Online Texts for Craig White's Literature Courses

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Charlotte Temple

1791, 1794

by

Susanna Rowson

(1762-1824)

CHAPTER XVI.
NECESSARY DIGRESSION.

CHAPTER XVI. NECESSARY DIGRESSION.

[Instructor’s note: Sailing the Atlantic, La Rue abandons Belcour for the wealthy Colonel Crayton. Belcour turns his attention to Charlotte.]

[16.1] On board of the ship in which Charlotte and Mademoiselle were embarked, was an officer of large unencumbered fortune [<free of family responsibilities] and elevated rank, and whom I shall call Crayton.

[16.2] He was one of those men, who, having travelled in their youth, pretend to have contracted a peculiar fondness for everything foreign, and to hold in contempt the productions of their own country; and this affected partiality extended even to the women. [another defense of English domestic plain style w/ scorn for the French]

[16.3] With him therefore the blushing modesty and unaffected simplicity of Charlotte passed unnoticed; but the forward pertness of La Rue, the freedom of her conversation, the elegance of her person, mixed with a certain engaging JE NE SAIS QUOI, perfectly enchanted him. ["Je ne sais quoi" = "I don't know what"]

[16.4] The reader no doubt has already developed the character of La Rue: designing, artful, and selfish, she had accepted the devoirs [attentions] of Belcour because she was heartily weary of the retired life she led at the school, wished to be released from what she deemed a slavery, and to return to that vortex [whirl] of folly and dissipation which had once plunged her into the deepest misery; but her plan she flattered herself was now better formed: she resolved to put herself under the protection of no man till she had first secured a settlement [money]; but the clandestine manner in which she left Madame Du Pont's prevented her putting this plan in execution [bad references or reputation], though Belcour solemnly protested he would make her a handsome settlement the moment they arrived at Portsmouth. This he afterwards contrived to evade by a pretended hurry of business; La Rue readily conceiving he [Belcour] never meant to fulfil his promise, determined to change her battery [tactics], and attack the heart of Colonel Crayton. She soon discovered the partiality he entertained for her nation; and having imposed on him a feigned tale of distress, representing Belcour as a villain who had seduced her from her friends under promise of marriage, and afterwards betrayed her, pretending great remorse for the errors she had committed, and declaring whatever her affection for Belcour might have been, it was now entirely extinguished, and she wished for nothing more than an opportunity to leave a course of life which her soul abhorred; but she had no friends to apply to, they had all renounced her, and guilt and misery would undoubtedly be her future portion through life.

[16.5] Crayton was possessed of many amiable qualities, though the peculiar trait in his character [<preference for the foreign or exotic], which we have already mentioned, in a great measure threw a shade over them. He was beloved for his humanity and benevolence by all who knew him, but he was easy and unsuspicious himself, and became a dupe to the artifice [deception] of others.

[16.6] He was, when very young, united to an amiable Parisian lady, and perhaps it was his affection for her that laid the foundation for the partiality he ever retained for the whole nation. He had by her one daughter, who entered into the world but a few hours before her mother left it. This lady was universally beloved and admired, being endowed with all the virtues of her mother, without the weakness of the father: she was married to Major Beauchamp, and was at this time in the same fleet with her father, attending her husband to New-York.

[16.7] Crayton was melted by the affected contrition and distress of La Rue: he would converse with her for hours, read to her, play cards with her, listen to all her complaints, and promise to protect her to the utmost of his power. La Rue easily saw his character; her sole aim was to awaken a passion in his bosom that might turn out to her advantage, and in this aim she was but too successful, for before the voyage was finished, the infatuated Colonel gave her from under his hand [i.e., in writing] a promise of marriage on their arrival at New-York, under forfeiture of five thousand pounds.

[16.8] And how did our poor Charlotte pass her time during a tedious and tempestuous passage? naturally delicate, the fatigue and sickness which she endured rendered her so weak as to be almost entirely confined to her bed: yet the kindness and attention of Montraville in some measure contributed to alleviate her sufferings, and the hope of hearing from her friends soon after her arrival, kept up her spirits, and cheered many a gloomy hour.

[16.9] But during the voyage a great revolution took place not only in the fortune of La Rue but in the bosom of Belcour: whilst in pursuit of his amour with Mademoiselle, he had attended little to the interesting, inobtrusive charms of Charlotte, but when, cloyed by possession, and disgusted with the art and dissimulation of one, he beheld the simplicity and gentleness of the other [Charlotte], the contrast became too striking not to fill him at once with surprise and admiration. He frequently conversed with Charlotte; he found her sensible, well informed, but diffident and unassuming. The languor which the fatigue of her body and perturbation of her mind spread over her delicate features, served only in his opinion to render her more lovely: he knew that Montraville did not design to marry her, and he formed a resolution to endeavour to gain her himself whenever Montraville should leave her.

[16.10] Let not the reader imagine Belcour's designs were honourable. Alas! when once a woman has forgot the respect due to herself, by yielding to the solicitations of illicit love, they lose all their consequence [status, claims to honor], even in the eyes of the man whose art has betrayed them, and for whose sake they have sacrificed every valuable consideration.

     The heedless Fair, who stoops to guilty joys,

     A man may pity—but he must despise.

[16.11] Nay, every libertine [sexual adventurer] will think he has a right to insult her with his licentious passion; and should the unhappy creature shrink from the insolent overture, he will sneeringly taunt her with pretence of modesty.

Continue to Chapter 17