But in all Sterling's sorrows and illnesses, he never seems to have
lost his interest in life and thought, in ideas, questions, and
problems. Again and again he came back to the surface, with an
irrepressible zest and freshness, and even gaiety, until at last
all hope of life was extinguished. He lay dying for many weeks, and
it was then that he wrote his last letter to Carlyle, which must be
given in full:--
HILLSIDE, VENTNOR,
10th August 1844.
MY DEAR CARLYLE,--For the first time for many months it seems
possible to send you a few words; merely, however, for Remembrance
and Farewell. On higher matters there is nothing to say. I tread
the common road into the great darkness, without any thought of
fear, and with very much of hope. Certainty indeed I have none.
With regard to you and me I cannot begin to write; having nothing
for it but to keep shut the lid of those secrets with all the iron
weights that are in my power. Towards me it is still more true than
towards England that no man has been and done like you. Heaven
bless you! If I can lend a hand when THERE, that will not be
wanting.
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