Complete Poetical Works of Charlotte Smith

by Charlotte Smith

  “Are nobly undergone.

  Angelina saw him depart with tender yet trusting solicitude — her mother with confidence and pleasure. — When Angelina had bade him adieu, she looked from the dining-room window will he turned into the next street, and then retired to her own room to indulge for a few moments in those tears which she could no longer repress, though she was conscious that is was weakness to yield to them. — Soon, however, recovering her composure, by reflecting on the prospect of that humble happiness they hoped to enjoy together, she was able to meet her mother at dinner with a calm and even a chearful countenance.

  D’Alonville in the mean time found himself in Portland-place, hardly knowing how he got thither. — The carriages were waiting in which the young men were to travel; those that conveyed Lord and lady Aberdore and Miss Milsington; the ladies Vipont, their governesses and women, were not ordered till a later hour, but Lord Aurevalle and his brothers, with their tutors and domestics, were to begin their journey immediately.

  The reverend Lemuel Paunceford, for the first time saw the chevalier D’Alonville, who was chosen to be his coadjutor in the important task of educating future legislators of the British empire. The reverend Lemuel Paunceford made him as good a bow as he could make, and introduced his pupils thus:— “Monsieur Dallunville, this is my Lord Aurevalle; this is the honourable Henry Augustus Vipont, his lordship’s next brother, and this the honourable Frederic Charles Vipont, his lordship’s younger brother.” D’Alonville bowed to each of the boys, and Mr. Paunceford pointing to a chair, he sat down.

  The curiosity of D’Alonville, which had at first been excited by the odd figure of this young divine, was soon satisfied, for he strutted for a moment about the room as if to exhibit himself to the best advantage. He was a punch figure of five feet, whose tight black clothes, knowing boots and splendid leathern breeches, served only to make his redundancy of flesh more remarkable. He wore his hair high behind his round head, so that a collop of fat that was thrust from his short poll by the pressure of his neckcloth; seemed to support the spruce row of yellow curls that marked him, (though somewhat to his displeasure) as being in orders. But however he might internally murmur at the harsh decrees of custom which deprived his person of many advantages of which laymen are allowed to avail themselves, his spirit was well enough calculated for his situation; for with an infinite deal of pride, he had such a pliant disposition where any thing was to be got, that there was no doubt of his dying a dignitary of the church.

  Till that happy epocha arrived, he was not unwilling to shew the way that was to lead to it, with every flower he could gather, without hazarding his character. He loved a good dinner extremely, and found Lord Aberdore’s table very suitable to his taste; he loved his ease, and found that it was more in appearance than in reality that he should have any thing to do; he was very fond of governing, and therefore well content to find that the management of every thing at Rock-March was to be left to him; and as he did not dislike women, he imagined that with the two governesses, who were young and genteel women, and the three or four smart damsels who waited on them and the young ladies, he should have something like a little seraglio around him, for the indulgence of sentimental affections at least. It was not therefore without some sensation, bordering on mortification and disappointment, that he beheld the very handsome figure of D’Alonville, who, besides the advantage of being somewhat above six feet high, and of a light and graceful figure, had a face at once manly and expressive, fine eyes, and the most beautiful teeth that could be seen. It was to make comparisons between himself and this unwelcome coadjutor that Mr. Paunceford now paraded from the great pier glass to the door, from the door to the pier glass; and it was with extreme reluctance that he was compelled, after several turns, to acknowledge, that the Frenchman was really tolerably well-looking considering; for that was all he could bring himself to avow.

  When the chevalier D’Alonville had been talked of, Mr. Paunceford had imagined to himself that he resembled one of those figure that are usually exhibited in print shops in ridicule of his country, and that he should only find him a contrast to his own agreeable person: but his eyes refused to accede to this caricature of his imagination, and he was now heartily sorry that his residence with his pupils at the villa near Hampton-court, at the time Lord Aberdore had engaged with D’Alonville prevented his trying to put an end to the negociation. — Now it was too late, and he could only form vague plans of prejudicing his pupils against him, and finding some means of getting him dismissed as speedily as possible. — D’Alonville having smiled internally at the pert round figure and consequential manner of the little Abbé, thought no more about him, but paying only as much attention to the young Viponts, as the common forms of politeness required, in speaking to each of them in French, of which they all understood something, and which the eldest spoke tolerably well, he turned all his thoughts to Angelina, and in reflecting how soon he should be many miles from her, he sunk into a melancholy reverie, from which he was suddenly roused by Miss Milsington, who bouncing into the room, exclaimed— “Oh, my dear boys! I thought I should have been too late to have seen you before you set off — you servant, sir,” coldly, to Mr. Paunceford; then turning to D’Alonville, who had risen on her entering the room she exclaimed, “Oh, Chevalier! never creature was so delighted as I am, to find you are not gone without my seeing you. My dear sir, what a horrible journey we shall have — and such and ungallant, uncomfortable plan as this, of travelling separate! — Well, my dear friend, but we shall meet at last; and I hope the gods will give us good weather, that we may ramble about at Rock-March. — Do you know that if you love romantic views you will be quite wild! — for my part I adore them! — my delight is to gaze on woods, and rocks, and mountains, and torrents, when I am in the country.” D’Alonville, though usually prompt enough at reply, was at a loss what to say to this sentence, which, though meaning little, was so energetically delivered; but he was relieved from his embarrassment by a footman who can in to inform Mr. Paunceford then sneeringly addressed Miss Milsington— “Madam, if your business with Monseer is at an end, I believe there is nothing more to detain us. — My Lord Aurevalle, your Lordship goes with me in the first chaise — Mr. Vipont and Mr. Frederic Vipont, Monseer Dallumvil is to attend you in the second.” The Reverend Lemuel Paunceford then marched down stairs with the young lord, who did not seem particularly delighted with the arrangement; D’Alonville respectfully kissing Miss Milsington’s hand, which she generously rendered to him, followed the two younger boys, and the chaises drove away.

  How dull Aurevalle will be,” cried the eldest, “shut up with our little Parson Punch.”

  “I hope,” answered his brother, “Bob Jerom will preach to him all the way. I like to have Aurevalle teized with that quiz — because he often sets him upon me.”

  D’Alonville, though by no means comprehending the terms Parson Punch, Bob Jerom, and Quiz, yet perfectly understood that the lads were ridiculing their tutor, for whom he had before guessed by their looks they had no great reverence; but as he though it too soon for him to commence monitor, he endeavoured to turn the discourse on the villages they were passing, and to direct their observations to the objects they passed; he found the eldest greatly skilled in horseflesh, giving his opinion of “the cattle” that went by — knew to what men of fashion they belonged, and told D’Alonville the names and ages of Lord Aberdore’s horses at each of his residences; named the brood mares, and had a very tolerable notion of a pedigree: these were accomplishments which D’Alonville did not suspect his pupil of having acquired under the learned clerk of Oxenford, Mr. Lemuel Paunceford; but he did not know that he was himself a sportsman, the best shot of his college, and celebrated fro taking care himself to have his game well dressed; he was besides, though rather overweight, a keen sportsman, and followed hare hounds with particular guste; inclinations which had prevented his checking in his pupils the too lively interest they seemed disposed to take in the affairs of the sta
ble.

  As for some reason or other Lord Aberdore did not intend to pass the night at the same inn, they saw nothing of him on the road. — Paunceford seemed sullen and out of humour at supper; and drily saying to D’Alonville that the misfortune of his own not knowing the French language would make conversation unpleasant to him, he took a book out of his pocket, and D’Alonville was left to converse with the boys till they separated for the night.

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  Oh! for a lodge in some vast wilderness,

  Some boundless continuity of shade,

  Where rumours of oppression and deceit

  Of unsuccessful or successful war

  Should never reach me more!

  COWPER.

  THOUGH the travellers proceeded with the utmost expedition, it was very late on the evening of the second day before they reached Rock-March; situated almost on the junction of the three counties of Merioneth, Cardigan, and Montgomery, and about twelve miles from that part of the Irish channel which is called Cardigan Bay.

  D’Alonville could only observe that night that the house was very large, and furnished with ancient magnificence; but be not alarmed, gentle-reader, though seven castles have been talked of in a preface, thou shalt not be compelled to enter on another at this late period of the story; and of this great house it shall only be said, that it was like other great houses, calculated rather for splendour than comfort, rather to create admiration in the stranger than to confer happiness on the owner; its outward walls shall not be roughened by former sieges, or its entrance guarded with portcullis; the wall flower and the fern shall not nod over the broken battlements, nor shall the eastern tower, or any tower, be enwreathed with the mantling ivy.

  On the contrary, the entrance-hall is stucoed; in it are four niches, in which are fine antique statues, purchased at Rome by the ancestor of the present Lord Aberdore, and in the vestibule beyond it, which, as well as the hall, is paved with marble, is a very large billiard table; the suite of rooms into which these entrances open — shall they be described? — No — They shall be left to the imagination of readers who can hear with pleasure of velvet beds with gilt cornices; superb China jars; marble tables and pillars of verde antique; sophas of mixed or other damask, with feet admirably carved and gilt; glasses of great dimensions, and tapestry of the gobelins. Or should imagination refuse to fill up the lofty and spacious rooms, the little printed book sold by the housekeeper, Mrs.. Empson, will give a perfect idea of it all; together with the Claudes, Guidos, and Caracchis; the Raphaels, Titians, and Rembrandts, that appeared in the eyes of D’Alonville, who loved and understood painting, to be the most desirable articles in this noble mansion.

  But courteous reader, if thou art spared a minute description of this Welsh palace, the country in which it stood must be a little more considered, for it was around that country, that with the dawn of the next morning, D’Alonville threw his eyes on the anxious enquiry, whether beneath some sheltering wood on the soft declivity of a hill, spreading its swelling bosom to the south, and watered by a gushing stream from the rock, some little white cottage might not peep forth — fit abode for love and Angelina.

  No such little rural building diversified the landscape; before the windows of the room assigned to D’Alonville, spread a great extent of the park, scattered over with clumps of different sorts of firs, oaks and beech, with here and there a venerable single tree; a wood now grey and joyless seemed at a considerable distance to mark the boundary of this side of the park, in which a temple or two was now distinguishable among the leafless trees; beyond it arose high and rugged hills, which shut out every other prospect, and which, to those who had never seen yet higher mountains, would appear, as impassable; even to D’Alonville they presented the idea of the towering defences of Abyssinia, as represented in a translation he had read of the celebrated work of Johnson. Nothing appeared like a village, or the blue smoke of farm houses dispersed among the woods that fringed the feet of these tall hills, aspiring above each other to the north.

  Disappointed on this side, D’Alonville now went into a small anti-room and light closet, appropriated also to his use, which looked towards the east. — Still all was park and plantation, diversified and ornamented. A river, or an extensive lake, whose terminations were hidden by knolls and woods, seemed to enclose the park on the eastern side — and beyond it an uncultivated and wild country, more thinly scattered with copices, arose towards the less lofty but still rugged high-lands that seemed every where the most prominent feature of the prospect.

  But by the faint and reluctant light the sun affords in the beginning of February, he could only partially distinguish the outline of the surrounding country, and he still hoped to see the tower of a village church, or the spire of a more lofty edifice in some small neighbouring town that might serve to direct his research for the habitation he so earnestly desired to find.

  As he learned the evening before that the lessons of the young men were to begin at an early hour, he hastened to find the room where they were to meet at breakfast, but his it was not very easy to do. He made his way, however, after some blunders, to the servants hall, but none of them were there, and he remained in undisturbed possession of the whole wing of the house for more than an hour, though he was fortunate enough in his journey round it to open the door of a very large library, the walls of which were covered with books of all languages and sciences; this he thought the most agreeable circumstance he had yet found in this stupendous residence; and he was examining the books in his own language, of which there seemed to be an assemblage of the best authors, when an housemaid half asleep entered the room, and without remarking him, began her morning task about the grate; D’Alonville moved forward to speak to her, the girl started and screamed, and in a tongue which was not English, declared that he had frightened her out of her wits!

  D’Alonville enquired whether Lord Aberdore and the family had arrived in the night? but the woman said no,— “and lucky enough,” said she, “they did’nt didn’t , for I am sure we ben’t not half ready for my lord and my lady, and there here be Master Poucefoort and the young lords come down, before our house was half a quarter fit for um.” D’Alonville now enquired if Mr. Paunceford was below, and when the family breakfasted? He was answered that it would still be a full hour before they were down stairs — but that if he pleased he might have his breakfast. — Of this offer D’Alonville accepted, wishing to take the opportunity of questioning the girl, whom he had contrived to make comprehend his meaning, as to the towns and villages in the neighbourhood.

  But he found that from her description it was impossible to make out any account which he could write to Mrs. Denzil, and he was therefore compelled, with whatever reluctance, to delay the information which he had promised to give immediately on his arrival, till he could himself go round the nearest villages and towns; the nearest of the latter, if town it might be called was Aberdore, at the distance of near five miles.

  At length, but not till he had passed near three hours alone, Frederic Vipont came up to his room, and informed him that they had settled not to begin any business that day, “for besides,” said he, “that papa and Lady Aberdore are expected, our tutor says he is so tired that he cannot stir, and Aurevalle and Harry want to go out on horseback. — Perhaps though, Sir, for all the little Doctor don’t like to move to day, you may chuse to ride with my brothers, and in that case there will be an horse got for you.”

  As D’Alonville desired nothing so much as to make observations on the country round Rock-March, he readily accepted this offer, though he though thought it necessary to speak first to Mr. Paunceford, and to offer, what indeed seemed to be incumbent upon him, to ride with the young men, as he himself declined it.

  Mr. Paunceford, who seemed to have acquired an amazing encrease of consequence, from having surveyed the scene of which he considered himself as master, received the civilities of D’Alonville with more than his usual coldness, and answered with a supercilious air, “y
ou may do as you please, Monseer, there are horses in the stable; but it is quite at your option; — my Lord Aurevalle and Mr. Vipont want no other than their usual attendants, the grooms.”

  Oh! but if it is not disagreeable, Sir, to you,” cried Lord Aurevalle, “I beg you will come with us; I shall have great pleasure in shewing you about the park, and you can’t imagine what a quantity of game we have in it. — I wish there would come a frost; for we have some of the best water shooting in England. — I dare say you can shoot, Sir?”

  “I dare say Monseer cannot,” interrupted Paunceford, “in his country I suppose nobody ever shot formerly but the grand monnark.”

  D’Alonville smiling at his ignorance, answered, “that he shot a little, but did not particularly pique himself upon it.” “And perhaps you can skate, Sir?” said the Lord; “Not particularly well,” answered D’Alonville. “I’ll go down myself and chuse an horse for you.” cried Lord Aurevalle, who seemed much more pleased with his foreign than his domestic tutor, “and I’ll have it ready for you in a minute;” without waiting for the approbation of Paunceford, who by his sour looks seemed much disposed to withhold it, the young man ran to execute his promise, and his two brothers scampered after him.

  D’Alonville, disgusted by the behaviour of Paunceford, was not disposed by the behaviour of Paunceford, was not disposed to attempt any conversation, but amused himself with the pictures, with which every room was furnished, the few moments he waited. — He was then summoned to the party below, and found an handsome hunter ready for him, in the deportment of which his young friends seemed much interested; while the country servants surveyed him with the same kind of doubting curiosity, as he had before remarked in the faces of the domestics at the hunting party in Needwood forest.