All this may have been deserved by Mr. Clifford, but it was scarcely
discreet in me. It gave him the opportunity which, I do not doubt,
he desired--the occasion which he had in view. It afforded him
an excuse for anger, for a regular outbreak between us, which, in
some sort, yielded him that justification for his refusal, without
which he would have found it a very difficult matter to account
for or excuse. We parted in mutual anger, the effect of which was
to close his doors against me, and exclude me from all opportunities
of interview with Julia, unless by stealth. Even then, these
opportunities were secured by my artifice, without her privity. As
dutiful as fond, she urged me against them; and, resolute to "honor
her father and mother" in obedience to those holy laws without a
compliance with which there is little hope and no happiness, she
informed me with many tears that she was now forbidden to see me,
and would therefore avoid every premeditated arrangement for our
meeting. I did not do justice to her character, but reproached her
with coldness--with a want of affection, sensibility, and feeling.
"Do not say so, Edward--do not--do not! I cold--I insensible--I
wanting in affection for you! How, how can you think so?" And she
threw herself on my bosom and sobbed until I began to fancy that
convulsions would follow.
We separated, finally, with assurances of mutual fidelity--assurances
which, I knew, from the exclusiveness of all my feelings, my
concentrative singleness of character, and entire dependence upon
the beloved object of those affections which were now the sole solace
of my heart, would not be difficult for me to keep. But I doubted
HER strength--HER resolution--against the pressing solicitations
of parents whom she had never been accustomed to withstand. But
she quieted me with that singular earnestness of look and manner
which had once before impressed me previous to our mutual explanation.
Like vulgar thinkers generally, I was apt to confound weakness of
frame and delicacy of organization with a want of courage and moral
resources of strength and consolation.
"Fear nothing for my truth, Edward. Though, in obedience to
my parents, I shall not marry against their will, be sure I shall
never marry against my own."
"Ah, Julia, you think so, but--"
"I know so, Edward. Believe nothing that you hear against me or of
me, which is unfavorable to my fidelity, until you hear it from my
own lips."
"But you will meet me again--soon?"
"No, no, do not ask it, Edward. We must not meet in this manner.
It is not right. It is criminal."
I had soon another proof of the decisive manner in which my uncle
seemed disposed to carry on the war between us. Erring, like
the greater number of our young men, in their ambitious desire to
enter public life prematurely, I was easily persuaded to become a
candidate for the general assembly. I was now just twenty-five--at
a time when young men are not yet released from the bias of early
associations, and the unavoidable influence of guides, who are
generally blind guides. Until thirty, there are few men who think
independently; and, until this habit is acquired--which, in too
many cases, never is acquired--the individual is sadly out of place
in the halls of legislation. It is this premature disposition to
enter into public life, which is the sole origin of the numberless
mistakes and miserable inconsistencies into which our statesmen
fall; which cling to their progress for ever after, preventing
their performances, and baffling them in all their hopes to secure
the confidence of the people. They are broken-down political hacks
in the prime of life, and just at the time when they should be
first entering upon the duties of the public man. Seduced, like
the rest, as well by my own vanity as the suggestions of favoring
friends, I permitted my name to be announced, and engaged actively
in the canvass. Perhaps the feverish state of my mind, in consequence
of my relations with Julia Clifford and her parents, made me more
willing to adopt a measure, about which, at any other time, I
should have been singularly slow and cautious. As a man of proud,
reserved, and suspicious temper, I had little or no confidence in
my own strength with the people; and defeat would be more mortifying
than success grateful to a person of my pride. I fancied, however,
that popular life would somewhat subdue the consuming passions which
were rioting within my bosom; and I threw myself into the thick of
the struggle with all the ardor of a sanguine temperament.