Shed no tear for me; for I shed none for myself.
I should find it mortifying in the highest degree if those hearing of my childhood believed this record to be one of complaint; and if, swayed by some description of my circumstances, their hearts melted without cause, due more to the novelty of my situation than its rigors.
When I review this epoch, however it may seem to others, to me it appears a period of singular bounty; for having seen what I since have seen, I recognize how merciful Providence was in supplying me with luxuries: the sumptuous foods upon the table, the glory of music, the gift of literacy, the opportunities to survey the advancement of learning; but more than these, I look about me now — notwithstanding the terrors I have seen — and I declare it well befits me to thank our God for simpler pleasures than these, than teak or gold or India cloth. Daily, in my youth, should not I have fallen upon my knees and thanked Him who died for us upon the Cross for the warmth of kindled fires, for the freedom to swing my hands in the air? Should I not have praised Him for the liberty to open doors and pass through them, for the escape from drudgery, and most, my mother’s hand to hold?
I consider those numberless of our race huddled beneath the rudest of roofs, lying amidst brackish water, skulls abuzz with sickness, knowing that tomorrow they shall rise and shall labor at some pitiless industry — those who have not had the blessings of warmth or liberty or family or friend — reduced to animal want and groans — and then I turn from my sufferings as mere trifles. I was fed and clothed in silks.
And know I did not weep then for myself; I did not know how one might. I looked upon my being as did those who raised me; I accounted myself an experimental subject to be observed and noted; and even within me, in my moments of sorrow or fear, there were two discourses: one which cried, and one which recorded that cry without compassion; one intelligence which wished warmly for an embrace; and the other which did not grant it and did not speak, but Observed, watchful, hands folded, inactive, and stylus at the ready.
If one massy Eye regarded me coldly from behind my back, it was my own.