He Received Me With The Condescension Of A Patron Rather Than The
Kindness Of A Parent.
He listened patiently, but coldly, to my tale of
monastic grievances and disgusts, and promised to think what else could
be done for me.
This coldness blighted and drove back all the frank
affection of my nature that was ready to spring forth at the least
warmth of parental kindness. All my early feelings towards my father
revived; I again looked up to him as the stately magnificent being that
had daunted my childish imagination, and felt as if I had no
pretensions to his sympathies. My brother engrossed all his care and
love; he inherited his nature, and carried himself towards me with a
protecting rather than a fraternal air. It wounded my pride, which was
great. I could brook condescension from my father, for I looked up to
him with awe as a superior being, but I could not brook patronage from
a brother, who, I felt, was intellectually my inferior. The servants
perceived that I was an unwelcome intruder in the paternal mansion,
and, menial-like, they treated me with neglect. Thus baffled at every
point; my affections outraged wherever they would attach themselves, I
became sullen, silent, and despondent. My feelings driven back upon
myself, entered and preyed upon my own heart. I remained for some days
an unwelcome guest rather than a restored son in my father's house. I
was doomed never to be properly known there. I was made, by wrong
treatment, strange even to myself; and they judged of me from my
strangeness.
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