Blue-Stocking Hall, (Vol. 2 of 3)Scargill, William Pitt
General
Blue-Stocking Hall, (Vol. 2 of 3)
Scargill, William Pitt
Epistolary fiction; Women -- Conduct of life -- Fiction; Women -- Education -- Fiction
than himself, that he willingly relinquished every title to controul,
and gladly confessed that he was _hen-pecked_ and _chicken-pecked_,
and _pecked_ in every possible manner of _pecking_; adding, "I live,
in fact, totally under petticoat government, and find nothing suits
with my temper so pleasantly as to be led in all things by my wife."
Mr. Fitzallan's appearance is very handsome, and his manners are
perfectly polished, which gave the most finished, at the same time
the most playful tone to every thing he said, while Ridley looked as
serious in describing a game of German tactics to Fanny, as if he had
been delivering evidence before a Committee of the House of Commons on
the Corn Laws. Young Fitzallan gave a scowling glance at his father
every time that he spoke; and whenever he could slide in a word, it
was sure to be a _cut_ at the difference between theory and practice.
Young Ridley, on the contrary, seemed to hang with delight on every
word that his father uttered, though with the most perfect freedom and
considerable intelligence, he sometimes ventured a flight in praise
of some of our Opposition men, who met with no quarter from the old
man. When the party broke up in the evening Mrs. Fitzroy burst into
a glowing eulogium on Mr. Fitzallan, "who," she said, "was the most
noble creature she had met for ages. That man has such heart, he is
overflowing with love for his species, and his views upon every subject
are so generous, so exalted, so comprehensive"--
"That they comprehend _nothing_, madam," interrupted Mr. Bentley in a
high state of irritation. "I repeat, madam," continued he, "that you
were never so mistaken in the course of your life. This shewy man,
who has attracted so much of your admiration, possesses property to a
large amount in several counties in Ireland. The agent whom he employs
in this part of the country, I know to be one of the most grinding,
heartless, fellows in creation. Mr. Fitzallan is one of the worst
landlords in Ireland, and never does an act that is not dictated by
the grossest self-interest. In private life he is a compound of pride
and laxity. The former governs his conduct with wife and children, to
all of whom he behaves in the most imperious yet capricious manner;
and, _though_ he has too little controul over _himself_ to enforce
subordination in _others_, he is selfish and tyrannical with all whose
actions he can dare to command. You might have observed how small
a degree of credit he has with his son, who dotes on his mother,
and resents, as far as he can, his father's neglect of her. Madam,
Mr. Fitzallan fastened on your ear because you were a stranger, and
he found that he could play off an artillery of _words_ upon your
ignorance of his true character.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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