Deathbed in Burslem

On Wednesday afternoon I went to Burslem to see Mater [his mother], reported to be past hope. I saw her at 8 p.m. and remained alone with her for about halfg an hour. She looked very small, especially her head in the hollow of the pillows. The outlines of her face vey sharp; hectic cheeks; breathed with her mouth open, and much rumour of breath in her body; her nose was more hooked, had in fact become hooked. Scanty hair. Sher had a very weak, self-pitying voice, but with sudden outbursts f strong voive, imperative, and flinging out of arms. She still had a great deal of strength/ She forgot most times in the middle of a sentence, and it took her a long time to recall.

   She was very glad to see me and held my hand all the time under bedclothes. She spoke of the most trifling things a if tremendously important – as e.g. decisions as if they were momentous and dictated by profound sagacity. ‘What do you say?’ rather loud. She had no pain, but often muttered in anguish: ‘What am I to do? What am I to do?’ Amid tossed bedclothes you could see numbers on corners of blankets. On medicine table siphon, saucer, spoon, large soap-dish, brass flower-bowl (empty). The gas (very bad burner) screened by a contraption of Family Bible, some wooden thing, and a newspaper. It wasn’t level. She had it altered. She said it annoyed her terribly. Gas stove burning. Temperature barely 60º.  Dam chill, penetrating my legs. The clock had a very light, delicate striking sound. Trams and buses did not disturb her, though sometimes they made talking difficult. 

   Round-topped panels of wardrobe. She wanted to be satisfied that her purse was on a particular tray of the wardrobe. The Mater has arterial sclerosis and patchy congestion of the lungs. Her condition was very distressing, and it seemed strange that this should necessarily be the end of a life, that a life couldn’t always end more easily. I went in again at 11.45 p.m. She was asleep, breathing noisily. Nurse, in black, installed for night. The Mater had a frequent very bright smile, but it would go in an instant. She asked for her false teeth, and she wanted her ears syringed again, so that she could hear better. This morning she was easier, after a good night, but certainly weaker. Mouth closed and eyes shut tight today. Lifting of chin right up to get head in line with body for breathing. A bad sign..

                                                                       Arnold Bennett's Journals, Friday, November 20^th 1914