Becoming America - An Exploration of American Literature from Precolonial to Post-Revolution, 2018a

BECOMING AMERICA
REVOLUTIONARY AND EARLY NATIONAL PERIOD LITERATURE
that privilege, that consolation, was denied me! The day on which I meant to visit
her, most of my property was attached, and, to secure the rest, I was obliged to
shut my doors and become a prisoner in my own house. High living, and old debts
incurred by extravagance, had reduced the fortune of my wife to very little, and I
could not satisfy the clamorous demands of my creditors.
I would have given millions, had I possessed them, to have been at liberty
to see, and to have had the power to preserve Eliza from death. But in vain was
my anxiety; it could not relieve, it could not liberate me. When I rst heard the
dreadful tidings of her exit, I believe I acted like a madman; indeed, I am little
else now. I have compounded with my creditors, and resigned the whole of my
property. Thus that splendor and equipage, to secure which I have sacriced a
virtuous woman, is taken from me. That poverty, the dread of which prevented
my forming an honorable connection with an amiable and accomplished girl,—the
only one I ever loved,—has fallen with redoubled vengeance upon my guilty head,
and I must become a vagabond on the earth.
I shall y my country as soon as possible. I shall go from every object which
reminds me of my departed Eliza; but never, never shall I eradicate from my bosom
the idea of her excellence, nor the painful remembrance of the injuries I have
done her. Her shade will perpetually haunt me; the image of her—as she appeared
when mounting the carriage which conveyed her forever from my sight, waving
her hand in token of a last adieu—will always be present to my imagination; the
solemn counsel she gave me before we parted, never more to meet, will not cease
to resound in my ears.
While my being is prolonged, I must feel the disgraceful and torturing eects
of my guilt in seducing her. How madly have I deprived her of happiness, of
reputation, of life! Her friends, could they know the pangs of contrition and the
horrors of conscience which attend me, would be amply revenged.
It is said she quitted the world with composure and peace. Well she might. She
had not that insupportable weight of iniquity which sinks me to despair. She found
consolation in that religion which I have ridiculed as priestcraft and hypocrisy.
But, whether it be true or false, would to Heaven I could now enjoy the comforts
which its votaries evidently feel.
My wife has left me. As we lived together without love, we parted without regret.
Now, Charles, I am to bid you a long, perhaps a last farewell. Where I shall
roam in future, I neither know nor care. I shall go where the name of Sanford is
unknown, and his person and sorrows unnoticed.
In this happy clime I have nothing to induce my stay. I have not money to
support me with my proigate companions, nor have I any relish, at present, for
their society. By the virtuous part of the community I am shunned as the pest and
bane of social enjoyment. In short, I am debarred from every kind of happiness.
If I look back, I recoil with horror from the black catalogue of vices which have
stained my past life, and reduced me to indigence and contempt. If I look forward,
I shudder at the prospects which my foreboding mind presents to view both in this
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