Montalbert returned more deeply impressed than ever with the generosity of Walsingham. He had, however, paid all the pecuniary obligations Rosalie owed him, and they parted with mutual professions of friendship.
In a few days afterwards Mr. and Mrs. Montalbert, and their little boy, went round the coast into Kent, and took a house near Margate for the rest of the summer, while Ormsby made a tour through the western countries in search of a purchase for his daughter, where, at a small distance, he might find a residence for himself.
Montalbert, whose natural infirmities of temper had been chastised and corrected by the events which had so nearly deprived him of the felicity he enjoyed, seemed now to think that he could never make sufficient amends to his charming wife for the injury he had done her, by giving way to suspicions she so little deserved. About three months after his removal to London, Walsingham went to Italy, where, by means of some Italian friends of high rank, he procured an introduction to Signora Belcastro, and gradually contrived to inform her of the share he had had in delivering her daughter-in-law from her usurped power, while he undeceived her in regard to many representations made by Alozzi, who, finding himself baffled in designs, which the absence and probable death of Montalbert had occasioned him to form, had really been, in his turn, the dupe of Signora Belcastro, and had followed the scent she had artfully given, that Rosalie had eloped with an Englishman. —— Walsingham acquired so much influence over the mind of this strange woman, that though he could not prevail upon her to forgive her son for having married as he did, she at length relented in favour of his children, and settled upon them what she had intended for their father, to whom, however, her pride and Walsingham’s persuasions prevailed upon her to allow a handsome annual income.
Montalbert enjoyed, at a small but beautiful place on the coast of Dorsetshire, with which Ormsby had presented his wife, more happiness than usually falls to the lot of humanity. Rosalie passed her life in studying how to contribute to his felicity, and that of her father, and, by her sweetness and attention, she won them both from those little asperities and difference of temper which had once threatened to destroy their domestic comfort.
But notwithstanding the cheerful and even gay letters which Walsingham wrote to his friends, letters which greatly contributed to the happiness of Rosalie, who retained for him the most grateful regard, he was still an unhappy wanderer; and when he had done all he could to restore Montalbert to his mother’s favour, and was no longer animated by the hope of serving Rosalie, he sunk again into that cold despondence, which a sensible heart feels when the world around is as a desart. The agonies with which he had wept over the grave of his Leonora had been suspended by the almost imperceptible attachment which had crept into his bosom for Rosalie, and which he had indulged but too much, after there appeared some probability that Montalbert was no more.
The last letters he wrote to England informed his friends that he was setting out on a tour through Spain and Portugal; and that finding himself more than ever disposed to wander, he thought it not improbable but that he might go from thence to the Cape, and so to the East Indies. —— In the pursuit of science and knowledge he found consolation, when no benevolent action offered itself to satisfy his philanthropy; but so generally is misery diffused, that there were few places which did not offer objects for this indulgence — though none could interest him like the amiable Being whom he had released from the dreary confinement of Formiscusa, and restored to the possession of the happiness she now enjoyed — a happiness which alone could soften the sadness of his own destiny!!!
THE END
The Biography
Charlotte Smith by George Romney
Charlotte Smith: A Memoir by Sir Walter Scott
Miscellaneous Prose, Volume IV, 1853, Edinburgh
THIS tribute of affection to one of our most distinguished Novelists, is not from the pen of the Author of the Biographical Sketches in the preceding volume. It was communicated to him in the most obliging manner by Mrs Dorset, sister of the subject of the Memoir, and not more nearly allied to her in blood than in genius. The publication which it was intended to accompany, being discontinued, as mentioned in the preliminary advertisement, vol. III., the following paper was never before in print. But on collecting the Biographical Sketches in the present form, the author could not abandon the claim, so kindly permitted him, to add this to the number. He is himself responsible for the critical remarks which conclude the article.
* * * *
MRS CHARLOTTE SMITH was the eldest daughter of Nicholas Turner, Esq of Stoke House, in Surrey, and of Bignor Park, in Sussex, by Anna Towers, his first wife. She was born in King Street, St James’s Square, on the 4th of May 1749. Before she had accomplished her fourth year, she was deprived of a mother as distinguished by her superior understanding as for her uncommon beauty. The charge of her education devolved on her aunt, who with unwearied zeal devoted the best years of her life to the duty she had undertaken. Accomplishments seemed to have been the objects of her ambition, and no time was lost in their attainment; for her little charge was attended by an eminent dancing-master, when such a mere infant, that she was taught her first steps on a dining-table. She never recollected the time when, she could not read, and was in the habit of reading every book that fell in her way, even before she went to school, which was at six years old, when she was placed in a respectable establishment at Chichester.
Her father, desirous of cultivating her talent for drawing, engaged George Smith, a celebrated artist, and a native and inhabitant of that city, to instruct her in the rudiments of his art, and she was taken two or three times in a week to his house to receive lessons.
From Chichester she was removed in her eighth year to a school at Kensington, at that time in high repute, and where the daughters of the most distinguished families received their education. Of her progress at this time I am tempted to give the following account from the pen of a lady who was her schoolfellow: —
“In answer to your inquiry, whether Mrs Smith was during our intimacy at school superior to other young persons of her age, my recollection enables me to tell you, that she excelled most of us in writing and drawing. She was reckoned by far the finest dancer, and was always brought forward for exhibition whenever company was assembled to see our performances; and she would have excelled all her competitors, had her application borne any proportion to her talents; but she was always thought too great a genius to study. She had a great taste for music, and a correct ear, but never applied to it with sufficient steadiness to insure success. But however she might be inferior to others in some points, she was far above them in intellect, and the general improvement of the mind. She had read more than any one in the school, and was continually composing verses; she was considered romantic; and though I was not of that turn myself, I neither loved nor admired her the less for it. In my opinion, her ideas were always original, full of wit and imagination, and her conversation singularly pleasing; and so I have continued to think, since a greater intercourse with society, and a more perfect knowledge of the world, has better qualified me to estimate her character.”
In this seminary it was the custom for the pupils to perform both French and English plays, and on these occasions the talents of Miss Turner were always put in requisition, as she was considered by far the best actress of the little troop; and her theatrical talents were much applauded both at school and at home, where she was frequently called on to exhibit her powers to whatever company happened to be assembled at her father’s. I do not think this early, and certainly injudicious display, produced the unfavourable effect on her manners which might have been expected. It induced no boldness or undue confidence, for she was rather of a retiring than of an assuming disposition; yet it probably had an unfavourable influence on her character, and contributed to foster that romantic turn of mind which distinguished her even in childhood. It was at this school she first began to compose verses; — they were shown and praised among the friends of the fa
mily as proofs of early genius; but none of them have been preserved. I have an imperfect recollection that the subject of one of these early effusions was the death of General Wolfe, when she must have been in her tenth year — though she speaks in one of her works of earlier compositions.
At twelve years of age she quitted school, and her father, then residing part of the year in London, engaged masters to attend her at home; but very little advantage could have been derived from their instructions, for she was at that early age introduced into society, frequented all public places with her family, and her appearance and manners were so much beyond her years, that at fourteen her father received proposals for her from a gentleman of suitable station and fortune, which were rejected on account of her extreme youth. Happy would it have been if reasons of such weight had continued in force a few years longer!
With so many objects to engage her attention, and the late hours incident to a life of dissipation, her studies (if they could be so called) were not prosecuted with any degree of diligence or success. As if foreseeing how short would be the period of her youthful pleasures, she pursued them with the avidity natural to her lively character; and though her father was sometimes disposed to check her love of dissipation, he always suffered himself to be disarmed by a few sighs or tears. Her passion for books continued unabated, though her reading was indiscriminate, and chiefly confined to poetry and works of fiction. At this time she sent several of her compositions to the editors of the Lady’s Magazine, unknown to her aunt.
It is evident that Mrs Smith’s education, though very expensive, was superficial, and not calculated to give her any peculiar advantages. Her father’s unbounded indulgence, and that of an aunt who almost idolized her, was ill calculated to prepare her mind to contend with the calamities of her future life; she often regretted that her attention bad not been directed to more useful reading, and the study of languages. If she had any advantage over other young persons, it must have been in the society of her father, who was himself not only an elegant poet and a scholar, but a man of infinite wit and imagination, and it was scarce possible to live with him without catching some sparks of that brilliant fire which enlivened his conversation, and rendered him one of the most delightful companions of his time; yet when the short period is considered between the time of her leaving school and her marriage, and that his convivial talents made his company so generally courted, that he had little leisure to bestow on his family, she must rather have inherited than acquired the playful wit and peculiar vein of humour which distinguished her conversation.
In 1764, Mr Turner decided on a second marriage, and his sister-in-law contemplated this event with the most painful apprehensions for the happiness of that being who was the object of her dearest affections, and who, having hitherto been indulged in every wish, and even every caprice, was ill prepared to submit to the control of a mother-in-law. Without reflecting that the evil she anticipated with such feelings of dread would probably exist only for a short period, (for it was unlikely a young lady who was so generally admired would remain long single,) she endeavoured, with a precipitation she had afterwards great reason to deplore, to establish her by an advantageous marriage, and her wishes were seconded by some officious and short-sighted relations, by whose means her introduction to Mr Smith was contrived, after having properly prepared him, by their representations and excessive praises, to fall in love at first sight. The event justified their expectations — he did fall in love; care was taken to keep alive the flame by frequent parties of pleasure, and meetings at public places. He was just twenty-one, and she was not quite fifteen, when the acquaintance first took place, and it was no difficult task to talk her into acquiescence with her aunt’s views. Proposals were made, and accepted without much inquiry into the young man’s disposition or character. He was the second son of Richard Smith, Esq a West India merchant, and Director of the East India Company, who had realized a large fortune, and his younger son had been admitted a partner in his lucrative business. The choice of his son did not at first meet with his approbation — he would have been better pleased had he selected the daughter of some thrifty citizen, than that of a gay man of the world, whom he concluded (and justly enough) had not been brought up in those economical habits which he considered the most desirable qualifications in a wife; but the first interview with his future daughter-in-law overcame all his objections, and he ever after distinguished her with peculiar affection and partiality. This ill-assorted marriage took place on the 23d of February 1765; and after a residence of some months with Mr Smith’s sister, the widow of William Berney, Esq. Mrs Smith found herself established in the house which had been prepared for her in one of the narrowest and most dirty lanes in the city. It was a large dull habitation, into which the cheering beams of the sun had never penetrated. It was impossible to enter it without experiencing a chilling sensation and depression of spirits, which induced a longing desire to escape from its gloom, which not all the taste and expense with which it had been fitted up could dispel.
The habits to which its young mistress was expected to conform, were little congenial to her feelings. The lower part of the house was appropriated to the business, and hither the elder Mr Smith came every morning to superintend his commercial concerns, and usually took his chocolate in his daughter-in-law’s dressing-room. He was a worthy, and even a good-natured man, but he had mixed very little in general society — his ideas were confined, and his manners and habits were not calculated to inspire affection, however he might be entitled to respect and gratitude. He had no taste for literature, and the elegant amusements of his daughter-in-law appeared to him as so many sources of expense, and as encroachments on time, which he thought should be exclusively dedicated to domestic occupations; he had a quiet petulant way of speaking, and a pair of keen black eyes, which, darting from under his bushy black eye-brows the most inquisitive glances, always appeared to be in search of something to find fault with; so that whenever the creaking of his “youthful shoes well saved” gave notice that one of his domiciliary visits was about to take place, it was the signal for hurrying away whatever was likely to be the subject of his displeasure, or the object of his curiosity. If any of her friends or acquaintance happened to call on her, he would examine them with a suspicious curiosity, which usually compelled them to shorten their visits, and took from them the desire of repeating them. His lady, who was at that time in very ill health, exacted the constant attendance of the family, and a more irksome task could hardly have been imposed on a young person. “I pass almost every day,” says Mrs Smith, in a letter to one of her early friends, “with the poor sick old lady, with whom, however, I am no great favourite; somebody has told her I have not been notably brought up, (which I am afraid is true enough,) and she asks me questions which, to say the truth, I am not very well able to answer. There are no women, she says, so well qualified for mistresses of families as the ladies of Barbadoes, whose knowledge of housewifery she is perpetually contrasting with my ignorance, and, very unfortunately, those subjects on which I am informed, give me little credit with her; on the contrary, are rather a disadvantage to me? yet I have not seen any of their paragons whom I am at all disposed to envy.”
The stately formality of this lady, her tall meagre figure, languid air, and sallow complexion, with the monotonous drawl and pronunciation peculiar to the natives of the West Indies, rendered her one of the most wearisome persons that can be imagined, and I fear her economical lectures had very little attraction for a girl who had never been required to pay much attention to household cares,, and were listened to with apathy and disgust. This lady did not live long enough to effect the reformation she was so anxious for; her death, however, produced no great relief from this bondage. Mrs Smith’s attendance on her father-in-law was more than ever required, and a heavier duty never fell to the lot of youth and beauty. The poor old man was afflicted with a complication of disorders. From long residence in the West Indies he was so sensible of cold that he shr
unk from the slightest breeze — no air was permitted to refresh his apartment, in which he sat in the hottest days of summer wrapped in his red roquelaure, surrounded with all the apparatus of sickness; she was expected to accompany him in his airings, on the dusty turnpike roads, with just enough of the carriage windows let down to admit the smell of brick kilns, or the stagnant green ditches in the environs of Islington.
In the intervals of this recreation she had to assist at the lectures of an old governante, part of whose business it was to lull her master to sleep, by reading devotional books of the most gloomy tendency, with a broad Cumberland accent. Never did religion wear a garb so unalluring as in this house.
The comfort of her own family was not improved by the accession of four or five wild, ungovernable, West Indian boys, (sons of the correspondents of the house,) who, during the Eton and Harrow vacations, were its inmates.
Though she could occasionally give way to the sportiveness of her fancy, and describe these scenes of ennui and discomfort in the most humorous manner, yet the aversion she entertained for everything connected with this period of her life, and its contrast with her previous gay and cheerful habits, seems to have made the deepest impression, and to have reverted to her mind latterly in the most forcible manner; and her feelings are beautifully depicted in her unfinished Poem of Beechy Head. The lines are quoted by the elegant author of the Literaria Censura.
The following little Poem, in which melancholy and humour are not unpleasingly blended, appears, from the feebleness of the hand-writing, to have been composed a very short time before her death.
TO MY LYRE.
Charlotte Smith- Collected Poetical Works Page 248