems happier to me than it really was； by
contrast with all the after…years。 For then the curtain of the future was as
impenetrable to me as to other children： I had all their delight in the
present hour； their sweet indefinite hopes for the morrow； and I had a
tender mother： even now； after the dreary lapse of long years； a slight
trace of sensation acpanies the remembrance of her caress as she held
me on her kneeher arms round my little body； her cheek pressed on mine。
I had a plaint of the eyes that made me blind for a little while； and she
kept me on her knee from morning till night。 That unequalled love soon
vanished out of my life； and even to my childish consciousness it was as if
that life had bee more chill I rode my little white pony with the groom
by my side as before； but there were no loving eyes looking at me a