“They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany, where I
discovered them. Felix soon learned that the treacherous Turk, for whom
he and his family endured such unheard-of oppression, on discovering
that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and impotence, became a
traitor to good feeling and honour, and had quitted Italy with his
daughter, insultingly sending Felix a pittance of money to aid him, as
he said, in some plan of future maintenance. “Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix, and rendered
him, when I first saw him, the most miserable of his family. He could
have endured poverty, and when this distress had been the meed of his
virtue, he would have gloried in it: but the ingratitude of the Turk,
and the loss of his beloved Safie, were misfortunes more bitter and
irreparable. The arrival of the Arabian now infused new life into his
soul. “When the news reached Leghorn, that Felix was deprived of his wealth
and rank, the merchant commanded his daughter to think no more of her
lover, but to prepare to return with him to her native country. The
generous nature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted to
expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his
tyrannical mandate. “A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter’s apartment, and told
her hastily, that he had reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn
had been divulged, and that he should speedily be delivered up to the
French government; he had, consequently, hired a vessel to convey him
to Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He
intended to leave his daughter under the care of a confidential servant,
to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his property, which
had not yet arrived at Leghorn. “When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it
would become her to pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkey was
abhorrent to her; her religion and feelings were alike adverse to it. By
some papers of her father’s, which fell into her hands, she heard of the
exile of her lover, and learnt the name of the spot where he then
resided. She hesitated some time, but at length she formed her
determination. Taking with her some jewels that belonged to her, and a
small sum of money, she quitted Italy, with an attendant, a native of
Leghorn, but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed
for Germany. “She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage
of De Lacey, when her attendant fell dangerously ill. Safie nursed her
with the most devoted affection; but the poor girl died, and the Arabian
was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country, and
utterly ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however, into
good hands. The Italian had mentioned the name of the spot for which
they were bound; and, after her death, the woman of the house in which
they had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at the
cottage of her lover.”




CHAPTER VII. “Such was the history of my beloved cottagers. It impressed me deeply. I
learned, from the views of social life which it developed, to admire
their virtues, and to deprecate the vices of mankind. “As yet I looked upon crime as a distant evil; benevolence and
generosity were ever present before me, inciting within me a desire to
become an actor in the busy scene where so many admirable qualities were
called forth and displayed. But, in giving an account of the progress of
my intellect, I must not omit a circumstance which occurred in the
beginning of the month of August of the same year. “One night, during my accustomed visit to the neighbouring wood, where I
collected my own food, and brought home firing for my protectors, I
found on the ground a leathern portmanteau, containing several articles
of dress and some books. I eagerly seized the prize, and returned with
it to my hovel. Fortunately the books were written in the language the
elements of which I had acquired at the cottage; they consisted of
_Paradise Lost_, a volume of _Plutarch’s Lives_, and the _Sorrows of
Werter_. The possession of these treasures gave me extreme delight; I
now continually studied and exercised my mind upon these histories,
whilst my friends were employed in their ordinary occupations. “I can hardly describe to you the effect of these books. They produced
in me an infinity of new images and feelings, that sometimes raised me
to ecstacy, but more frequently sunk me into the lowest dejection. In
the _Sorrows of Werter_, besides the interest of its simple and
affecting story, so many opinions are canvassed, and so many lights
thrown upon what had hitherto been to me obscure subjects, that I found
in it a never-ending source of speculation and astonishment. The gentle
and domestic manners it described, combined with lofty sentiments and
feelings, which had for their object something out of self, accorded
well with my experience among my protectors, and with the wants which
were for ever alive in my own bosom. But I thought Werter himself a more
divine being than I had ever beheld or imagined; his character contained
no pretension, but it sunk deep. The disquisitions upon death and
suicide were calculated to fill me with wonder. I did not pretend to
enter into the merits of the case, yet I inclined towards the opinions
of the hero, whose extinction I wept, without precisely understanding
it. “As I read, however, I applied much personally to my own feelings and
condition. I found myself similar, yet at the same time strangely unlike
the beings concerning whom I read, and to whose conversation I was a
listener. I sympathized with, and partly understood them, but I was
unformed in mind; I was dependent on none, and related to none. ‘The
path of my departure was free;’ and there was none to lament my
annihilation. My person was hideous, and my stature gigantic: what did
this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my
destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to
solve them. “The volume of _Plutarch’s Lives_ which I possessed, contained the
histories of the first founders of the ancient republics. This book had
a far different effect upon me from the _Sorrows of Werter_. I learned
from Werter’s imaginations despondency and gloom: but Plutarch taught me
high thoughts; he elevated me above the wretched sphere of my own
reflections, to admire and love the heroes of past ages. Many things I
read surpassed my understanding and experience. I had a very confused
knowledge of kingdoms, wide extents of country, mighty rivers, and
boundless seas. But I was perfectly unacquainted with towns, and large
assemblages of men. The cottage of my protectors had been the only
school in which I had studied human nature; but this book developed new
and mightier scenes of action. I read of men concerned in public affairs
governing or massacring their species.