This man, this Lovelace, gives me great uneasiness. He is extremely bold
and rash. He was this afternoon at our church--in hopes to see me, I
suppose: and yet, if he had such hopes, his usual intelligence must have
failed him.
Shorey was at church; and a principal part of her observation was upon
his haughty and proud behaviour when he turned round in the pew where he
sat to our family-pew. My father and both my uncles were there; so were
my mother and sister. My brother happily was not.--They all came home in
disorder. Nor did the congregation mind any body but him; it being his
first appearance there since the unhappy rencounter.
What did the man come for, if he intended to look challenge and
defiance, as Shorey says he did, and as others, it seems, thought he
did, as well as she? Did he come for my sake; and, by behaving in such
a manner to those present of my family, imagine he was doing me either
service or pleasure?--He knows how they hate him: nor will he take
pains, would pains do, to obviate their hatred.
You and I, my dear, have often taken notice of his pride; and you have
rallied him upon it; and instead of exculpating himself, he has owned
it: and by owning it he has thought he has done enough.
For my own part, I thought pride in his case an improper subject for
raillery.--People of birth and fortune to be proud, is so needless,
so mean a vice!--If they deserve respect, they will have it, without
requiring it. In other words, for persons to endeavour to gain respect
by a haughty behaviour, is to give a proof that they mistrust their own
merit: To make confession that they know that their actions will not
attract it.--Distinction or quality may be prided in by those to whom
distinction or quality is a new thing. And then the reflection and
contempt which such bring upon themselves by it, is a counter-balance.
Such added advantages, too, as this man has in his person and mien:
learned also, as they say he is: Such a man to be haughty, to be
imperious!--The lines of his own face at the same time condemning
him--how wholly inexcusable!--Proud of what? Not of doing well: the only
justifiable pride.--Proud of exterior advantages!--Must not one be led
by such a stop-short pride, as I may call it, in him or her who has it,
to mistrust the interior? Some people may indeed be afraid, that if
they did not assume, they would be trampled upon. A very narrow fear,
however, since they trample upon themselves, who can fear this. But this
man must be secure that humility would be an ornament to him.
He has talents indeed: but those talents and his personal advantages
have been snares to him. It is plain they have. And this shews, that,
weighed in an equal balance, he would be found greatly wanting.
Had my friends confided as they did at first, in that discretion which
they do not accuse me of being defective in, I dare say I should have
found him out: and then should have been as resolute to dismiss him, as
I was to dismiss others, and as I am never to have Mr. Solmes. O that
they did but know my heart!--It shall sooner burst, than voluntarily,
uncompelled, undriven, dictate a measure that shall cast a slur either
upon them, or upon my sex.
Excuse me, my dear friend, for these grave soliloquies, as I may call
them. How have I run from reflection to reflection!--But the occasion is
recent--They are all in commotion below upon it.
Shorey says, that Mr. Lovelace watched my mother's eye, and bowed to
her: and she returned the compliment. He always admired my mother. She
would not, I believe, have hated him, had she not been bid to hate him:
and had it not been for the rencounter between him and her only son.
Dr. Lewen was at church; and observing, as every one else did, the
disorder into which Mr. Lovelace's appearance* had put all our family,
was so good as to engage him in conversation, when the service was over,
till they were all gone to their coaches.
* See Letter XXXI, for Mr. Lovelace's account of his
behaviour and intentions in his appearance at church.
My uncles had my letters in the morning. They, as well as my father,
are more and more incensed against me, it seems. Their answers, if
they vouchsafe to answer me, will demonstrate, I doubt not, the
unseasonableness of this rash man's presence at our church.
They are angry also, as I understand, with my mother, for returning
his compliment. What an enemy is hatred, even to the common forms of
civility! which, however, more distinguish the payer of a compliment,
than the receiver. But they all see, they say, that there is but one way
to put an end to his insults. So I shall suffer: And in what will the
rash man have benefited himself, or mended his prospects?
I am extremely apprehensive that this worse than ghost-like appearance
of his, bodes some still bolder step. If he come hither (and very
desirous he is of my leave to come) I am afraid there will be murder. To
avoid that, if there were no other way, I would most willingly be buried
alive.
They are all in consultation--upon my letters, I suppose--so they were
in the morning; which occasioned my uncles to be at our church. I will
send you the copies of those letters, as I promised in my last, when
I see whether I can give you their answers with them. This letter is
all--I cannot tell what--the effect of apprehension and displeasure
at the man who has occasioned my apprehensions. Six lines would have
contained all that is in it to the purpose of my story.