Virginia Woolf was one of the greatest English authors who wrote some groundbreaking novels which are considered a masterpiece even today. A woman of profound intelligence and sensitivity, she died a tragic and painful death.
On March 28, 1941, the author had left her home at Lewes, Sussex, in England for a walk, never to return. She often walked along the banks of the Ouse river, but nobody knew that one of the finest writers of English Literature would breathe her last that day. After a long struggle with mental illness, Woolf finally succumbed to her demons. That day, she filled the pockets of her coat with stones and drowned herself in the river.
On April 2, 1941 , the New York times reported that her hat and cane were found on the bank of the Ouse River.
Woolf was 58 years old when the mental illness tightened its grip on her and she decided to end her life. She left behind a poignant and heartbreaking letter addressed to her husband, Leonard Woolf. She thanked him for his patience with her and explained how she’d not be able to carry on the struggle anymore.
To this day, her letter remains one of the most heartbreaking memories of the author who enriched English literature with her tremendous works.
Here’s what it reads:
Dearest,
I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that – everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer.
I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.
Here’s the handwritten letter in Woolf’s handwriting.
Such a sad end to a such an enriching life.
