Confession - Page 94/274

I little knew myself! This knowledge of one's self is the

most important knowledge, which very few of us acquire. We seldom

look into our own hearts for other objects than those which will

administer to their petty vanities and passing triumphs. Could we

only look there sometimes for the truth! But we are blind--blind

all! In some respects I was one of the blindest!

I have given a brief glimpse of our honeymoon. Perhaps, as the

world goes, the picture is by no means an attractive one. Quiet

felicity forms but a small item in the sources of happiness,

now-a-days, among young couples. Mine was sufficiently quiet and

sufficiently humble. One would suppose that he who builds so lowly

should have no reason to apprehend the hurricane. Social ambition

was clearly no object with either of us. We sighed neither for

the glitter nor the regards of fashionable life. Neither upon

fine houses, jewels, or equipages, did we set our hearts. For the

pleasures of the table I had no passion, and never was young woman

so thoroughly regardless of display as Julia Clifford. To be let

alone--to be suffered to escape in our own way, unharming, unharmed,

through the dim avenues of life--was assuredly all that we asked

from man. Perhaps--I say it without cant--this, perhaps, was all

that we possibly asked from heaven. This was all that I asked, at

least, and this was much. It was asking what had never yet been

accorded to humanity. In the vain assumption of my heart I thought

that my demands were moderate.

Let no man console himself with the idea that his chances of

success are multiplied in degree with the insignificance, or seeming

insignificance, of his aims. Perhaps the very reverse of this is

the truth. He who seeks for many objects of enjoyment--whose tastes

are diversified--has probably the very best prospect that some of

them may be gratified. He is like the merchant whose ventures on

the sea are divided among many vessels. He may lose one or more,

yet preserve the main bulk of his fortune from the wreck. But he

who has only a single bark--one freightage, however costly--whose

whole estate is invested in the one venture--let him lose that, and

all is lost. It does not matter that his loss, speaking relatively,

is but little. Suppose his shipment, in general estimation, to be

of small value. The loss to him is so much the greater. It was the

dearer to him because of its insignificance, and being all that he

had; is quite as conclusive of his ruin, as would be the foundering

of every vessel which the rich merchant sent to sea.

I was one of these petty traders. I invested my whole capital

of the affections in one precious jewel. Did I lose it, or simply

fear its loss? Time must show. But, of a truth, I felt as the miser

feels with his hoarded treasure. While I watched its richness and

beauty, doubts and dread beset me. Was it safe? Everything depended

upon its security. Thieves might break in and steal. Enough, for

the present, to say, that much of my security, and of the security

of all who, like me, possess a dear treasure, depends upon our

convictions of security. He who apprehends loss, is already robbed.

The reality is scarcely worse than the hourly anticipation of it.