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Updated: June 22, 2025
Charley was cultivating a mustache and speculating upon a new revolution. Tom Herbert and Katy were on a visit to "Disaways." "Poor Nighthawk is the only one whom I miss, my dear Surry," said Mohun. "He died trying to save me, and I have had his body taken to Fonthill, where it is buried in the family graveyard." "He was a faithful friend; and to be killed on that very last morning was hard.
'Fonthill' this old house had been, for many generations, the scene of a profuse hospitality; my father kept up the ancient rites, entertaining all comers; and when I grew to boyhood I unconsciously imbibed the feelings, and clung to the traditions of the family.
The late death of my friend, in causing his domain to be thrown open to certain classes of visiters, has given to Arnheim a species of secret and subdued if not solemn celebrity, similar in kind, although infinitely superior in degree, to that which so long distinguished Fonthill. The usual approach to Arnheim was by the river. The visiter left the city in the early morning.
Into these recriminations it is needless to enter; those who wish can read for themselves in the works mentioned. A marked symptom of growing alienation was afforded by his leaving her on the 19th of December, in company with the Hamiltons, to spend the Christmas holidays at Fonthill, the seat of William Beckford.
Then she would belong to me I could do as I pleased with her take her to Fonthill, or where I chose she only begged that I would allow her to embark on the ocean of matrimony, with no one to witness her blushes but myself, her brother, the old housekeeper, and the good minister! "I consented at once.
But about the grand mansion hung an august air of departed splendor which to me, was more striking than if I had visited it in the days of its glory. "Let me introduce 'Fonthill' to you, or rather the remains of it, Surry," Mohun said, with a sad smile.
Then he added, "But you've been to Bath and of course you've seen them, and know all about it." About firewood-gathering by the poor in woods and forests, my old friend of Fonthill Bishop says that the people of the villages adjacent to the Fonthill and Great Ridge Woods were allowed to take as much dead wood as they wanted from those places.
She was three years old when her mother died, after the birth of a boy, the last of eleven children. There was a dame's school in their little village of Fonthill Abbey, but the poverty of the family would have made it impossible for Joan to attend had it not been for an unselfish person residing there, a Mr. King, who was anxious that every child should be taught its letters.
Another person who remembered that time was an old but remarkably well-preserved man of eighty-nine at Hindon, a village a couple of miles distant from Fonthill Bishop.
At the height of happiness, I looked serenely down upon all the world, and with the hand of my wife in my own, was driven rapidly to Fonthill. "We arrived in the afternoon, and dined in state, all alone. Madam did the honors of her table with exquisite grace, but more than once I saw her hand shake in a very singular way, as she carried food or a glass to her lips.
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