Definition of Imagery
In Chapter 20, Belcour visits Charlotte, who is already feeling insecure about her relationship with Montraville, and tries to drive a further wedge between them. Rowson uses an imagery-laden metaphor to describe the effect Belcour's visit has on Charlotte:
His visit was not long, but before he went he fixed a scorpion in the heart of Charlotte, whose venom embittered every future hour of her life.
Belcour is a terrible friend. Rowson explains that he wants to urge Charlotte to take revenge on Montraville by sleeping with him. What Belcour doesn't understand, though, is that Charlotte is too good a person to pursue revenge. She has made "imprudent" decisions that have landed her in a bad position, but she still has a greater sense of morality than Belcour. Rowson explains that Charlotte feels sad rather than vengeful toward Montraville.
The image of the scorpion "fixed" in her heart, "venom embitter[ing] every future hour of her life," captures the more precise nature of Charlotte's sadness. A scorpion is a dangerous creature that stings those who get too close to it. Metaphorically, it seems more closely linked to vengeance than sadness because of its toxic venom. If Rowson has just stated that Charlotte is sad and not vengeful, why does she use this strange metaphor? The metaphorical scorpion in Charlotte's heart indeed leaches venom, but it leaches it into the heart itself and into Charlotte's entire future, rendering them "bitter." This language of "bitterness" engages the reader's sense of taste. Like burnt food, Charlotte's future becomes unpalatable because of this "scorpion" Belcour plants in her heart. The scorpion thus represents a sadness that is self-destructive and dangerous first and foremost to Charlotte herself. Instead of poisoning her against Montraville, exactly, Belcour manages to poison Charlotte against her own heart.
In Chapter 30, Rowson uses imagery that helps emphasize Mademoiselle La Rue (Mrs. Crayton) and Mrs. Beauchamp as foils. In this chapter, Charlotte goes to Colonel Crayton's house to plead for Mrs. Crayton's help:
The soldier now shewed [Charlotte] Colonel Crayton’s door, and, with a beating heart, she knocked for admission.
Charlotte is alive, so her heart is of course literally beating. Her "beating heart," though, is also an image that draws on the reader's sense of sound. Rowson indirectly asks the reader to imagine the sound of Charlotte's heart as it drums her inner feelings against her chest. She is desperate: Montraville has abandoned her late in her pregnancy, and she has been evicted from her apartment. Standing before Mrs. Crayton's door, she is about to beg for sympathy and a place to stay. Charlotte's heartbeat echoes her knock on the door. It is now up to Mrs. Crayton to hear Charlotte's knock and respond with sympathy—or, as the reader soon sees, to dismiss her.
The idea of sympathy as the basis for the social contract was very popular in Britain and Early America at the end of the 18th century, in part due to the philosopher Adam Smith's popular Theory of Moral Sentiments. Smith argued that recognizing ourselves in others was fundamental to maintaining a healthy society. There are numerous instances in Charlotte Temple when Rowson describes sympathy with sound imagery, as a kind of call-and-response. When one person's heart calls out in distress, others have the choice to listen and respond or to ignore those calls. When Charlotte knocks on Mrs. Crayton's door, heart beating, she is giving Mrs. Crayton the chance to respond or sympathize.
Mrs. Crayton's failure to respond stands in direct contrast to the way Mrs. Beauchamp readily responds when she hears about Charlotte's predicament. In Chapter 32, the doctor visits Mrs. Beauchamp and tells her about a young woman who has just given birth in desperate circumstances:
“And where is she,” cried Mrs. Beauchamp when he had prescribed something for the child, and told his little pathetic tale, “where is she, Sir? we will go to her immediately. Heaven forbid that I should be deaf to the calls of humanity. Come we will go this instant.”
The doctor tells the story without naming any names, so Mrs. Beauchamp does not even realize yet that she has a personal connection to the woman in question. Mrs. Crayton turned Charlotte away, but Mrs. Beauchamp insists that she must go help this desperate woman because even for a stranger she cannot imagine being "deaf to the calls of humanity." This language echoes the idea that sympathy involves listening. It is a response to figurative sounds of distress. Because Mrs. Beauchamp is willing to listen, Charlotte and her baby get another chance for their story to be redeemed. Rowson uses this framing to position Mrs. Beauchamp as a foil for Mrs. Crayton. Both women influence Charlotte as mentors, but Mrs. Beauchamp is a far better model for Charlotte and for Rowson's young readers because she listens for the "calls of humanity" instead of ignoring them.
In Chapter 30, Rowson uses imagery that helps emphasize Mademoiselle La Rue (Mrs. Crayton) and Mrs. Beauchamp as foils. In this chapter, Charlotte goes to Colonel Crayton's house to plead for Mrs. Crayton's help:
The soldier now shewed [Charlotte] Colonel Crayton’s door, and, with a beating heart, she knocked for admission.
Charlotte is alive, so her heart is of course literally beating. Her "beating heart," though, is also an image that draws on the reader's sense of sound. Rowson indirectly asks the reader to imagine the sound of Charlotte's heart as it drums her inner feelings against her chest. She is desperate: Montraville has abandoned her late in her pregnancy, and she has been evicted from her apartment. Standing before Mrs. Crayton's door, she is about to beg for sympathy and a place to stay. Charlotte's heartbeat echoes her knock on the door. It is now up to Mrs. Crayton to hear Charlotte's knock and respond with sympathy—or, as the reader soon sees, to dismiss her.
The idea of sympathy as the basis for the social contract was very popular in Britain and Early America at the end of the 18th century, in part due to the philosopher Adam Smith's popular Theory of Moral Sentiments. Smith argued that recognizing ourselves in others was fundamental to maintaining a healthy society. There are numerous instances in Charlotte Temple when Rowson describes sympathy with sound imagery, as a kind of call-and-response. When one person's heart calls out in distress, others have the choice to listen and respond or to ignore those calls. When Charlotte knocks on Mrs. Crayton's door, heart beating, she is giving Mrs. Crayton the chance to respond or sympathize.
Mrs. Crayton's failure to respond stands in direct contrast to the way Mrs. Beauchamp readily responds when she hears about Charlotte's predicament. In Chapter 32, the doctor visits Mrs. Beauchamp and tells her about a young woman who has just given birth in desperate circumstances:
“And where is she,” cried Mrs. Beauchamp when he had prescribed something for the child, and told his little pathetic tale, “where is she, Sir? we will go to her immediately. Heaven forbid that I should be deaf to the calls of humanity. Come we will go this instant.”
The doctor tells the story without naming any names, so Mrs. Beauchamp does not even realize yet that she has a personal connection to the woman in question. Mrs. Crayton turned Charlotte away, but Mrs. Beauchamp insists that she must go help this desperate woman because even for a stranger she cannot imagine being "deaf to the calls of humanity." This language echoes the idea that sympathy involves listening. It is a response to figurative sounds of distress. Because Mrs. Beauchamp is willing to listen, Charlotte and her baby get another chance for their story to be redeemed. Rowson uses this framing to position Mrs. Beauchamp as a foil for Mrs. Crayton. Both women influence Charlotte as mentors, but Mrs. Beauchamp is a far better model for Charlotte and for Rowson's young readers because she listens for the "calls of humanity" instead of ignoring them.