Chapter 29

It happen'd, not long after this, there came to the Town a _French_ Gentleman, who was taken at the Siege of _Candia_, and was Fellow-Slave with _Henault_, for seven Years, in _Turky_, and who had escap'd with _Henault_, and came as far as _Liege_ with him, where, having some Business and Acquaintance with a Merchant, he stay'd some time; but when he parted with _Henault_, he ask'd him, Where he should find him in _Flanders_? _Henault_ gave him a Note, with his Name, and Place of Abode, if his Wife were alive; if not, to enquire at his Sister's, or his Father's. This _French_ Man came at last, to the very House of _Isabella_, enquiring for this Man, and receiv'd a strange Answer, and was laugh'd at; He found, that was the House, and that the Lady; and enquiring about the Town, and speaking of _Henault's_ Return, describing the Man, it was quickly discover'd, to be the same that was in the Sack: He had his Friend taken up (for he was buried) and found him the same, and, causing a _Barber_ to Trim him, when his bushy Beard was off, a great many People remember'd him; and the _French_ Man affirming, he went to his own Home, all _Isabella's_ Family, and her self, were cited before the Magistrate of Justice, where, as soon as she was accus'd, she confess'd the whole Matter of Fact, and, without any Disorder, deliver'd her self in the Hands of Justice, as the Murderess of two Husbands (both belov'd) in one Night: The whole World stood amaz'd at this; who knew her Life a Holy and Charitable Life, and how dearly and well she had liv'd with her Husbands, and every one bewail'd her Misfortune, and she alone was the only Person, that was not afflicted for her self; she was Try'd, and Condemn'd to lose her Head; which Sentence, she joyfully receiv'd, and said, Heaven, and her Judges, were too Merciful to her, and that her Sins had deserv'd much more.

While she was in Prison, she was always at Prayers, and very Chearful and Easie, distributing all she had amongst, and for the Use of, the Poor of the Town, especially to the Poor Widows; exhorting daily, the Young, and the Fair, that came perpetually to visit her, never to break a Vow: for that was first the Ruine of her, and she never since prosper'd, do whatever other good Deeds she could. When the day of Execution came, she appear'd on the Scaffold all in Mourning, but with a Meen so very Majestick and Charming, and a Face so surprizing Fair, where no Languishment or Fear appear'd, but all Chearful as a Bride, that she set all Hearts a flaming, even in that mortifying Minute of Preparation for Death: She made a Speech of half an Hour long, so Eloquent, so admirable a warning to the _Vow-Breakers_, that it was as amazing to hear her, as it was to behold her.

After she had done with the help of _Maria_, she put off her Mourning Vail, and, without any thing over her Face, she kneel'd down, and the Executioner, at one Blow, sever'd her Beautiful Head from her Delicate Body, being then in her Seven and Twentieth Year. She was generally Lamented, and Honourably Bury'd.

_FINIS._

NOTES: The History of the Nun.

p. 262 _The Dutchess of Mazarine._ Hortense Mancini, niece of the great Cardinal, was born at Rome in 1646. Her beauty and wit were such that Charles II (whilst in exile) and other princes of royal blood sought her hand. She married, however, 28 February, 1661, Armand-Charles de la Meilleraye, said to be 'the richest subject in Europe'. The union was unhappy, and in 1666 she demanded a judicial separation. Fearful, however, lest this should be refused, she fled from Paris 13 June, 1668, and, after several years of wandering, in 1675 came to London at the invitation of Charles II, who assigned her a pension. Her gallantries, her friendship with Saint-Evremond, her lavish patronage of the fine arts and literature are well known. She died at her Chelsea house in the summer of 1699. Her end is said to have been hastened by intemperance. Evelyn dubs her 'the famous beauty and errant lady.'

* * * * * * * * *

THE NUN: or, The Perjur'd Beauty.

A TRUE NOVEL.

Don _Henrique_ was a Person of great Birth, of a great Estate, of a Bravery equal to either, of a most generous Education, but of more Passion than Reason: He was besides of an opener and freer Temper than generally his Countrymen are (I mean, the _Spaniards_) and always engag'd in some Love-Intrigue or other.

One Night as he was retreating from one of those Engagements, Don _Sebastian_, whose Sister he had abus'd with a Promise of Marriage, set upon him at the Corner of a Street, in _Madrid_, and by the Help of three of his Friends, design'd to have dispatch'd him on a doubtful Embassy to the Almighty Monarch: But he receiv'd their first Instructions with better Address than they expected, and dismiss'd his Envoy first, killing one of Don _Sebastian's_ Friends. Which so enrag'd the injur'd Brother, that his Strength and Resolution seem'd to be redoubled, and so animated his two surviving Companions, that (doubtless) they had gain'd a dishonourable Victory, had not Don _Antonio_ accidentally come in to the Rescue; who after a short Dispute, kill'd one of the two who attack'd him only; whilst Don _Henrique_, with the greatest Difficulty, defended his Life, for some Moments, against _Sebastian_, whose Rage depriv'd him of Strength, and gave his Adversary the unwish'd Advantage of his seeming Death, tho' not without bequeathing some bloody Legacies to Don _Henrique_. _Antonio_ had receiv'd but one slight Wound in the left Arm, and his surviving Antagonist none; who however thought it not adviseable to begin a fresh Dispute against two, of whose Courage he had but too fatal a Proof, tho' one of 'em was sufficiently disabled. The Conquerors, on the other Side, politickly retreated, and quitting the Field to the Conquer'd, left the Living to bury the Dead, if he could, or thought convenient.

As they were marching off, Don _Antonio_, who all this while knew not whose Life he had so happily preserv'd, told his Companion in Arms, that he thought it indispensibly necessary that he should quarter with him that Night, for his further Preservation. To which he prudently consented, and went, with no little Uneasiness, to his Lodgings; where he surpriz'd _Antonio_ with the Sight of his dearest Friend. For they had certainly the nearest Sympathy in all their Thoughts, that ever made two brave Men unhappy: And, undoubtedly, nothing but Death, or more fatal Love, could have divided them. However, at present, they were united and secure.

In the mean time, Don _Sebastian's_ Friend was just going to call Help to carry off the Bodies, as the ---- came by; who seeing three Men lie dead, seiz'd the fourth; who as he was about to justify himself, by discovering one of the Authors of so much Blood-shed, was interrupted by a Groan from his supposed dead Friend Don _Sebastian_; whom, after a brief Account of some Part of the Matter, and the Knowledge of his Quality, they took up, and carried to his House; where, within a few Days, he was recovered past the Fear of Death. All this While _Henrique_ and _Antonio_ durst not appear, so much as by Night; nor could be found, tho' diligent and daily Search was made after the first; but upon Don _Sebastian's_ Recovery, the Search ceasing, they took the Advantage of the Night, and, in Disguise, retreated to _Seville_. 'Twas there they thought themselves most secure, where indeed they were in the greatest Danger; for tho' (haply) they might there have escap'd the murderous Attempt of Don _Sebastian_, and his Friends, yet they could not there avoid the malicious Influence of their Stars.

This City gave Birth to _Antonio_, and to the Cause of his greatest Misfortunes, as well as of his Death. Dona _Ardelia_ was born there, a Miracle of Beauty and Falshood. 'Twas more than a Year since Don _Antonio_ had first seen and loved her. For 'twas impossible any Man should do one without the other. He had had the unkind Opportunity of speaking and conveying a Billet to her at Church; and to his greater Misfortune, the next Time he found her there, he met with too Kind a Return both from her Eyes and from her Hand, which privately slipt a Paper into his; in which he found abundantly more than he expected, directing him in that, how he should proceed, in order to carry her off from her Father with the least Danger he could look for in such an Attempt; since it would have been vain and fruitless to have asked her of her Father, because their Families had been at Enmity for several Years; tho' _Antonio_ was as well descended as she, and had as ample a Fortune; nor was his Person, according to his Sex, any way inferior to her's; and certainly, the Beauties of his Mind were more excellent, especially if it be an Excellence to be constant.

He had made several Attempts to take Possession of her; but all prov'd ineffectual; however, he had the good Fortune not to be known, tho' once or twice he narrowly escap'd with Life, bearing off his Wounds with Difficulty.--(Alas, that the Wounds of Love should cause those of Hate!) Upon which she was strictly confin'd to one Room, whose only Window was towards the Garden, and that too was grated with Iron; and, once a Month, when she went to Church, she was constantly and carefully attended by her Father, and a Mother-in-Law, worse than a _Duegna_. Under this miserable Confinement _Antonio_ understood she still continued, at his Return to _Seville_, with Don _Henrique_, whom he acquainted with his invincible Passion for her; lamenting the Severity of her present Circumstances, that admitted of no Prospect of Relief; which caus'd a generous Concern in Don _Henrique_, both for the Sufferings of his Friend, and of the Lady. He proposed several Ways to Don _Antonio_, for the Release of the fair Prisoner; but none of them was thought practicable, or at least likely to succeed. But _Antonio_, who (you may believe) was then more nearly engag'd, bethought himself of an Expedient that would undoubtedly reward their Endeavours. 'Twas, that Don _Henrique_, who was very well acquainted with _Ardelia's_ Father, should make him a Visit, with Pretence of begging his Consent and Admission to make his Addresses to his Daughter; which, in all Probability, he could not refuse to Don _Henrique's_ Quality and Estate; and then this Freedom of Access to her would give him the Opportunity of delivering the Lady to his Friend. This was thought so reasonable, that the very next Day it was put in Practice; and with so good Success, that Don _Henrique_ was received by the Father of _Ardelia_ with the greatest and most respectful Ceremony imaginable: And when he made the Proposal to him of marrying his Daughter, it was embraced with a visible Satisfaction and Joy in the Air of his Face. This their first Conversation ended with all imaginable Content on both Sides; Don _Henrique_ being invited by the Father to Dinner the next Day, when Dona _Ardelia_ was to be present; who, at that Time, was said to be indispos'd, (as 'tis very probable she was, with so close an Imprisonment.) _Henrique_ returned to _Antonio_, and made him happy with the Account of his Reception; which could not but have terminated in the perfect Felicity of _Antonio_, had his Fate been just to the Merits of his Love. The Day and Hour came which brought _Henrique_, with a private Commission from his Friend, to _Ardelia_. He saw her;--(ah! would he had only seen her veil'd!) and, with the first Opportunity, gave her the Letter, which held so much Love, and so much Truth, as ought to have preserved him in the Empire of her Heart. It contained, besides, a Discovery of his whole Design upon her Father, for the compleating of their Happiness; which nothing then could obstruct but her self. But _Henrique_ had seen her; he had gaz'd, and swallowed all her Beauties at his Eyes. How greedily his Soul drank the strong Poison in! But yet his Honour and his Friendship were strong as ever, and bravely fought against the Usurper Love, and got a noble Victory; at least he thought and wish'd so. With this, and a short Answer to his Letter, _Henrique_ return'd to the longing _Antonio_; who, receiving the Paper with the greatest Devotion, and kissing it with the greatest Zeal, open'd and read these Words to himself:

_Don +Antonio+,_

_You have, at last, made Use of the best and only Expedient for my Enlargement; for which I thank you, since I know it is purely the Effect of your Love. Your Agent has a mighty Influence on my Father: And you may assure yourself, that as you have advis'd and desir'd me, he shall have no less on me, who am_

Your's entirely, And only your's, _ARDELIA_.

Having respectfully and tenderly kiss'd the Name, he could not chuse but shew the _Billet_ to his Friend; who reading that Part of it which concern'd himself, started and blush'd: Which _Antonio_ observing, was curious to know the Cause of it. _Henrique_ told him, That he was surpriz'd to find her express so little Love, after so long an Absence. To which his Friend reply'd for her, That, doubtless, she had not Time enough to attempt so great a Matter as a perfect Account of her Love; and added, that it was Confirmation enough to him of its Continuance, since she subscrib'd her self his entirely, and only his.--How blind is Love! Don _Henrique_ knew how to make it bear another Meaning; which, however, he had the Discretion to conceal. _Antonio_, who was as real in his Friendship, as constant in his Love, ask'd him what he thought of her Beauty? To which the other answer'd, that he thought it irresistable to any, but to a Soul preposses'd, and nobly fortify'd with a perfect Friendship:--Such as is thine, my _Henrique_, (added _Antonio_;) yet as sincere and perfect as that is, I know you must, nay, I know you do love her. As I ought to do, (reply'd _Henrique_.) Yes, yes, (return'd his Friend) it must be so; otherwise the Sympathy which unites our Souls would be wanting, and consequently our Friendship were in a State of Imperfection. How industriously you would argue me into a Crime, that would tear and destroy the Foundation of the strongest Ties of Truth and Honour! (said _Henrique_.) But (he continu'd) I hope within a few Days, to put it out of my Power to be guilty of so great a Sacrilege. I can't determine (said _Antonio_) if I knew that you lov'd one another, whether I could easier part with my Friend, or my Mistress. Tho' what you say, is highly generous, (reply'd _Henrique_) yet give me Leave to urge, that it looks like a Trial of Friendship, and argues you inclinable to Jealousy: But, pardon me, I know it to be sincerely meant by you; and must therefore own, that 'tis the best, because 'tis the noblest Way of securing both your Friend and Mistress. I need not make use of any Arts to secure me of either, (reply'd _Antonio_) but expect to enjoy 'em both in a little Time.

_Henrique_, who was a little uneasy with a Discourse of this Nature, diverted it, by reflecting on what had pass'd at _Madrid_, between them two and Don _Sebastian_ and his Friends; which caus'd _Antonio_ to bethink himself of the Danger to which he expos'd his Friend, by appearing daily, tho' in Disguise: For, doubtless, Don _Sebastian_ would pursue his Revenge to the utmost Extremity. These Thoughts put him upon desiring his Friend, for his own Sake, to hasten the Performance of his Attempt; and accordingly, each Day Don _Henrique_ brought _Antonio_ nearer the Hopes of Happiness, while he himself was hourly sinking into the lowest State of Misery. The last Night before the Day in which _Antonio_ expected to be bless'd in her Love, Don _Henrique_ had a long and fatal Conference with her about her Liberty. Being then with her alone in an Arbour of the Garden, which Privilege he had had for some Days; after a long Silence, and observing Don _Henrique_ in much Disorder, by the Motion of his Eyes, which were sometimes stedfastly fix'd on the Ground, then lifted up to her or Heaven, (for he could see nothing more beautiful on Earth) she made use of the Privilege of her Sex, and began the Discourse first, to this Effect:--Has any Thing happened, Sir, since our Retreat hither, to occasion that Disorder which is but too visible in your Face, and too dreadful in your continued Silence? Speak, I beseech you, Sir, and let me know if I have any Way unhappily contributed to it! No, Madam, (replyed he) my Friendship is now likely to be the only Cause of my greatest Misery; for To-morrow I must be guilty of an unpardonable Crime, in betraying the generous Confidence which your noble Father has plac'd in me: To-morrow (added he, with a piteous Sigh) I must deliver you into the Hands of one whom your Father hates even to Death, instead of doing myself the Honour of becoming his Son-in-law within a few Days more.--But--I will consider and remind myself, that I give you into the Hands of my Friend; of my Friend, that loves you better than his Life, which he has often expos'd for your Sake; and what is more than all, to my Friend, whom you love more than any Consideration on Earth.--And must this be done? (she ask'd.) Is it inevitable as Fate?--Fix'd as the Laws of Nature, Madam, (reply'd he) don't you find the Necessity of it, _Ardelia_? (continued he, by Way of Question:) Does not your Love require it? Think, you are going to your dear _Antonio_, who alone can merit you, and whom only you can love. Were your last Words true (returned she) I should yet be unhappy in the Displeasure of a dear and tender Father, and infinitely more, in being the Cause of your Infidelity to him: No, Don _Henrique_ (continued she) I could with greater Satisfaction return to my miserable Confinement, than by any Means disturb the Peace of your Mind, or occasion one Moment's Interruption of your Quiet.--Would to Heaven you did not, (sigh'd he to himself.) Then addressing his Words more distinctly to her, cry'd he, Ah, cruel! ah, unjust _Ardelia_! these Words belong to none but _Antonio_; why then would you endeavour to persuade me, that I do, or even can merit the Tenderness of such an Expression?--Have a Care! (pursued he) have a Care, _Ardelia_! your outward Beauties are too powerful to be resisted; even your Frowns have such a Sweetness that they attract the very Soul that is not strongly prepossessed with the noblest Friendship, and the highest Principles of Honour: Why then, alas! did you add such sweet and Charming Accents? Why--ah, Don _Henrique_! (she interrupted) why did you appear to me so charming in your Person, so great in your Friendship, and so illustrious in your Reputation? Why did my Father, ever since your first Visit, continually fill my Ears and Thoughts with noble Characters and glorious Ideas, which yet but imperfectly and faintly represent the inimitable Original!--But--(what is most severe and cruel) why, Don _Henrique_, why will you defeat my Father in his Ambition of your Alliance, and me of those glorious Hopes with which you had bless'd my Soul, by casting me away from you to _Antonio_!--Ha! (cry'd he, starting) what said you, Madam? What did _Ardelia_ say? That I had bless'd your Soul with Hopes! That I would cast you away to _Antonio_!--Can they who safely arrive in their wish'd-for Port, be said to be shipwreck'd? Or, can an abject indigent Wretch make a King?--These are more than Riddles, Madam; and I must not think to expound 'em. No, (said she) let it alone, Don _Henrique_; I'll ease you of that Trouble, and tell you plainly that I love you. Ah! (cry'd he) now all my Fears are come upon me!--How! (ask'd she) were you afraid I should love you? Is my Love so dreadful then? Yes, when misplac'd (reply'd he;) but 'twas your Falshood that I fear'd: Your Love was what I would have sought with the utmost Hazard of my Life, nay, even of my future Happiness, I fear, had you not been engag'd: strongly oblig'd to love elsewhere, both by your own Choice and Vows, as well as by his dangerous Services, and matchless Constancy. For which (said she) I do not hate him, tho' his Father kill'd my Uncle: Nay, perhaps (continu'd she) I have a Friendship for him, but no more. No more, said you, Madam? (cry'd he;)--but tell me, did you never love him? Indeed, I did, (reply'd she;) but the Sight of you has better instructed me, both in my Duty to my Father, and in causing my Passion for you, without whom I shall be eternally miserable. Ah, then pursue your honourable Proposal, and make my Father happy in my Marriage! It must not be (return'd Don _Henrique_) my Honour, my Friendship forbids it. No (she return'd) your Honour requires it; and if your Friendship opposes your Honour, it can have no sure and solid Foundation. Female Sophistry! (cry'd _Henrique_;) but you need no Art nor Artifice, _Ardelia_, to make me love you: Love you! (pursu'd he:) By that bright Sun, the Light and Heat of all the World, you are my only Light and Heat--Oh, Friendship! Sacred Friendship, now assist me!--[Here for a Time he paus'd, and then afresh proceeded thus,]--You told me, or my Ears deceiv'd me, that you lov'd me, _Ardelia_. I did, she reply'd; and that I do love you, is as true as that I told you so. 'Tis well;--But would it were not so! Did ever Man receive a Blessing thus?--Why, I could wish I did not love you, _Ardelia_! But that were impossible--At least unjust, (interrupted she.) Well then (he went on) to shew you that I do sincerely consult your particular Happiness, without any regard to my own, To-morrow I will give you to Don _Antonio_; and as a Proof of your Love to me, I expect your ready Consent to it. To let you see, Don _Henrique_, how perfectly and tenderly I love you, I will be sacrificed To-morrow to Don _Antonio_, and to your Quiet. Oh, strongest, dearest Obligation!--cry'd _Henrique_: To-morrow then, as I have told your Father, I am to bring you to see the dearest Friend I have on Earth, who dares not appear within this City for some unhappy Reasons, and therefore cannot be present at our Nuptials; for which Cause, I could not but think it my Duty to one so nearly related to my Soul, to make him happy in the Sight of my beautiful Choice, e'er yet she be my Bride. I hope (said she) my loving Obedience may merit your Compassion; and that at last, e'er the Fire is lighted that must consume the Offering, I mean the Marriage-Tapers (alluding to the old _Roman_ Ceremony) that you or some other pitying Angel, will snatch me from the Altar. Ah, no more, _Ardelia_! say no more (cry'd he) we must be cruel, to be just to our selves. [Here their Discourse ended, and they walked into the House, where they found the good old Gentleman and his Lady, with whom he stay'd till about an Hour after Supper, when he returned to his Friend with joyful News, but a sorrowful Heart.]