England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century
Like all proud natures condemned to solitude, he tried to convince
himself that he had no need of society, that he despised its
attractions, and could be self-sufficing. So far was this from the
truth that he often regarded with bitter envy those of his
fellow-students who had the social air, who conversed freely among
their equals, and showed that the pursuits of the College were only a
part of their existence. These young men were either preparing for the
University, or would pass from Whitelaw to business, profession,
official training; in any case, a track was marked out for them by the
zealous care of relatives and friends, and their efforts would always
be aided, applauded, by a kindly circle. Some of them Godwin could not
but admire, so healthful were they, so bright of intellect, and
courteous in manner,--a type distinct from any he had formerly
observed. Others were antipathetic to him. Their aggressive gentility
conflicted with the wariness of his self-esteem; such a one, for
instance, as Bruno Chilvers, the sound of whose mincing voice, as he
read in the class, so irritated him that at times he had to cover his
ears. Yet, did it chance that one of these offensive youths addressed a
civil word to him, on the instant his prejudice was disarmed, and his
emotions flowed forth in a response to which he would gladly have given
free expression. When he was invited to meet the relatives of Buckland
Warricombe, shyness prepossessed him against them; but the frank
kindness of his reception moved him, and on going away he was ashamed
to have replied so boorishly to attentions so amiably meant. The same
note of character sounded in what personal intercourse he had with the
Professors. Though his spirit of criticism was at times busy with these
gentlemen, he had for most of them a profound regard; and to be elected
by one or other for a word of commendation, a little private
assistance, a well-phrased inquiry as to his progress, always made his
heart beat high with gratitude. They were his first exemplars of
finished courtesy, of delicate culture; and he could never sufficiently
regret that no one of them was aware how thankfully he recognised his
debt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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