Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works

by Charlotte Smith

  The letter then which Orlando so dreaded, was written, after great precautions in choosing the words. It requested her approbation of his eldest daughter’s marriage with Mr Fitz-Owen, the only son of an eminent merchant at Corke; and said, that as Orlando was now of an age in which it became necessary to think of his future establishment, thoughts were entertained of putting him into business with his uncle; but that nothing would be concluded upon without the entire approbation of Mrs Rayland, to whose notice and protection he was so much obliged.

  A servant was sent with this letter about noon. It was received and read in due form, and a verbal message returned, that Mrs Rayland would at her leisure write an answer, and send one of her own servants with it.

  On this occasion Mrs Rayland talked to Lennard – not to consult her, for it was an affair in which she thought herself alone competent to judge – but to give vent to her spleen, and to express her dislike of all people in trade, and particularly of poor Mrs Somerive. ‘Those vulgar mundungus folks,’ said she, ‘will not suffer the family to better by their chance connection with a gentleman – let them marry their girls, if they will, to dealers and chapmen; I shall never interfere: they are all like the mother, and may make good tradesmen’s wives; though, if Mr Somerive had not, like his foolish father, had a low taste, his daughters might have married men of family, who would have been proud to be allied, though distantly, to ours. As it is, they must carry their cherry cheeks to a lower market – I shall never oppose it. But for Orlando, there was something of an air of good blood about him, that almost made me doubt at times his birth by his mother’s side. However, if he gets these buying and selling notions in his head, and chooses his mother’s low origin should continue to be remembered, I have done. I suppose he’s got among them – a fine flashy set of tradesfolks – and enters into their amusements and views; and if so, I shall never disturb him, let him go his own way; only I shall not choose to have a shopkeeper an inmate at Rayland Hall.’

  Monimia, who was called down a moment before to assist in cutting out linen, was present during this harangue, for they considered her a mere cypher. She found herself terribly affected by the opening of it; but when it proceeded to speak of Orlando, she measured four times instead of two, notched a piece of Irish cloth in the wrong place, and was beginning to use her scissars the wrong way, when a severe look from Mrs Lennard, who snatched it out of her hand, with ‘What are you about, mope?’ restored her to her recollection. She begged pardon; and another look from her aunt bade her beware that she did not offend a second time – when Mrs Rayland thus went on:

  ‘After a taste for such company, this place must be very dull: drinking and jollity, I suppose, are soon learned. And so Mr Orlando has not been here these two days! Mighty well; he is his own master – Lennard! he has not called this morning, has he?’

  Monimia, by a glance of her eye, saw him at that moment pensively and dejectedly crossing the park on foot. She dared not however say so; but finding herself quite unequal to the misery of being present at an interview, in which she foresaw that, in consequence of this fatal letter, he would be forbidden the house, and seeing that her aunt determined she should stay, she hung her foot as if by accident in the long roll of linen that was on the ground, and, in pretending to disengage it, fell with some violence against an old heavy gilt leather screen that went across one side of the large room, and ran the sharp-pointed scissars, with which she was cutting the linen, into her arm a little above the wrist.

  Her aunt, however, did not perceive it, till the blood streamed from her arm, round which, without any complaint, she wrapped her handkerchief. The paleness and faintness, which she could not disguise, were accounted for when Mrs Lennard saw the handkerchief bathed in blood. Monimia, who was actually sinking to the earth, though not from the wound, was then dismissed, while Betty was called to take care of the careless girl, and ordered to put some friar’s balsam to the cut; and she just tottered out of one door as Orlando, after sending up for permission, entered at the other. This was fortunate; for, had he beheld her in such a situation, and had she at that moment seen him, their intelligence could hardly have been concealed. The looks Mrs Lennard had cast on her, when she first appeared confused, had impressed her with terror, and, she fancied, menaced all that was dreadful. With difficulty, and leaning on Betty’s arm, she reached her turret; where, under pretence that the accident of having hurt her arm had turned her sick, she begged a glass of water, and lay down, being otherwise unable to conceal from Betty the agitation of her spirits, and the terror she was in for the reception of Orlando.

  Mrs Rayland, instead of the kindness she was used to shew him, now received him with the most cold and repulsive formality. ‘Your servant, Mr Orlando – Please to take a chair,’ was all she said; and in the manner of her saying it, Orlando saw abundant cause to fear that his father’s letter had undone him with Mrs Rayland.

  ‘I find we are to lose you, Sir! – you are going to turn merchant, or shop-keeper!’

  ‘Not, Madam,’ replied Orlando, ‘if you think my doing so a wrong measure.’

  ‘Oh! Sir, I never pretend to dictate. Every one knows their own affairs best; and by all means you ought to follow your father’s orders and your own inclinations.’

  ‘Alas, dear Madam!’ replied Orlando, with a sort of spirited humility that well became him, ‘my father’s orders would, I believe, in this case be given with reluctance; and though I should obey them, it would be with reluctance indeed!’

  ‘What, Sir! (relaxing a little of her vinegar aspect) is it not your own desire then that you should be put apprentice or journeyman to this person, this brother of your mother’s? I thought, for my part, that finding perhaps, like your brother and other gay young men, that the country was very dull, you chose probably to figure in London; for it is trades-people now that can best afford to shew away, as witness the new comers at poor Lord Carloraine’s fine place – those what d’ye callums – they were trades-people – yet nobody can attempt to live as they do. If such things can be done by trade, no wonder young men are eager to begin. The Hall, Mr Orlando, must be a dull place, when once you have got these fine doings in your head.’

  ‘Madam,’ said Orlando trembling, for he now found that his fate depended on the event of this dialogue – ‘Madam, I have always avoided the meanness of adulation, nor will I use it now; you ought to despise me if I did; and I know you have generosity enough to have bestowed all the favours I have received from you, without expecting me to sacrifice my integrity or my freedom.’

  Mrs Rayland did not very clearly comprehend this sentence. It was partly complimentary, and therefore to her taste; but the words sacrifice and freedom, at the end, on which a strong emphasis was laid, sounded a little like rebellion. She therefore screwed up her visage to its former asperity, and answered, ‘No, indeed, Sir, I expect no sacrifices from any body; and as to freedom – every body is free to do as they like best in their own affairs, as I told you before.’

  ‘You will not then, Madam, suspect me of meanness unworthy equally of my respect for you and what I owe myself, if I declare to you, that I have no wish to enter into trade, for which I am very certain I have no talents; and that, though I must obey my father if he insists upon it, yet I shall be very unhappy, and had rather, infinitely rather, if you will have the goodness to permit it, remain at home, with the advantage of being allowed sometimes, in paying my respects to you, to have, as I have had for some months, the use of your library; where I hope I am qualifying myself for one of the liberal professions against the time when my father can find an opportunity to place me in one: and in the mean time I call God to witness, that to associate with such people as Mr Stockton, or to emulate his splendour, is so far from being my wish, that to be compelled to do it would be the greatest punishment that could be inflicted upon me.’

  ‘I believe, cousin Orlando, I believe – and I am pleased to see it – you have some understanding; and indeed, young man, I think too wel
l of you to wish to see you a tradesman.’ ‘Cousin Orlando,’ were, he well knew, words that always portended good humour, and were never used but on days of high favour. They now sounded most soothingly in the ears of Orlando. – ‘Will you then, Madam, be so very good, when you take the trouble to answer my father’s letter, to express your sentiments on this matter? and I am sure he will then press it no farther.’

  ‘I shall tell him, child,’ replied she, ‘that I think you may do better; and for the present, as you are not idle, that you may go on with your studies at the Hall.’

  Orlando, in raptures at having carried his point, thanked his venerable cousin a thousand times. He never thought her so reasonable before: she never fancied him so much like her grandfather Sir Orlando; and so many civilities passed between them, that, before they parted, she gave him a bank-note of ten pounds, and he was admitted to the honour of kissing her hands. In this excellent humour, which Mrs Lennard did not discourage, he left her, went into the study to secure his admittance in the evening, and to recover himself of the extreme perturbation he was in, before he returned to the party with whom he was to dine at home.

  Mrs Rayland then, having called for her writing materials, which seldom saw the sun, and being placed in form at her rose-wood writing-box, lined with green velvet and mounted in silver, produced, at the end of four hours, the following letter, piquing herself on spelling as her father spelt, and disdaining those idle novelties by which a few superfluous letters are saved.

  Raylande Hall, 12th day of

  September, A.D. 1776.

  ‘Sir, my kinsman,

  ‘I HAVE received youre letter, and am oblidged by youre taking the troubbel to informe me of youre famely affaires, to the wich I am a sinceer goode wisher. In respecte to youre daughter Philippa must begge to be excused from givving my oppinion, not haveing the pleasure to knowe the gentleman, and being from my retired life no judge of the personnes charractere, who are remote and in bisness, as I understande this personne is; wherefore I can onelye there upon saie, that doubtlesse you, being as you are a goode and carefulle father, will take due care and precaution that youre daughtere shall not, by her marriage, be exposed to the mischances of becoming reduced by bankruptcies and other accidents, whereby peopel in trade are oft times grate sufferers. – But your care herein for your daughter’s securitye is not to be questionned. Furthermore, respecting youre youngest sonne, Mr Orlando, he is very certainelye at youre disposal also, and you are, it may be, the most competent judge of that which is fitting to bee done for his future goode and advantage. I wish him very well; he seeming to me to be a sober, promising, and well-conditioned youthe; and such a one as, were I his neerer relation, I shoulde thinke a pitye to put to a trade. I am at present alwaies glad of his companie at the Hall, and willinge to give anye littel encourragement to his desier of learninge in the liberal sciences fitting for a gentleman, the wich his entring on a shoppe or warehouse would distroye and put an ende to. However that maye bee, I saie again, that you, being his father, are to be sure the propperest personne to determine for him, and he is dutiefullie inclined, and willinge to obey you. Yet by the discourse I have had with him there-uponne, it doth not appeare that the youthe himself is inclined to become a dealer, as you purpose.

  ‘Heartilie recommending you in my prayers to the Disposer of all goode giftes, and hoping he will directe you in all thinges for the well-doing of your famely, I remaine,

  Sir, my kinsman,

  youre well-wisher

  and humbel servant,

  GRACE RAYLANDE.’

  This letter was received at Wolverton while Mr Somerive, his two sons, Mr Woodford and Mr Fitz-Owen were yet over their wine. The anxious father opened it with a palpitating heart, nor were the younger part of the audience less solicitous to know its contents. As there were none of them towards whom secrecy was absolutely necessary, though it might have been more prudent, Mr Somerive, at the request of his eldest son, put it across the table to him – who, with that thoughtless indiscretion which marked his character, read it aloud, with comments serving to turn into ridicule the writer, and the sentiments it contained. The description of Orlando – under that of a sober, promising, and well-conditioned youth – was read with a burst of laughter; while the slighting way in which trade was mentioned, and the contempt thrown on shopkeepers, under which Mrs Rayland seemed to describe wine-merchants and every person in business, raised the indignation of Mr Woodford and Mr Fitz-Owen, who both agreed in declaring that the opinion of such an old crone was not worth consulting; that she was in a perfect dotage, as well from pride as old age; and that it was a condescension in Mr Somerive to have consulted her at all. Orlando, however, saw all this with concern mingled with joy. He was pretty sure, from the countenance of his father, which he solicitously watched as he perused the letter, that the part of it which related to himself was kinder than he expected; that it had turned the fluctuating and undecided opinion of his father in his favour; and that he should not now, by being sent with his uncle Woodford, be condemned to the double misery of quitting Monimia, and associating with persons whose manners and ideas were so different from his own, that it was a perpetual punishment to him to be in their company. The displeasure of his brother at the partiality Mrs Rayland expressed for him was easily accounted for; and Orlando had long accustomed himself to bear his rough jokes, and even his sarcastic reproaches, which he vented whenever they met, without much uneasiness.

  As soon as Mr Somerive could disengage himself from his company, he withdrew to consult with his wife on the purport of Mrs Rayland’s letter, and made a sign to Orlando to follow him in a few moments. – He did so, and found his father and mother in consultation in the garden. The mother, whose heart was half broken at the idea of parting with her daughter so suddenly, was weeping with joy to find that Orlando would not yet leave her: flattering herself, from the purport of the letter, that the affluent fortune of Mrs Rayland would at last centre with Orlando, and putting the most favourable construction on every expression that related to him, she agreed with Mr Somerive, that nothing would be so imprudent as to think of removing him; and it was even determined, that Mr Somerive should that evening write to her again, thanking her for her advice about his daughter, and leaving the future fate of Orlando wholly at her disposal; that Orlando should himself carry the letter, and ask leave to take his former apartments for some time – only returning once again to Wolverton to take leave of his eldest sister, whom he was to see no more before she went to Ireland – and of his second sister Isabella, who was to accompany her to London, and to pass some time with her uncle and aunt Woodford.

  Never did Orlando obey his father with more alacrity than on this occasion; and on his return Mrs Rayland never received him more kindly. He was now again invited to partake of her supper: without putting much force on himself, he shewed her exactly that sort of attention which was the most agreeable to her, and appeared grateful without being servile. At length he was dismissed; and, when the house was perfectly quiet, he flew to Monimia, who accompanied him to the study; and when he related how much more happily the events of the day had passed than he had at its beginning expected, she shed tears of delight; and the sweet sensations of hope, which they now dared to indulge more than there ever yet appeared reason to indulge them, made this one of the happiest evenings they had ever passed together.

  The following day Orlando returned to the house of his father, and found that, in regard to some parts of his family, a new arrangement had taken place. Mrs Somerive, as the hour approached for her two eldest daughters to leave her – one to be separated from her perhaps for years, and to enter into another family – found herself so much affected, that her husband, who was very indulgent to her, agreed she should accompany the party to London, be present at the wedding of her daughter, and return in a fortnight, bringing Isabella back with her, if the idea of leaving her was at the end of that time uneasy to her. This being settled, Orlando took leave of his mother a
nd sisters that evening: and the latter, but particularly the eldest, lamenting their separation with many tears: for Orlando, who was tenderly attentive to his sisters, was fondly beloved by them all; though to Selina, the third, who was a year younger than himself, he was more attached than to the rest.

  Pensively he returned back to the Hall after this melancholy parting: it was the first time the family had been thus separated; for, except the unhappy eccentricities of his eldest son, the union of Mr Somerive’s children, and the promise they all gave of excellence, had hitherto made him amends for much of the difficulty he found in supporting them. But Orlando saw that the hour was now come when his father felt equal pain for the fate of those who were about to be what is called established in the world, and for those whom he knew not how to establish, or, in the case of his death, to provide for. All that filial tenderness and good sense could suggest to his ingenuous and generous mind, he said to console his father; but with infinite concern he observed, that the wounds inflicted by the profligacy of his brother festered more deeply every day, and that all he could do had too little power to assuage the constant pain arising from this source; from which, though his father did not complain, Orlando thought it but too evident that his health was gradually impaired.

  Against the uneasiness these observations gave him he found the only respite in his books, to which he assiduously applied himself and in his evening conferences with Monimia, who every hour became more dear to him, and whose personal charms seemed every hour heightened by the progress of her understanding. As the nights became longer, and more obscure, they met earlier, and with less apprehension of detection; and as Mrs Lennard seemed to become more and more remiss in her office of duenna, the opportunities they had of seeing each other in the course of the day (though they rarely ventured to hold any conversation) sweetened the tedious hours between their meetings.