{"id":27575,"date":"2026-04-18T15:00:17","date_gmt":"2026-04-18T19:00:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=27575"},"modified":"2026-04-18T15:00:18","modified_gmt":"2026-04-18T19:00:18","slug":"charles-dickens-a-madmans-manuscript","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/charles-dickens-a-madmans-manuscript\/27575\/","title":{"rendered":"Charles Dickens: A Madman\u2019s Manuscript"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis:<\/strong> \u201cA Madman\u2019s Manuscript\u201d is a short story by Charles Dickens, published in 1836 as part of The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club<\/em>. Presented as a manuscript found in an asylum, it tells the story of a man who describes his gradual descent into madness. A descendant of a family plagued by insanity, he is obsessed with the idea of inheriting the same fate. This fear consumes him, isolating him from the world and trapping him in a spiral of paranoia and despair. As his obsession grows, his reality becomes distorted, and his worst fears begin to take shape.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"Charles<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

A Madman\u2019s Manuscript<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Charles Dickens
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Yes! \u2014 a madman\u2019s! How that word would have struck to my heart, many years ago! How it would have roused the terror that used to come upon me sometimes, sending the blood hissing and tingling through my veins, till the cold dew of fear stood in large drops upon my skin, and my knees knocked together with fright! I like it now though. It\u2019s a fine name. Show me the monarch whose angry frown was ever feared like the glare of a madman\u2019s eye \u2014 whose cord and axe were ever half so sure as a madman\u2019s gripe. Ho! ho! It\u2019s a grand thing to be mad! to be peeped at like a wild lion through the iron bars \u2014 to gnash one\u2019s teeth and howl, through the long still night, to the merry ring of a heavy chain and to roll and twine among the straw, transported with such brave music. Hurrah for the madhouse! Oh, it\u2019s a rare place!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I remember days when I was afraid of being mad; when I used to start from my sleep, and fall upon my knees, and pray to be spared from the curse of my race; when I rushed from the sight of merriment or happiness, to hide myself in some lonely place, and spend the weary hours in watching the progress of the fever that was to consume my brain. I knew that madness was mixed up with my very blood, and the marrow of my bones! that one generation had passed away without the pestilence appearing among them, and that I was the first in whom it would revive. I knew it must be so: that so it always had been, and so it ever would be: and when I cowered in some obscure corner of a crowded room, and saw men whisper, and point, and turn their eyes towards me, I knew they were telling each other of the doomed madman; and I slunk away again to mope in solitude.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I did this for years; long, long years they were. The nights here are long sometimes \u2014 very long; but they are nothing to the restless nights, and dreadful dreams I had at that time. It makes me cold to remember them. Large dusky forms with sly and jeering faces crouched in the corners of the room, and bent over my bed at night, tempting me to madness. They told me in low whispers, that the floor of the old house in which my father died, was stained with his own blood, shed by his own hand in raging madness. I drove my fingers into my ears, but they screamed into my head till the room rang with it, that in one generation before him the madness slumbered, but that his grandfather had lived for years with his hands fettered to the ground, to prevent his tearing himself to pieces. I knew they told the truth \u2014 I knew it well. I had found it out years before, though they had tried to keep it from me. Ha! ha! I was too cunning for them, madman as they thought me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018At last it came upon me, and I wondered how I could ever have feared it. I could go into the world now, and laugh and shout with the best among them. I knew I was mad, but they did not even suspect it. How I used to hug myself with delight, when I thought of the fine trick I was playing them after their old pointing and leering, when I was not mad, but only dreading that I might one day become so! And how I used to laugh for joy, when I was alone, and thought how well I kept my secret, and how quickly my kind friends would have fallen from me, if they had known the truth. I could have screamed with ecstasy when I dined alone with some fine roaring fellow, to think how pale he would have turned, and how fast he would have run, if he had known that the dear friend who sat close to him, sharpening a bright, glittering knife, was a madman with all the power, and half the will, to plunge it in his heart. Oh, it was a merry life!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Riches became mine, wealth poured in upon me, and I rioted in pleasures enhanced a thousandfold to me by the consciousness of my well-kept secret. I inherited an estate. The law \u2014 the eagle-eyed law itself \u2014 had been deceived, and had handed over disputed thousands to a madman\u2019s hands. Where was the wit of the sharp-sighted men of sound mind? Where the dexterity of the lawyers, eager to discover a flaw? The madman\u2019s cunning had overreached them all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I had money. How I was courted! I spent it profusely. How I was praised! How those three proud, overbearing brothers humbled themselves before me! The old, white-headed father, too \u2014 such deference \u2014 such respect \u2014 such devoted friendship \u2014 he worshipped me! The old man had a daughter, and the young men a sister; and all the five were poor. I was rich; and when I married the girl, I saw a smile of triumph play upon the faces of her needy relatives, as they thought of their well-planned scheme, and their fine prize. It was for me to smile. To smile! To laugh outright, and tear my hair, and roll upon the ground with shrieks of merriment. They little thought they had married her to a madman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Stay. If they had known it, would they have saved her? A sister\u2019s happiness against her husband\u2019s gold. The lightest feather I blow into the air, against the gay chain that ornaments my body!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018In one thing I was deceived with all my cunning. If I had not been mad \u2014 for though we madmen are sharp-witted enough, we get bewildered sometimes \u2014 I should have known that the girl would rather have been placed, stiff and cold in a dull leaden coffin, than borne an envied bride to my rich, glittering house. I should have known that her heart was with the dark-eyed boy whose name I once heard her breathe in her troubled sleep; and that she had been sacrificed to me, to relieve the poverty of the old, white-headed man and the haughty brothers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I don\u2019t remember forms or faces now, but I know the girl was beautiful. I know she was; for in the bright moonlight nights, when I start up from my sleep, and all is quiet about me, I see, standing still and motionless in one corner of this cell, a slight and wasted figure with long black hair, which, streaming down her back, stirs with no earthly wind, and eyes that fix their gaze on me, and never wink or close. Hush! the blood chills at my heart as I write it down \u2014 that form is HERS; the face is very pale, and the eyes are glassy bright; but I know them well. That figure never moves; it never frowns and mouths as others do, that fill this place sometimes; but it is much more dreadful to me, even than the spirits that tempted me many years ago \u2014 it comes fresh from the grave; and is so very death-like.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018For nearly a year I saw that face grow paler; for nearly a year I saw the tears steal down the mournful cheeks, and never knew the cause. I found it out at last though. They could not keep it from me long. She had never liked me; I had never thought she did: she despised my wealth, and hated the splendour in which she lived; but I had not expected that. She loved another. This I had never thought of. Strange feelings came over me, and thoughts, forced upon me by some secret power, whirled round and round my brain. I did not hate her, though I hated the boy she still wept for. I pitied \u2014 yes, I pitied \u2014 the wretched life to which her cold and selfish relations had doomed her. I knew that she could not live long; but the thought that before her death she might give birth to some ill-fated being, destined to hand down madness to its offspring, determined me. I resolved to kill her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018For many weeks I thought of poison, and then of drowning, and then of fire. A fine sight, the grand house in flames, and the madman\u2019s wife smouldering away to cinders. Think of the jest of a large reward, too, and of some sane man swinging in the wind for a deed he never did, and all through a madman\u2019s cunning! I thought often of this, but I gave it up at last. Oh! the pleasure of stropping the razor day after day, feeling the sharp edge, and thinking of the gash one stroke of its thin, bright edge would make!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018At last the old spirits who had been with me so often before whispered in my ear that the time was come, and thrust the open razor into my hand. I grasped it firmly, rose softly from the bed, and leaned over my sleeping wife. Her face was buried in her hands. I withdrew them softly, and they fell listlessly on her bosom. She had been weeping; for the traces of the tears were still wet upon her cheek. Her face was calm and placid; and even as I looked upon it, a tranquil smile lighted up her pale features. I laid my hand softly on her shoulder. She started \u2014 it was only a passing dream. I leaned forward again. She screamed, and woke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018One motion of my hand, and she would never again have uttered cry or sound. But I was startled, and drew back. Her eyes were fixed on mine. I knew not how it was, but they cowed and frightened me; and I quailed beneath them. She rose from the bed, still gazing fixedly and steadily on me. I trembled; the razor was in my hand, but I could not move. She made towards the door. As she neared it, she turned, and withdrew her eyes from my face. The spell was broken. I bounded forward, and clutched her by the arm. Uttering shriek upon shriek, she sank upon the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Now I could have killed her without a struggle; but the house was alarmed. I heard the tread of footsteps on the stairs. I replaced the razor in its usual drawer, unfastened the door, and called loudly for assistance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018They came, and raised her, and placed her on the bed. She lay bereft of animation for hours; and when life, look, and speech returned, her senses had deserted her, and she raved wildly and furiously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Doctors were called in \u2014 great men who rolled up to my door in easy carriages, with fine horses and gaudy servants. They were at her bedside for weeks. They had a great meeting and consulted together in low and solemn voices in another room. One, the cleverest and most celebrated among them, took me aside, and bidding me prepare for the worst, told me \u2014 me, the madman! \u2014 that my wife was mad. He stood close beside me at an open window, his eyes looking in my face, and his hand laid upon my arm. With one effort, I could have hurled him into the street beneath. It would have been rare sport to have done it; but my secret was at stake, and I let him go. A few days after, they told me I must place her under some restraint: I must provide a keeper for her. I! I went into the open fields where none could hear me, and laughed till the air resounded with my shouts!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018She died next day. The white-headed old man followed her to the grave, and the proud brothers dropped a tear over the insensible corpse of her whose sufferings they had regarded in her lifetime with muscles of iron. All this was food for my secret mirth, and I laughed behind the white handkerchief which I held up to my face, as we rode home, till the tears Came into my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018But though I had carried my object and killed her, I was restless and disturbed, and I felt that before long my secret must be known. I could not hide the wild mirth and joy which boiled within me, and made me when I was alone, at home, jump up and beat my hands together, and dance round and round, and roar aloud. When I went out, and saw the busy crowds hurrying about the streets; or to the theatre, and heard the sound of music, and beheld the people dancing, I felt such glee, that I could have rushed among them, and torn them to pieces limb from limb, and howled in transport. But I ground my teeth, and struck my feet upon the floor, and drove my sharp nails into my hands. I kept it down; and no one knew I was a madman yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I remember \u2014 though it\u2019s one of the last things I can remember: for now I mix up realities with my dreams, and having so much to do, and being always hurried here, have no time to separate the two, from some strange confusion in which they get involved \u2014 I remember how I let it out at last. Ha! ha! I think I see their frightened looks now, and feel the ease with which I flung them from me, and dashed my clenched fist into their white faces, and then flew like the wind, and left them screaming and shouting far behind. The strength of a giant comes upon me when I think of it. There \u2014 see how this iron bar bends beneath my furious wrench. I could snap it like a twig, only there are long galleries here with many doors \u2014 I don\u2019t think I could find my way along them; and even if I could, I know there are iron gates below which they keep locked and barred. They know what a clever madman I have been, and they are proud to have me here, to show.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Let me see: yes, I had been out. It was late at night when I reached home, and found the proudest of the three proud brothers waiting to see me \u2014 urgent business he said: I recollect it well. I hated that man with all a madman\u2019s hate. Many and many a time had my fingers longed to tear him. They told me he was there. I ran swiftly upstairs. He had a word to say to me. I dismissed the servants. It was late, and we were alone together \u2014 for the first time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I kept my eyes carefully from him at first, for I knew what he little thought \u2014 and I gloried in the knowledge \u2014 that the light of madness gleamed from them like fire. We sat in silence for a few minutes. He spoke at last. My recent dissipation, and strange remarks, made so soon after his sister\u2019s death, were an insult to her memory. Coupling together many circumstances which had at first escaped his observation, he thought I had not treated her well. He wished to know whether he was right in inferring that I meant to cast a reproach upon her memory, and a disrespect upon her family. It was due to the uniform he wore, to demand this explanation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018This man had a commission in the army \u2014 a commission, purchased with my money, and his sister\u2019s misery! This was the man who had been foremost in the plot to ensnare me, and grasp my wealth. This was the man who had been the main instrument in forcing his sister to wed me; well knowing that her heart was given to that puling boy. Due to his uniform! The livery of his degradation! I turned my eyes upon him \u2014 I could not help it \u2014 but I spoke not a word.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I saw the sudden change that came upon him beneath my gaze. He was a bold man, but the colour faded from his face, and he drew back his chair. I dragged mine nearer to him; and I laughed \u2014 I was very merry then \u2014 I saw him shudder. I felt the madness rising within me. He was afraid of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u201cYou were very fond of your sister when she was alive,\u201d I said. \u2014 \u201cVery.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018He looked uneasily round him, and I saw his hand grasp the back of his chair; but he said nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u201cYou villain,\u201d said I, \u201cI found you out: I discovered your hellish plots against me; I know her heart was fixed on some one else before you compelled her to marry me. I know it \u2014 I know it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018He jumped suddenly from his chair, brandished it aloft, and bid me stand back \u2014 for I took care to be getting closer to him all the time I spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I screamed rather than talked, for I felt tumultuous passions eddying through my veins, and the old spirits whispering and taunting me to tear his heart out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018\u201cDamn you,\u201d said I, starting up, and rushing upon him; \u201cI killed her. I am a madman. Down with you. Blood, blood! I will have it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I turned aside with one blow the chair he hurled at me in his terror, and closed with him; and with a heavy crash we rolled upon the floor together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018It was a fine struggle that; for he was a tall, strong man, fighting for his life; and I, a powerful madman, thirsting to destroy him. I knew no strength could equal mine, and I was right. Right again, though a madman! His struggles grew fainter. I knelt upon his chest, and clasped his brawny throat firmly with both hands. His face grew purple; his eyes were starting from his head, and with protruded tongue, he seemed to mock me. I squeezed the tighter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018The door was suddenly burst open with a loud noise, and a crowd of people rushed forward, crying aloud to each other to secure the madman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018My secret was out; and my only struggle now was for liberty and freedom. I gained my feet before a hand was on me, threw myself among my assailants, and cleared my way with my strong arm, as if I bore a hatchet in my hand, and hewed them down before me. I gained the door, dropped over the banisters, and in an instant was in the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Straight and swift I ran, and no one dared to stop me. I heard the noise of the feet behind, and redoubled my speed. It grew fainter and fainter in the distance, and at length died away altogether; but on I bounded, through marsh and rivulet, over fence and wall, with a wild shout which was taken up by the strange beings that flocked around me on every side, and swelled the sound, till it pierced the air. I was borne upon the arms of demons who swept along upon the wind, and bore down bank and hedge before them, and spun me round and round with a rustle and a speed that made my head swim, until at last they threw me from them with a violent shock, and I fell heavily upon the earth. When I woke I found myself here \u2014 here in this gray cell, where the sunlight seldom comes, and the moon steals in, in rays which only serve to show the dark shadows about me, and that silent figure in its old corner. When I lie awake, I can sometimes hear strange shrieks and cries from distant parts of this large place. What they are, I know not; but they neither come from that pale form, nor does it regard them. For from the first shades of dusk till the earliest light of morning, it still stands motionless in the same place, listening to the music of my iron chain, and watching my gambols on my straw bed.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

* * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the end of the manuscript was written, in another hand, this note: \u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[The unhappy man whose ravings are recorded above, was a melancholy instance of the baneful results of energies misdirected in early life, and excesses prolonged until their consequences could never be repaired. The thoughtless riot, dissipation, and debauchery of his younger days produced fever and delirium. The first effects of the latter, was the strange delusion, founded upon a well-known medical theory, strongly contended for by some, and as strongly contested by others, that an hereditary madness existed in his family. This produced a settled gloom, which in time developed a morbid insanity, and finally terminated in raving madness. There is every reason to believe that the events he detailed, though distorted in the description by his diseased imagination, really happened. It is only matter of wonder to those who were acquainted with the vices of his early career, that his passions, when no longer controlled by reason, did not lead him to the commission of still more frightful deeds.]<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cA Madman\u2019s Manuscript\u201d is a short story by Charles Dickens, published in 1836 as part of The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club. Presented as a manuscript found in an asylum, it tells the story of a man who describes his gradual descent into madness. A descendant of a family plagued by insanity, he is obsessed with the idea of inheriting the same fate. This fear consumes him, isolating him from the world and trapping him in a spiral of paranoia and despair. As his obsession grows, his reality becomes distorted, and his worst fears begin to take shape.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":21530,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[568,572,772],"class_list":["post-27575","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-charles-dickens-en","tag-horror-en","tag-united-kingdom","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":568,"label":"Charles Dickens"},{"value":572,"label":"Horror"},{"value":772,"label":"United Kingdom"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/04\/Charles-Dickens-El-manuscrito-de-un-loco-edit2.webp",1024,1024,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":420,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":420,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":568,"name":"Charles Dickens","slug":"charles-dickens-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":568,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":6,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":572,"name":"Horror","slug":"horror-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":572,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":128,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":772,"name":"United Kingdom","slug":"united-kingdom","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":772,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":93,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27575","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=27575"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27575\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27576,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27575\/revisions\/27576"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/21530"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27575"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27575"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27575"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}