The Smuggler: A Tale. Volumes I-IIIJames, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Smuggler: A Tale. Volumes I-III
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction; Kent (England) -- Fiction; Smugglers -- Fiction
Having thus given some idea of the interior of the building, I will
only pause to notice, that, at the period I speak of, it had one very
great defect. It was very much out of repair,--not, indeed, of that
sort of substantial repair which is necessary to comfort, but of that
pleasant repair which is agreeable to the eye. It was well and solidly
built, and was quite wind and water tight; but although the builders
of the day in which it was erected were, as every one knows,
peculiarly neat in their brick-work, yet Time would have his way even
with their constructions, and he had maliciously chiselled out the
pointing from between the sharp, well-cut bricks, scraped away the
mortar from the stone copings, and cracked and blistered the painting
of the wood-work. This labour of his had not only given a venerable,
but also a somewhat dilapidated appearance to the mansion; and some
green mould, with which he had taken the pains to dabble all the white
parts of the edifice, did not decrease the look of decay.
Sweeping round from the parish road that we have mentioned was a
branch, leading by the side of the lawn, and a gentle ascent up to the
terrace and to the great door, and carriages on arriving passed along
the whole front of the house by the western angle before they reached
the court-yard behind. But from that courtyard there were various
other means of exit. One to the kitchen garden, one to two or three
other courts, and one into the wood which came within fifty yards of
the enclosure; for, to use the ordinary romance phrase, Harbourne
House was literally "bosomed in wood." The windows, however, and the
front, commanded a fine view of a rich and undulating country,
plentifully garnished with trees, but still, for a considerable
distance, exposed to the eye, from the elevated ground upon which the
mansion was placed. A little hamlet was seen at the distance of about
two miles in front--I rather suspect it was Kenchill--and to the
eastward the house looked over the valley towards the high ground by
Woodchurch and Woodchurch Beacon, catching a blue line which probably
was Romney Marsh. Between, Woodchurch, however, and itself, was seen
standing out, straight and upright, a very trim-looking white
dwelling, flanked by some pleasant groves, and to the west were seen
one or two gentlemen's seats scattered about over the face of the
country. Behind, nothing of course was to be seen but tree-tops,
except from the window of one of the attics, whence the housemaid
could descry Biddenden Windmill and the top of Biddenden Church.
Harbourne Wood was indeed, at that time, very extensive, joining on to
the large piece of woodland, from which it is now separated, and
stretching out as far as that place with an unpleasant name, called
Gallows Green. The whole of this space, and a considerable portion of
the cultivated ground around, was within the manor of the master of
the mansion, Sir Robert Croyland, of Harbourne, the elder brother of
that Mr.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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