Charlotte Temple quotes

“This is a strange place,” said he to Temple, “to receive visitors of distinction in, but we must fit our feelings to our station. While I am not ashamed to own the cause which brought me here, why should I blush at my situation?

Our misfortunes are not our faults;

and were it not for that poor girl—”

and what have I done to deserve ease and plenty, while a brave worthy officer starves in a prison? Three hundred a year is surely sufficient for all my wants and wishes; at any rate Eldridge must be relieved.”

When the heart has will, the hands can soon find means to execute a good action.

Temple was a young man, his feelings warm and impetuous; unacquainted with the world, his heart had not been rendered callous by being convinced of its fraud and hypocrisy.

In the meantime, the earl, vexed to the soul that such a fortune should be lost, determined to offer himself a candidate for Miss Weatherby’s favor.

What wonderful changes are wrought by that reigning power, ambition!

The lovesick girl, when first she heard of Temple’s refusal, wept, raved, tore her hair, and vowed to found a Protestant nunnery with her fortune; and by commencing abbess, shut herself up from the sight of cruel ungrateful man forever.

nor is it improbable but her mind might revert to the agreeable person and martial appearance of Montraville.

In affairs of love, a young heart is never in more danger than when attempted by a handsome young soldier.

A man of an indifferent appearance will, when arrayed in a military habit, show to advantage, but when beauty of person, elegance of manner, and an easy method of paying compliments are united to the scarlet coat, smart cockade, and military sash, ah!

… me the good old man stooping to raise the weeping penitent, while every tear from her eye is numbered by drops from his bleeding heart, my bosom glows with honest indignation, and I wish for power to extirpate those monsters of seduction from the earth.

Oh, my dear girls⁠—for to such only am I writing⁠—listen not to the voice of love, unless sanctioned by paternal approbation:

be assured, it is now past the days of romance: no woman can be run away with contrary to her own inclination:

I know you have: I see it in the wan cheek, sunk eye, and air of chagrin, which ever mark the children of dissipation.

Pleasure is a vain illusion; she draws you on to a thousand follies, errors, and, I may say, vices, and then leaves you to deplore your thoughtless credulity.

Look, my dear friends, at yonder lovely Virgin, arrayed in a white robe, devoid of ornament; behold the meekness of her countenance, the modesty of her gait; her handmaids are Humility, Filial Piety, Conjugal Affection, Industry, and Benevolence; her name is Content;

dissipated, thoughtless and capricious, he paid little regard to the moral duties, and less to religious ones: eager in the pursuit of pleasure, he minded not the miseries he inflicted on others, provided his own wishes, however extravagant, were gratified.

Self, darling self, was the idol he worshiped, and to that he would have sacrificed the interest and happiness of all mankind.

Such was the friend of Montraville;

Charlotte had, when she went out to meet Montraville, flattered herself that her resolution was not to be shaken, and that, conscious of the impropriety of her conduct in having a clandestine intercourse with a stranger, she would never repeat the indiscretion.

But alas! poor Charlotte, she knew not the deceitfulness of her own heart, or she would have avoided the trial of her stability.

Montraville was tender, eloquent, ardent, and yet respectful. “Shall I not see you once more,” said he, “before I leave England? Will you not bless me by an assurance that when we are divided by a vast expanse of sea, I shall not be forgotten?”

“you never know your own mind two minutes at a time. Just now you declared Montraville’s happiness was what you prized most in the world; and now I suppose you repent having insured that happiness by agreeing to accompany him abroad.”

“Indeed, I do repent,” replied Charlotte, “from my soul; but while discretion points out the impropriety of my conduct, inclination urges me on to ruin.”

“Ruin! fiddlesticks!” said mademoiselle; “am not I going with you? and do I feel any of these qualms?”

“Indeed, I do repent,” replied Charlotte, “from my soul; but while discretion points out the impropriety of my conduct, inclination urges me on to ruin.”

“Ruin! fiddlesticks!” said mademoiselle; “am not I going with you? and do I feel any of these qualms?”

“You do not renounce a tender father and mother,” said Charlotte.

It was certainly extremely wrong. It was indelicate. She mentioned her thoughts to Montraville. He laughed at her simplicity, called her a little idiot, and patting her on the cheek, said she knew nothing of the world.

“If the world sanctifies such things, ’tis a very bad world I think,” said Charlotte.

“Why, I always understood they were to have been married when they arrived at New York. I am sure mademoiselle told me Belcour promised to marry her.”

“Thou hadst thy faults, but sure thy sufferings have expiated them: thy errors brought thee to an early grave; but thou wert a fellow creature—thou hast been unhappy—then be those errors forgotten.”

Then, as she stoops to pluck the noxious weed from off the sod, a tear will fall and consecrate the spot to Charity.

Forever honored be the sacred drop of humanity; the angel of mercy shall record its source, and the soul from whence it sprang shall be immortal.

Then, as she stoops to pluck the noxious weed from off the sod, a tear will fall and consecrate the spot to Charity.

Forever honored be the sacred drop of humanity; the angel of mercy shall record its source, and the soul from whence it sprang shall be immortal.

My dear madam, contract not your brow into a frown of disapprobation. I mean not to extenuate the faults of those unhappy women who fall victims to guilt and folly;

but alas! it can not be, you say; the world would deride and scoff.

Then let me tell you, madam, it is a very unfeeling world, and does not deserve half the blessings which a bountiful Providence showers upon it.

Oh, thou benevolent Giver of all good! how shall we erring mortals dare to look up to thy mercy in the great day of retribution, if we now uncharitably refuse to overlook the errors, or alleviate the miseries of our fellow creatures!

How such a man came into the army we hardly know to account for; and how he afterward rose to posts of honor is likewise strange and wonderful.

But fortune is blind, and so are those, too, frequently, who have the power of dispensing her favors: else why do we see fools and knaves at the very top of the wheel, while patient merit sinks to the extreme of the opposite abyss.

But we may form a thousand conjectures on this subject, and yet never hit on the right.

but Mrs. Crayton remained inflexible. In vain did Charlotte recount the time they had known each other at Chichester; in vain mention their being in the same ship; in vain were the names of Montraville and Belcour mentioned.

Mrs. Crayton could only say she was sorry for her imprudence, but could not think of having her own reputation endangered by encouraging a woman of that kind in her own house;

besides, she did not know what trouble and expense she might bring upon her husband by giving shelter to a woman in her situation.