Watercolor miniature portrait of Susanna Rowson (1762-1824)
CHARLOTTE TEMPLE
[a novel by]
SUSANNA HASWELL ROWSON
[1791]
CHAPTER I.
A Boarding School.
CHAPTER II.
Domestic Concerns.
CHAPTER III.
Unexpected Misfortunes.
CHAPTER IV.
Change of Fortune.
CHAPTER V.
Such Things Are.
CHAPTER VI.
An Intriguing Teacher.
CHAPTER VII.
Natural Sense of Propriety Inherent in the
Female Bosom.
CHAPTER VIII.
Domestic Pleasures Planned.
CHAPTER IX.
We Know Not What a Day May Bring Forth.
CHAPTER X.
When We Have Excited Curiosity, It Is But an Act
of Good Nature to Gratify it.
CHAPTER XI.
Conflict of Love and Duty.
CHAPTER XII.
Nature's last, best gift:
Creature in whom excell'd, whatever could
To sight or thought be nam'd!
Holy, divine! good, amiable, and sweet!
How thou art falln'!--
CHAPTER XIII.
Cruel Disappointment.
CHAPTER XIV.
Maternal Sorrow.
CHAPTER XV.
Embarkation.
CHAPTER XVI.
Necessary Digression.
CHAPTER XVII.
A Wedding.
VOLUME II.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Reflections.
CHAPTER XIX.
A Mistake Discovered.
CHAPTER XX.
Virtue never appears so amiable as when reaching
forth her hand to raise a fallen sister.
Chapter of Accidents.
CHAPTER XXI.
Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I see,
That mercy I to others show
That mercy show to me. POPE.
CHAPTER XXII.
Sorrows of the Heart.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A Man May Smile, and Smile, and Be a Villain.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Mystery Developed.
CHAPTER XXV.
Reception of a Letter.
CHAPTER XXVI.
What Might Be Expected.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Pensive she mourn'd, and hung her languid head,
Like a fair lily overcharg'd with dew.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A Trifling Retrospect.
CHAPTER XXIX.
We Go Forward Again.
CHAPTER XXX.
And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep,
A shade that follows wealth and fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Subject Continued.
CHAPTER XXXII.
Reasons Why and Wherefore.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Which People Void of Feeling Need Not Read.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Retribution.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Conclusion.
PREFACE.
FOR the perusal of the young and thoughtless of the fair sex, this Tale of Truth is designed; and I could wish my fair readers to consider it as not merely the effusion of Fancy, but as a reality. The circumstances on which I have founded this novel were related to me some little time since by an old lady who had personally known Charlotte, though she concealed the real names of the characters, and likewise the place where the unfortunate scenes were acted: yet as it was impossible to offer a relation to the public in such an imperfect state, I have thrown over the whole a slight veil of fiction, and substituted names and places according to my own fancy.
The principal characters in this little tale are now consigned to the silent tomb: it can therefore hurt the feelings of no one; and may, I flatter myself, be of service to some who are so unfortunate as to have neither friends to advise, or understanding to direct them, through the various and unexpected evils that attend a young and unprotected woman in her first entrance into life.
While the tear of compassion still trembled in my eye for the fate of the unhappy Charlotte, I may have children of my own, said I, to whom this recital may be of use, and if to your own children, said Benevolence, why not to the many daughters of Misfortune who, deprived of natural friends, or spoilt by a mistaken education, are thrown on an unfeeling world without the least power to defend themselves from the snares not only of the other sex, but from the more dangerous arts of the profligate of their own.
Sensible as I am that a novel writer, at a time when such a variety of works are ushered into the world under that name, stands but a poor chance for fame in the annals of literature, but conscious that I wrote with a mind anxious for the happiness of that sex whose morals and conduct have so powerful an influence on mankind in general; and convinced that I have not wrote a line that conveys a wrong idea to the head or a corrupt wish to the heart, I shall rest satisfied in the purity of my own intentions, and if I merit not applause, I feel that I dread not censure.
If the following tale should save one hapless fair one from the errors which ruined poor Charlotte, or rescue from impending misery the heart of one anxious parent, I shall feel a much higher gratification in reflecting on this trifling performance, than could possibly result from the applause which might attend the most elegant finished piece of literature whose tendency might deprave the heart or mislead the understanding.
CHARLOTTE TEMPLE,
VOLUME I
CHAPTER I.
A BOARDING SCHOOL.
"ARE you for a walk," said Montraville to his companion, as they arose from table; "are you for a walk? or shall we order the chaise and proceed to Portsmouth?" Belcour preferred the former; and they sauntered out to view the town, and to make remarks on the inhabitants, as they returned from church.
Montraville was a Lieutenant in the army: Belcour was his brother officer: they had been to take leave of their friends previous to their departure for America, and were now returning to Portsmouth, where the troops waited orders for embarkation. They had stopped at Chichester to dine; and knowing they had sufficient time to reach the place of destination before dark, and yet allow them a walk, had resolved, it being Sunday afternoon, to take a survey of the Chichester ladies as they returned from their devotions.
They had gratified their curiosity, and were preparing to return to the inn without honouring any of the belles with particular notice, when Madame Du Pont, at the head of her school, descended from the church. Such an assemblage of youth and innocence naturally attracted the young soldiers: they stopped; and, as the little cavalcade passed, almost involuntarily pulled off their hats.
A tall, elegant girl looked at Montraville and blushed: he instantly recollected the features of Charlotte Temple, whom he had once seen and danced with at a ball at Portsmouth. At that time he thought on her only as a very lovely child, she being then only thirteen; but the improvement two years had made in her person, and the blush of recollection which suffused her cheeks as she passed, awakened in his bosom new and pleasing ideas.
Vanity led him to think that pleasure at again beholding him might have occasioned the emotion he had witnessed, and the same vanity led him to wish to see her again.
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3 comments:
Hey, there is a great deal of effective info above!
Of course, the writer is totally fair.
It's all wrong what you're writing.
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