Great Britain -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Ireland -- Fiction; Love stories; Social classes -- Fiction
In the mean time Captain Donnellan and the two strangers sat almost
in silence in the dining-room. The Captain, though he did not perhaps
know much of things noticeable in this world, did know something of
a gentleman, and was therefore not led away, as poor Thady had been,
by Aby's hat and rings. He had stared Aby full in the face when he
entered the room, and having explained that he was not the master
of the house, had not vouchsafed another word. But then he had also
seen that Mr. Prendergast was of a different class, and had said a
civil word or two, asking him to come near the fire, and suggesting
that Owen would be down in less than five minutes. "But the old cock
wouldn't crow," as he afterwards remarked to his friend, and so they
all three sat in silence, the Captain being very busy about his
knees, as hunting gentlemen sometimes are when they come down to
bachelor breakfasts.
And then at last Owen Fitzgerald entered the room. He has been
described as a handsome man, but in no dress did he look so well as
when equipped for a day's sport. And what dress that Englishmen ever
wear is so handsome as this? Or we may perhaps say what other dress
does English custom allow them that is in any respect not the reverse
of handsome. We have come to be so dingy,--in our taste I was going
to say, but it is rather in our want of taste,--so careless of any of
the laws of beauty in the folds and lines and hues of our dress, so
opposed to grace in the arrangement of our persons, that it is not
permitted to the ordinary English gentleman to be anything else but
ugly. Chimney-pot hats, swallow-tailed coats, and pantaloons that fit
nothing, came creeping in upon us, one after the other, while the
Georges reigned--creeping in upon us with such pictures as we painted
under the reign of West, and such houses as we built under the reign
of Nash, till the English eye required to rest on that which was
constrained, dull, and graceless. For the last two score of years
it has come to this, that if a man go in handsome attire he is a
popinjay and a vain fool; and as it is better to be ugly than to be
accounted vain I would not counsel a young friend to leave the beaten
track on the strength of his own judgment. But not the less is the
beaten track to be condemned, and abandoned, and abolished, if such
be in any way possible. Beauty is good in all things; and I cannot
but think that those old Venetian senators, and Florentine men of
Council, owed somewhat of their country's pride and power to the
manner in which they clipped their beards and wore their flowing
garments.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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