Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic StorySimms, William Gilmore
General
Confession; Or, The Blind Heart. A Domestic Story
Simms, William Gilmore
Domestic fiction
or fine, uses the word 'nice'--more fitly applied to bon-bons or
beefsteaks, according to the stomach of the speaker. An energetic form
of speech is rated, in fashionable society, as particularly vulgar. In
our larger American cities, where they have much pretension but little
character, a leg must not be spoken of as such. You may say 'limb,' but
not 'leg.' The word 'woman'--one of the sweetest in the language--is
supposed to disparage the female to whom it is applied. She must be
called a 'lady,' forsooth; and this word, originally intended to pacify
an aristocratic vanity, has become the ordinary appellative of every
member of that gross family which, in the language of Shakspere, is only
fit to 'suckle fools and chronicle small beer.' I shall be more free,
and feel more honest in that rough world of the west; a region in which
the dilettantism, such as it is, of our Atlantic cities, is always very
prompt to sneer at and disparage; but I look to see the day, even in
our time, when that west shall be, not merely an empire herself, but the
nursing mother of great empires. There shall be a genius born in that
vast, wide world--a rough, unlicked genius it may be, but one whose
words shall fall upon the hills like thunder, and descend into the
valleys like a settled, heavy rain, which shall irrigate them all with a
new life. Perhaps--”
I need not pursue this. I throw it upon paper with no deliberation. It
streams from me like the rest. Its tone was somewhat derived from those
peculiar, sad feelings, and that pang-provoking course of thought, which
it has been the purpose of this narrative to embody. In the expression
of digressive but earnest notions like these, I could momentarily divert
myself from deeper and more painful emotions. I had really gone through
a great trial: I say a great trial--always assuming human indulgence for
that disease of the blind heart which led me where I found myself, which
makes me what I am. I did not feel lightly the pang of parting with my
birthplace. I did not esteem lightly the sacrifice of business, comfort,
and distinction which I was making; and of that greater cause of
suffering, supposed or real, of the falling off in my wife's affection,
the agony is already in part recorded. It may be permitted to me,
perhaps, under these circumstances--with the additional knowledge,
which I yet suppressed, that these sacrifices were to be made, and these
sufferings endured, partly that the son might be saved--to speak with
some unreserved warmth of tone to the venerable and worthy sire. He
little knew how much of my determination to remove from my country was
due to my regard for him. I felt assured that, if I remained, two things
must happen. William Edgerton would persevere in his madness, and I
should murder him in his perseverance! I banished myself in regard for
that old man, and in some measure to requite his benefactions, that I
might be spared this necessity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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