He believed - of course he believed - that Renaissance man had been best embodied in the eighteenth-century English gentleman, and it was this figure, standing in his library, a book in one hand, the other resting on a piece of classical sculpture, gazing out over a landscape harmoniously ordered by himself and under his guidance his tenants, in the consciousness that from time to time he would be called upon to play a part in the government of his country or its defence, and that in due course his eldest son would take his place and stand at his library window and deal with his tenants and show his visitors the improvements - it was this figure in Sur Randolph's mind accorded so ill with striking industrial workers, screaming suffragettes, Irish terrorists, scandals on the Stock Exchange, universal suffrage.
I. Colegate, The shooting party (1980), 108-9
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