Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works

by Charlotte Smith

  “My father, who had at this time an interval of ease, though the asperities of his temper were now seldom mitigated, sometimes released me from my attendance after dinner early enough to allow me to take my solitary walk before it was too dark.

  “The intelligence I had received on this particular evening from Mr. Hayward, that he had heard Mrs. Lessington would be at home in two or three days, had given some relief to my spirits, and, rather less oppressed than usual, I strolled almost mechanically up the avenues. It was a calm and still evening — so still, indeed, that every bird was heard whose slender feet perched on the leafless boughs, or flitted among them, and the bells of the sheep folding in the distant fields, and the remoter sound of a mill and mill stream, were brought in low murmurs to the ear.

  “The well-known objects around me were becoming indistinct, but I continued to walk slowly on — I even sat down for a few moments on the remains of a rustic tomb, and listened to the dull sighing of the wind as it sang round the buttresses, and waved the black boughs of the old yew tree. As I sat musing, I recollected the stories I had often heard of spectres being seen, and strange noises being heard round these receptacles of the dead. —— So little pleasure had I in looking forward to any thing that life could now afford me, so long had my thoughts been accustomed to consider death as the only end of all my miseries, that I felt no horror in the idea of seeing, or, if it were possible, of conversing with departed spirits. A sort of chilly and shuddering sensation, however, warned me to return before it was quite dark to the house. I arose from the mass of broken stone on which I had been sitting, and, advancing a few paces to return into the elm avenue, I fancied I saw a form glide before me among the trunks of the trees; but beneath the trees it was so dark, that I could not distinguish what it was. I continued, however, to gaze steadily on the place where I fancied this shape had appeared: the illusion was over — I saw nothing. Without any emotion of fear I proceeded, therefore, exactly to that spot, for it was my direct path to the house; I entered it, and, looking down the avenue, again fancied I saw an object moving at a distance about fifty yards beyond me; but almost immediately my attention was attracted by something white that lay just before me in the path. It seemed to be a book, a letter, or a folded handkerchief: I stooped and took it up — it was a sheet of paper, folded like a large letter, and tied with a bit of black ribbon. The circumstance rather surprised than alarmed me: I wondered what it could be, because I knew that the path was never frequented, or at least by persons who were likely to drop a paper. I put it into my pocket, and went hastily towards the house; when I got thither, I found my father had been inquiring for me, and I soon discovered that his temper was much disturbed......For more than two hours I was compelled to stay with him, and listen to reproaches and sarcasms uttered with the utmost ill-humour. Alas! I should have borne these more calmly, had I not felt that I deserved his indignation; but now they pierced my very soul. — At length, however, I was dismissed to my own room, where the vision, or fancied vision, of the evening, immediately recurring to me, I hastliy drew the paper from my pocket. Ah, Rosalie! imagine the sensations with which I read these lines ——

  ‘Vivo oh Dio! — ma più non ti vedrò — Prima di scriverti in questo modo, pensa quante pene, e quanti martiri bisogna aver sofferti, o più tosto che il tuo bel cor non fa rislessione sopra la nostra forte tiranna Abbia cura della tua prezioza salute; ora non si puo far ‘altro per il sventurato O.’

  ‘I exist — but we never meet again! — Think what I must have endured before I could write thus, or rather do not reflect on our inevitable miseries, but take care of your health — it is all you can now do for the unhappy O.’

  “The writing appeared to be Ormsby’s; but the lines were crooked, and the letters ill-formed, as if they had been traced by a weak and uncertain hand. As I gazed on the paper, that, and every object round me, swam before my eyes —— again I read the words, again attempted to recall what I had seen , or supposed I had seen, in the elm walk, and it seemed possible that it was Ormsby himself — for who else could have appeared there? — Yet, from whence did he come? — Where had he so long been confined, or how could he now escape? — If it were indeed himself, why did he not approach? — if it had been but to have spoken one word to me, with the assurance that he lived.....Ah! it could not be Ormsby! — Ormsby would never have seen me so near him, and have left me to tears, conjectures, and terrors; but if it were not himself, who could have written the billet I found there, in a language only a scholar, no other person in the house, except my father and the Abbé Hayward, knew a syllable? — Who was likely to write a hand resembling Ormsby’s? — Who, indeed, except my father, whose fingers being entirely disabled by the gout, had almost always employed Ormsby to write, knew his hand well enough to attempt an immitation of it? — Any conjecture that led to a supposition of its being a forgery, seemed even more probable than that it should be Ormsby himself — if any thing could be more improbable than that he was so greatly changed as to be so near me, and yet fly from me. This uncertainty, and my own conjectures, equally endless and uncertain, soon became so insupportable, that my reason once more threatened to forsake me, and I believe I should have lost it, had I not communicated to Helene what had happened, and explained to her the purport of the letter. As I did this, I observed her countenance change; she grew pale and trembled — then, in an hurried way, said in her own language, that I should recollect how often she had entreated me not to go into the elm walk — not to frequent the ruins about the chapel.

  “I eagerly inquired what those precautions had to do with what I was now talking of. Helene, trembling and weeping, at length told me, it was the opinion in the family, that Mr. Ormsby had been killed in attempting to resist the force that was used to remove him from the house; that he was buried in the vaults under the old church and ruined monastery; and that his spirit had been frequently seen since. This at once accounted for the apprehensions I had seen Helene so often express, and renewed all the terrors for the life of Ormsby, which the assurances of Mr. Hayward had a little appeased.....My heart sank within me, and again I seemed to be on the point of losing my misery and my existence together. The horrible idea thus conveyed, could not be a moment sustained without forcing the mind to an effort for its own relief. The moment I had recovered myself enough to reflect, my reason returned to dissipate this hideous fantasy. I might have believed that I had seen the shade of Ormsby lingering about the place of his interment — for to what weakness might not such sufferings as I underwent subject the understanding? but I knew that the spirit of the dead write no letters, and by whom but Ormsby could the lines I held have been written? Who, but either himself, or some agent he had employed, could have dropped the unsealed paper I had found? As soon as the tumult of my spirits were a little calmed by these reflections, I took courage to question Helene farther on the reports that had passed on this subject in the family.

  “She told me that ever since the sudden disappearance of my unhappy lover, strange stories had been whispered in the family at every opportunity, when the inferior domestics had an oportunity of escaping from the observation of the steward and housekeeper; that the most frightful reports had got abroad in the country; and that it was every where believed that Mr. Ormsby had fallen the victim of my father’s violence, and had been buried in the vaults: a report which was the more strongly credited, as the two men who disappeared with him had never returned. To this account, which was nearly the same in substance as that which she had at first related, she added many wild stories of noises heard, and sights seen, every one of which some person might be brought to attest. Nothing could be more dreadful than to reflect on these impressions among the neighbours, which, from the account given by Helene, seemed to be gaining ground, and might not improbably bring on some inquiry that might irritate to frenzy such a temper as my father’s, and overwhelm me with shame and disgrace.”

  The recollection of this part of her life, added to the fatigue of hav
ing spoken so long, was more than Mrs. Vyvian could now sustain; and Rosalie once more prevailed upon her to delay the rest of her strange and melancholy narrative till the next day, which was likely to be the last they should uninterruptedly pass together.

  CHAPTER 17

  THE narrative of Mrs. Vyvian thus went on ——

  “I had not yet recovered any degree of composure after the strange circumstance of finding the letter, which I continually read and studied, when some of the apprehensions, to which the intelligence I had got from Helene had given rise, were but too fatally realized. Such, indeed, were the various tortures in which I had been kept for some time, that it is astonishing, in the situation I was in, how I survived it. I might well, in the words of a favourite air which I should have sung, had not my heart been too heavy to find relief even in music ——

  Lasciami, o Ciel! peitoso,

  Si non ti vuoi placar,

  Lasciami respirar,

  Qualche momento!

  Rendasi col riposo,

  Almeno il mio pensiar,

  Abile a sostenar,

  Nuovo tormento. ——

  “I know not whether my mind dwelt most continually on the circumstance of the letter, or on the dread of the inquiry that might be made from the reports that had been spread in the country. In regard to this last, however, I endeavoured to persuade myself, that Helene, understanding English imperfectly, might misconcieve or exaggerate the expressions made use of by the rest of the servants; and while I attempted to mitigate part of my anxiety by this persuasion, I endeavoured to acquire courage to investigate the ground of the other; and for this purpose I took again and again the walk alone, for not even Helene’s sincere attachment to me would, I knew, have engaged her to have accompanied me without great reluctance. I thought too, that if by any strange means which I could not comprehend, nor hardly think possible, Ormsby yet lingered round Holmwood, he would be prevented by the presence of a third person from speaking to me. Life was now in my eyes of so little value, that to fear, unless it were fear of my father, I was insensible; and I believe that I should have met with indifferece, or rather torpor, the most terrific figures that imagination has ever dressed out to deter from crimes, or to enforce repentance. In my solitary and gloomy walks, however, I saw no more any object like that which had before alarmed me, nor did I hear any noise but such as I could easily account for. Every evening, without any regard to the weather, or to any thing but the precautions necessary in regard to my father, I took the same lonely walk, and for many evenings returned more astonished and depressed; for the longer this mystery remained unexplained, the more I became the prey of wild conjectures and tormenting solicitude.

  “But imagine, my Rosalie, if it be possible, imagine what I suffered, when, about five days after the circumstance of my finding the letter, I was alarmed by the sudden entrance of Helene into my room, who, breathless with some new terror, endeavoured to explain something, which it was long before I understood. At length I made out that a neighbouring gentleman in the commission was come, as the servants believed, to apprehend my father with peace officers, for that a regular complaint had been laid, it was not known by whom, of the sudden disappearance of Ormsby; and at length, the accusation of having murdered him had been so often repeated, and the clamours of the country, where certainly my father had many enemies, had become so loud, that the gentleman in question could act no otherwise than he did.

  “Endeavour to imagine what I endured while such a conference as this lasted, which it did for upwards of two hours; at the end of that time, the magistrates and his myrmidons departed together. Helene, who had watched them, came to tell me so: they had been out for some time with the steward and the old butler, and she was sure, she said, they had been up to the church; then they returned to the house, and, after a few moments of farther conversation with my father, quitted Holmwood apparently satisfied.

  “So confused, so mingled with horror and amazement, were all my ideas, that I recollect nothing of what passed in my mind, till I saw myself seated at table as usual to help my father, who sat opposite in his great chair; when I falteringly made the usual inquiry of the day, he did not answer me. I began, however, to carve as usual for him, but he fixed his eyes on my face, with a look so menacing and stern, that it was with the utmost difficulty I supported myself....I looked in vain for comfort in the faces around me; the old butler looked as if he pitied, but could not assist me; and the footman seemed to be under such terror, that having made two or three awkward blunders, he received a very severe reprimand, and was ordered to leave the room. Our silent and melancholy meal was soon over, for my father ate little, and I in vain attempt to swallow. The table cloth was removed, and I collected voice enough to ask him, as nearly as I could in my usual manner, whether I should read to him? — He answered loudly and angrily — No ——

  “Then, after a pause, a dreadful pause, during which I was afraid I should have sunk upon the floor, my father spoke thus ——

  ‘If I thought only for one moment, that the infamous reports, which have gone forth in the country, had originated in your folly, or rather wickedness, I should not hesitate what to do. As for the ungrateful villian, who might, perhaps, have had the insolence to attempt, as a return for my receiving him into my house, to steal my daughter and my property from it, you will never see him or hear of him more, nor can a matter of self-defence be again tortured into what the laws might here call a crime; but for yourself, know that it is my pleasure that you immediately prepare to receive, as your husband, a friend of mine, whose estate is such as you have no pretensions to expect, unless it be as my daughter — I will not suffer myself to suppose you have forfeited that title — on your part you will be pleased to make up your mind, and to divest yourself of a manner and behaviour which I will suffer no longer: I should have forborne to have given you my commands in regard to Mr. Vyvian, till his arrival, if I had not remarked your perserverance in a sort of conduct which I will not understand, lest the most terrible vengeance should follow......I have said enough — go to your own room, and learn to obey.’

  “This terrible sentence, which ended in so loud a tone as almost to stun me, deprived me for a moment of my recollection; as soon, however, as I was able, I arose from my chair, and with difficulty reached the door, my father’s eyes following me with a look so scrutinizing and angry, that I wished at that moment the earth might open beneath my feet and swallow me for ever. I found Helene near the door; for, alarmed by the transactions of the morning, and probably by the report of the footman, she waited there for me — without her aid I should never have got to my own room. I sat down in a state of torpid despair, which it is impossible to describe. Helene spoke to me in vain. The words I had heard, the dreadful command I had received, still vibrated in my ears, and the horrors of my fate were so forcibly presented to my mind, that the few distinct thoughts that passed through it pointed to suicide as the only way to escape from a destiny I was utterly unable to support. At length the tears and prayers of my faithful Helene restored to me some degree of recollection; she knelt at my feet, imploring me to have mercy on myself, if it were only to save my father from the crimes to which his furious revenge might excite him. She endeavoured to persuade me, that what he had said of Mr. Vyvian might be only a finesse; or, that if there was such a marrige in agitation, I might delay or escape it by the interposition of Mrs. Lessington, who was probably by this time, or would be in a few days, within four miles, and from whose prudence, as well as influence over the mind of my father, much might be hoped.

  “Though I knew great part of this reasoning was fallacious, I affected to be more calm, that Helene, who would not be dismissed, might talk to me no longer; but what a night did I pass! and when I obtained by opiate half an hour of unquiet slumber, with what anguish did I recollect, the moment I awoke, all that had passed the preceding day, with what dread look forward to what might befall me in that which was begun.

  “One consolatory circum
stance happened in the morning, which enabled me to go through it; I received a letter from Mrs. Lessington, to inform me she was arrived at home, and would see me the next day. This prospect of alleviating my sufferings gave me the power of going down to dinner with some degree of resolution — I even took courage to meet the piercing eye of my severe, my sometimes cruel father, and to repeat, when dinner was over, my question, whether I should read to him? — He again answered, No — though with less harshness than the evening before: he felt himself indisposed, and said he should endeavour to sleep.

  “I no sooner had left him, than in despite of the earnest entreaty of Helene, who incessantly besought me to have more regard to my own safety, I went into the avenue, though it was nearly dark; an early moon, however, lit up, with faint but cheering radiance, the winter sky, and her rays glancing through the leafless trees, and falling on the gray trunks of a few arbeals and birches that were scattered among the more glooomy elms towards the middle of the line, I could have indulged my shuddering fancy in supposing them, indistinctly seen as they were, to be spectres beckoning me to the only sure asylum of all sorrows in the cemetary beyond.

  “Why should those fear who have nothing to hope? — Of beings of this world I had no dread, for I was so miserable that religion only arrested my feeble hands, or they would have been lifted against a life which might have been called a living death; supernatural beings I had never learned to fear — if such were ever permitted to appear. Thus arguing and reflecting, I had reached the top of the avenue, and stood a moment looking at the half-ruined church, and meditating on the horrible idea taken up by the people of the country, that Ormsby was destroyed and buried in this place.......What an opinion must they have of the violence and ferocity of my father’s spirit! What an idea of the provocation he had received, before they could have supposed him likely to be driven to extremities so dangerous and dreadful! — It was impossible but what the cause for such vengeance must be suspected. The secret of our attachment, my disgrace and shame, then were known, or, what was nearly the same thing, guessed at, though I no longer supposed it possible that my father could for a moment harbour a thought so contrary to humanity as the destruction of the unhappy Ormsby; yet there were a thousand daggers for my heart in the reflection that such a history was the conversation of the surrounding country, and that the real or imaginary crimes of our family were discussed by the ignorant, and enjoyed by the malicious.