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The Lifted Veil
by George Eliot ＇Mary Anne Evans＇
CHAPTER I
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 come。 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 comes； 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 compliment； or
envious affectation of indifference； while the creative brain can
still throb with the sense of injustice； with the yearning for
brotherly recognitionmake hasteoppress it with your ill…
considered judgements； your trivial comparisons； 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 accompanies 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 complaint
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 become 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 as I mounted； no glad arms opened to me when I
came back。 Perhaps I missed my mother's love more than most
children of seven or eight would have done； to whom the other
pleasures of life remained as before； for I was certainly a very
sensitive child。 I remember still the mingled trepidation and
delicious excitement with which I was affected by the tramping of
the horses on the pavement in the echoing stables； by the loud
resonance of the groom's voices； by the booming bark of the dogs as
my father's carriage thundered under the archway of the courtyard；
by the din of the gong as it gave notice of luncheon and dinner。
The measured tramp of soldiery which I sometimes heardfor my
father's house lay near a county town where there were large
barracksmade me sob and tremble； and yet when they were gone
past； I longed for them to come back again。
I fancy my father thought me an odd child； and had little fondness
for me； though he was very careful in fulfilling what he regarded
as a parent's duties。 But he was already past the middle of life；
and I was not his only son。 My mother had been his second wife；
and he was five…and…forty when he married her。 He was a firm；
unbending； intensely orderly man； in root and stem a banker； but
with a flourishing graft of the active landholder； aspiring to
county influence： one of those people who are always like
themselves from day to day； who are uninfluenced by the weather；
and neither know melancholy nor high spirits。 I held him in great
awe； and appeared more timid and sensitive in his presence than at
other times； a circumstance which； perhaps； helped to confirm him
in the intention to educate me on a different plan from the
prescriptive one with which he had complied in the case of my elder
brother； already a tall youth at Eton。 My brother was to be