1

Memoirs of Signiora Di Morella.

Of all the noble Families in Rome,
there was none that cou’d boast
of having furnish’d the Council
with greater Statesmen, nor the
Army with more brave Commanders,
than that of Morella: Nor did the
Records make it appear that any of that Name
had ever forfeited their Honour in the Field,
or their Fidelity in the Cabinet. The extraordinary
Services done by some of them were so
well rewarded, that Don Jaquez de Morella,
the last Male Heir of that House, found himself
Master of immense Riches. He was married
to a Lady of great Beauty and Birth,
with whom he liv’d in a Felicity which was B only B1v 2
only imbitter’d by the Grief of having no
Issue. But at last, when both were arriv’d at
a pretty advanc’d Age, and began to be past
hope of Heirs, the Lady, contrary to all Expectation,
prov’d with Child, and in due
Time was deliver’d of a Daughter; to whom
the Pope being Godfather, she was called,
after him, Clementina.

It would be needless to repeat the Care that
was taken of her Education; the Reader will
easily believe, that nothing was wanting to embellish
the Mind of a young Girl, born to such
vast Possessions: Therefore I shall only say, that
she improv’d so well in all they attempted to
teach her, that she became the most accomplish’d
of her Sex. As to her Beauty, tho’
it was not of that dazling Sort which immediately
astonishes the Gazers Eyes, yet was it
such as it was impossible to see often without
being charm’d. There was an inexpressible
Sweetness in the whole Turn of her Features,
which stole insensibly into the Heart, and
gain’d the Conquest without seeming to attempt
it. In fine, she had those Attractions,
which, without being the sole Heiress of Don
Jaquez de Morella, might have made her the
Object of a thousand Hopes: But that powerful
Excitement being added to the others,
incredible were the Number of her Adorers.
Happy did they think themselves whose Birth,
Estate, and personal good Qualities, flatter’d
them with an Imagination Don Jaquez would
grant them his Permission to pay their Devoirs
at the Shrine of his lovely Daughter. And
scarce any there were, who had the least Pretensiontension B2r 3
to hope being receiv’d, that did not
attempt it.

The careful Father was not, however, very
hasty to dispose of her. Not the smallest of
her Perfections were conceal’d from him; and
’tis possible also that he looked on them with
magnifying Eyes. Tho’ many there were who
sollicited his Consent, of equal Birth and
Fortune; yet his Ambition made him still aim
at something greater: and as she was very
young, resolv’d to wait in Expectation of some
Offer which might raise her to the most elevated
Station, none being above what he
imagin’d she deserv’d and wou’d become. It
seem’d indeed as if, in refusing so many advantageous
Proposals made to her, he had been
endow’d with the Spirit of Prophecy. For
scarce was she arriv’d at her sixteenth Year,
when a certain Cardinal offer’d to throw aside
his Cap and Purple in Exchange for her Love;
so deeply was he enamour’d, that he liv’d not
but in the House of Don Jaquez. And tho’
he endeavour’d as much as possible to conceal
his Passion from the World, veiling his Admiration
of the Daughter under the Pretence of
Friendship for the Father; yet so little was he
able to command his Glances, when in the Presence
of the Charmer, or his Tongue from
speaking of her in Absence, that few there
were who knew him, without being also acquainted
with his Inclinations. But as there
are not many, even of those who profess
themselves the most absolutely devoted to
Love, who will in reality quit the Pursuit of
Ambition for it, it was more generally believ’d
that the Cardinal intended no more B2 than B2v 4
than a Gratification of his Desires with the
Spoil of this young Beauty’s Chastity, than
that he would forego his Dignities, and renounce
all the Honours of the Ecclesiastic
Robe to become her Husband. This Opinion
gain’d the more Ground, because he was
scarce ever from the House of Don Jaquez,
had all imaginable Privileges there; yet neither
himself, nor the old Gentleman, utter’d
the least Syllable, even to their greatest Intimates,
that there was any Design of Marriage
on Foot; nay, conceal’d as much as
possible that the Cardinal had any amorous
Inclinations for Clementina: all was disguis’d
under the Pretence of Friendship for Don Jaquez;
and whenever a Hint was given of the
Truth, all imaginable Care was taken to suppress
it.

The Reason of this was, that our young
Charmer, finding nothing either in the Person
of the Cardinal, or the Honour she might receive
by being his, which could make any
Impression in his Favour on her Heart, express’d
the utmost Aversion to his Addresses,
was scarce brought to treat him with that Civility
his Love and Rank required; and whenever
his Absence gave her an Opportunity, by
Tears and Prayers endeavour’d to divert her
Father from the Resolution he had taken, of
giving her to him. And that tender Parent,
unwilling to compel her Inclinations, still kept
the enamour’d Cardinal in Expectation of
kinder Treatment; while he, divided between
Hope and Fear, encourag’d by the former, left
no Means untried to forward his Suit; and deterred
by the latter, made no Confidents of his B3r 5
his Passion, left the ill Success of it shou’d subject
him to Ridicule. By this Means the Characters
both of Don Jaquez and his Daughter
were very much reflected on, and the Cardinal
suspected to be much happier than in
reality he was: Clementina was look’d on to
have yielded her Honour and Virtue a Prey
to the dishonourable Wishes of that great Man,
and her Father to have consented to it, to
gratify an avaricious View. Sincerity is a Virtue
so rare to be found, and so little encourag’d
when it is, that few People are willing
to reveal their Sentiments, when they know
they will be unpleasing, of whatever real Service
the discovering them would be to the Persons
concern’d in them. Though nothing was
more the general Whisper than the suppos’d
Intrigue between the Cardinal and Clementina,
yet none there were who wou’d take the Liberty
of uttering their Suggestions to either of
them; till Don Bellario, a passionate Devotee
to the Charms of Clementina, and who had
formerly flatter’d himself with having the first
Place in her Esteem, incens’d beyond Measure
at some late Treatment he had receiv’d
from her, she having, in Obedience to her
Father’s Commands, refus’d to admit his Visits,
could no longer refrain complaining of
the Severity of his Fate, and reproaching the
Change of her Behaviour, in a letter which
contained these Lines.

To B3v 6 “To the fair fallen Angel of her Sex, the
former lovely, but undone Clementina. How difficult is it to believe any Thing to
the Prejudice of the Person we love!―
How long did my fond Heart struggle, e’er it
would yield to think you less than Divine!―
With humble Resignation bore your cruel Scorn,
accusing my own Demerit only for the Severity of
my Fate:―‘He must be more than Man,’ cried
I, ‘who deserves Clementina.’―If I had any
Hopes, they were inspir’d but by my Opinion of
your Gratitude, which sometimes flatter’d me
with a Belief you would reward at last a Passion
as truly honourable as it was violent.―
But how, alas! was I deceiv’d?―How different
were the Addresses of my pure and virtuous
Flame from those which have the Power to
gain you! Good heaven! that it should be given
to empty Titles, and a sounding Name to gild
the blackest Crimes, and triumph over honest
Love!―In what, except his Dignity, does
this happy Cardinal merit more than the rejected
Bellario?―And, oh Clementina! too unjust
to yourself, as well as cruel to me, can you
think the Magnificence of his purple Robe a
sufficient Sanction for his Vices?―Will it
screen you from the Dishonour your fatal Yielding
draws upon you?―Can you hope to answer the
Breath of Virtue and of Modesty, because you are
guilty of it with a Member of the Sacred Conclave?
―Has Age so far debilitated the Reason
with the Strength of Don Jaquez, that he can B4r 7
can behold, unmov’d, the Ruin of his only Child;
and consent that Name, which for so many Ages has
been worn with Honour, should at last be stain’d
with Lust, and all the Glory of his fam’d Progenitors
lost in one shameful Act?―Amazement!
Cou’d this Proceeding be reconcil’d to
Reason or to Nature, my still fond doating
Heart would find out an Excuse―But there is
none―Nothing that can be said in Vindication
either of him or you―Were the Grandeur
of your noble House demean’d by Poverty, the
Interest and rich Presents of the Lord Cardinal
might be some little Mitigation of the Fault―
Were he of those Years which can in one of your’s
excite the tender Passion, he must not know the
Force of it, who would refuse his Pity for
whatever it might influence you to commit: But
neither of these Arguments plead in you Favour,
to stop the Censure of the judging World―
With what Agonies of Soul do I hear Clementina,
the once ador’d Clementina, subjected to
the scurril Mirth of every loose Companion,
the Scorn of the Fair, who before repin’d at her
superior Charms, and pity’d but by those who
admir’d them as I have done?―Long have
I espoused your Cause, long quarrell’d with my
Reason, and doubted my very Senses, when Witnesses
of your Dishonour. But, oh! I am at last
convinc’d―I find you are undone, and am
doubly wretched in the sad Discovery, since my
Soul and all its Faculties are still too much
your’s not to regret your Ruin infinitely more
than any Thing which can befal the Despairing Bellario.” I He B4v 8

He sent this Letter by a Servent of his
own, with a strict Charge to deliver it into
the Hands of Clementina. But Don Jaquez,
who happen’d to be in the Hall, and knew to whom he belong’d, not being pleased his
Daughter should continue any Correspondence
with his Master, by Threats compell’d him to
resign the Letter. Never was any Rage or
Amazement superior to his, when he had examin’d
the Contents: Conscious of no Ill, he
had not imagin’d himself suspected of any;
nor could he yet believe these Aspersions proceeded
from any other Source than the Malice
of a slighted Lover. Now did he wish there
were a Possibility to renew his former Youth and
Vigour, tho’ it were but for one Moment, that
he might make use of it in Vengeance on the
Boldness of Bellario. As he was in the Height
of his Indignation, two of his most intimate
Friends came to visit him. His Countenance
denoting the Disorders of his Mind, they demanded
if any thing had happen’d extraordinary,
to give him Cause of Disquiet. On
which he made no Scruple of communicating
the Contents of the Letter; exclaiming at the
same Time against the Insolence and Malice of
Bellario’s Aspersion, and hinting how greatly
he should think himself obliged to any Person
who should call that young Cavalier to account
for the Affront. But his Mouth was soon
stopp’d; instead of acquiescing with what he
said, both the Persons to whom he directed his
Discourse, told him, that they were not in the
least surpriz’d to find that a despairing and
discarded Lover should, in the Height of his
Resentment, disclose his Belief of what was not C1r 9
not only his, but the general Opinion of as
many as knew of the Cardinal’s Visits; and
with all the Freedom of a disinterested Friendship
proceeded to inform him of the Stain
which his Admiration had thrown on the Character
of Clementina, concealing nothing of the
Aspersions Report cast on her, and also on
himself, for his too great Indulgence in encouraging
an Intimacy which none believed had
an honourable Aim.

Don Jaquez, knowing his own and Daughter’s
Innocence, having little imagin’d any
such Scandal had been rais’d, could scarce contain
himself at hearing it. He vented a thousand
Curses on the first Inventer of so detestable
a Falsehood, and no longer conceal’d any Part
of what had pass’d between him and the Cardinal.
He assur’d his Friends, that he had
never consented his Daughter should receive
his Addresses, had he not offer’d to lay aside
his Purple, and forego all the Honours of the
Cap, the moment she yielded to be his Wife;
“which now,” said he, “she shall immediately do.
I have thus long waited her slow Result, and
endeavour’d only by mild Arguments to convince
her of the Honour and Advantage of
such a Match; but I will exert the Father, and
compel her to vindicate the Reputation of us
all―Within three Days shall their Marriage
be celebrated―I wish it, and the Cardinal
languishes for it, and she shall no longer find
Excuses for Delay.”

His Friends omitted nothing which might
engage him to persevere in this Resolution. And
they being departed, he went to the Chamber of
Clementina, and communicated to her not only 2 C the C1v 10
the Letter which Bellario had sent to her, but
also all that he had been told concerning the
unhappy Character they both labour’d under
on the Cardinal’s Account: and concluded his
Discourse with a positive Command, that she
should prepare herself with all possible Expedition
for the Celebration of Nuptials, which
alone could vindicate his and her own Honour
from the malicious Censures of the
World. The Tears she let fall before she
spoke, convinced him that there was nothing
in the World so dreadful to her as this Marriage;
but he was determin’d, and therefore,
to avoid the Sight of a Grief he could not remedy,
was about to leave the Room, without
giving her Time for Entreaties. But she, perceiving
his Intent, and in his settled Brow
reading her Doom, threw herself on her Knees
between him and the Door, and embracing
his Legs, by that Action prevented him from
leaving her, and demonstrated an Affliction
which was too great for Words. “Why,” resum’d
he in an angry Tone, tho’ his Heart bled
with inward Compassion, “why, thou perverse
One, dost thou treat me thus?―Is this
obstinate refusing what alone can make thee
happy, a fit Return for all my Cares and
fatherly Indulgence?―But think not,”
purs’d he, “that I am so weak as to be mov’d
by thy foolish Sorrow; or that thy Tears
can counter-ballance Honour, Interest, and
those solemn Promises I have made to the
Lord Cardinal.” “Oh, Signior,” answer’d
she (now, tho’ not before, the excessive Pressure
on her Spirits permitting her to discharge
some Part of it in Words) “I look on Death ‘as C2r 11
as a less Evil than Disobedience to your
Commands, and willingly would resign my
Breath, if that would satisfy those cruel
Pleas to which you listen.―Oh! what is
Interest, when compar’d to Peace of Mind?
What is Honour and Reputation, when, to
preserve them, we must sacrifice all the
Quiet of our Lives?―I cannot love the
Cardinal―I cannot be his without offending
Heaven, and prophaning those holy
Rites which claim the Heart as well as
Hand―Oh, how can I give the one,
when utter Detestation fills the other?―
It is not barely Want of Liking, ’tis Hatred,
’tis Loathing, ’tis Abhorrence fix’d
and rooted in my Soul, never to be remov’d
by Time, nor Services.” “Already then,”
said Don Jaquez, fiercely interrupting her,
“hast thou bestowed those Affections which
his Merits but vainly endeavours to inspire,
and, doubtless, on some Wretch unworthy
of thy Thoughts, or my Acceptance.―
But mark me well,” continued he, more angry;
“the Lord Cardinal or a Cloister is thy Doom.”
“The latter,” reply’d she, “I can submit to bear;
the other never.―Yet do not think the
Merits of any other Man have obscur’d in
my Eyes those of the Cardinal; for by all
my Hope of your Forgiveness, the first and
dearest Wish I have on Earth, I am as free
as Air from any Tincture of that Passion
which the World calls Love; nor have I yet
e’er seen the Man could charm me, though
many less my Aversion than him you recommend,
and in whose Affections I confess
myself much honour’d, tho’ made C2 ‘wretched. C2v 12
wretched.” Don Jaquez was about to
make some Reply to these Words, when he
was told the Cardinal was come to visit him;
on which he broke from his Daughter, and,
only bidding her, on Pain of his eternal Curse,
to receive him as her future Husband, flung
out of the Room with an Air which made her
know, that all farther Entreaties would be
fruitless to move him from his Purpose.

Never did a Heart more abandon itself to
Despair, than that of this unhappy Lady.―
In the Anguish of her Soul, she tore not only
her Hair and Garments, but her very Face.
And her Woman, who alone was Witness of
her Disorders, fearing she would commit some
Violence against her own Life, endeavour’d
all she could to pacify her, but in vain; the
stormy Passions rolling in her Mind, grew
stronger by Opposition: And the Girl, extremely
griev’d to see the sad Condition she was
in, advis’d her, if she could think of any other
Expedient than that unsuccessful one of attempting
to alter her Father’s Resolution, to
make Trial of it; and having been formerly
very frequently sollicited by Bellario to speak
in his Behalf, thought there cou’d not be a
more proper Time than this. And, after insinuating
how constant a Lover he had been,
and, withal, how accomplish’d and fine a Gentleman;
“Had it been in his Behalf,” added she,
“that Don Jaquez had appear’d so resolute to
oblige you to become a Wife, to have been
disobedient, had been to have been guilty of
a Crime without Excuse; and if you should
at last reward the firm Affection he has born
you, I cannot think your Conduct could be ‘justly C3r 13
justly blam’d.” “I have us’d Bellario ill,”
reply’d Clementina, “and he would not now,
perhaps, think it worth his while to attempt
any Thing to save me from this encroaching
Cardinal.” “Oh, fear not that,” resum’d
the other, “the Hope of gaining you, would,
I am certain, enable him to undertake the
greatest Enterprizes, dare the utmost Dangers,
and contrive the most surprizing Stratagems,
much more to forget such little
Slights as well who are Lovers must expect to
bear, and but endear Affection at the last.”
“Affection! didst thou say?” interrupted her
Mistress. “Alas! I know not what it means,
unless that sort which is natural among those
near to us by Blood or Friendship. Bellario
neither is, nor will be, ever regarded by
me with any more than that Complaisance
which is due to his Quality. As for his
Love, it always gave me rather Pain than
Pleasure. What can be more tiresom, than
an eternal Talk of what one is not capable
of apprehending?―For my Part, it only
moves my Mirth, when I see People fold
their arms, cast down their Eyes, and groan
as if seized with some mortal Disease, and
all for no more than mere Whimsy, or fancied
Ill, which I dare swear has no Existence
but in the Poet, or the Madman’s Brain.”
“Good God!” cried her Woman, “are you then
resolved never to marry?” “I know not
that,” said Clementina; “but I think I will
not, if so great a Misfortune can any Way
be avoided.” “Yet still,” resumed she, “you
would prefer Bellario to the Cardinal, if
you were allowed to chuse.” “Most certainly,‘tainly, C3v 14”
answer’d the Lady, “if I were to exchange
my Liberty for the Marriage-Bonds,
I should think it a less Misfortune to be
join’d with a Partner of suitable Years and
Humour. The austere Behaviour and Age
of the Cardinal may awe, but never charm
me.―I have within me something averse
to all Mankind in general, but in particular
to him; and sooner will I consent to wed my
Grave.” “Yet is there no avoiding it,”
said the Maid, “but making a speedy Choice
of some other; and who so fit as the agreeable,
the adoring, the constant Bellario.”
“I cannot think of it,” resum’d she. “But if
without that Bribe he would attempt somewhat
for my Deliverance from this approaching
Misfortune, I would endeavour to love
him.―Tho’,” cried she again after a little
Pause, “I will promise nothing.”

Some farther Conversation, to the same Effect
having past between them, Clementina
sat down at her Escritoire, and wrote in this
Manner:

“To the most Agreeable, but Unjust
Bellario. I Need not tell you, that your Letter fell into
my Father’s hands: I doubt not but the
Person who brought it has inform’d you to whom
he was compell’d to resign it. But as I believe
you are ignorant of the Misfortune your writing
has occasion’d me, cannot forbear letting you
know it.―So far am I from being guilty of the
Crime with which I am accus’d, that in refusing the C4r 15
the Lord Cardinal’s Love in the most honourable
Way, I have suffer’d more from my Father’s Indignation
than can be well express’d.―Unkind!
Ungenerous Bellario! Can you pretend to love
Clementina, and yet think so meanly of her?
Good God! a Prostitute! How ought I to hate
the Man that dares call me so!―How tenderly
revere and prize the noble-minded Lover,
who, to purchase me, gladly resigns Dignities
which Princes think it a Glory to obtain! Yet,
all ungrateful, thankless as I am, my stubborn
Heart denies Admittance to all Sentiments but
those of Aversion for his virtuous Flame.―
Not all his Languishments, his Vows, the Obedience
due to my Father’s Will, the Dangers
which must attend his Displeasure, nor the Admonitions
of my own Glory and Reputation, can
Good God! a Prostitute! How ought I to hate
prevail on me to become his Wife, and give the
Lye to the malicious Censures of the base judging
World.―The Grave is less terrible to me than
such a Bridal; yet must I soon be forced to
yield my unwilling Hand: Tears and Reluctance
no longer are of Service to obtain Delay.―
This, Bellario, has your cruel Reproaches
brought upon me.―Fatal Effect of rash Jealousy!
―The Mischief I have so long found
Excuses to avoid, your unlucky Behaviour has
hasten’d.―Perhaps this very Day I shall be
dragg’d to the Altar, compell’d for the Vindication
of that Honour you have so unjustly aspers’d,
to sacrifice my Soul’s eternal Peace.―Oh, how
severely have you reveng’d those little Slights I
was oblig’d to treat you with!―How have
you yourself contributed to take from me all Possibility
of ever being your’s!―Oh, think―
contrive, if yet I seem worthy of your Love, or of C4v 16
of your Cares, some Stratagem to break off, or
delay this hated Marriage.―Let us exchange
Forgiveness with each other: Pardon the unvoluntary
Rudeness of my forbidding your Visits,
and I no more will remember your Readiness in
believing me guilty of a Crime I blush to think
on.―Assure yourself that all I know of Love,
is in your Favour. Time, and your future Ser―
vices may improve the Regard I now have for
you, into that Passion you once so strenuously endeavour’d
to inspire. In the mean while save
me from the impending Danger, and hope every
Thing from the Gratitude of The Obliged Clementina di Morella.”

This, having seal’d, she thought no other
Person proper to entrust with, but her who
had persuaded her to write it; and accordingly
dispatch’d her on that Errand. But she
had no sooner left the Room, than Don Jaquez,
follow’d by the enamour’d Cardinal, enter’d.
Clementina, tho’ somewhat less disorder’d
than she had been, could not receive
that unwelcome Lover but with Eyes which
testify’d the extreme Regret she had to entertain
him. Which Don Jaquez presently perceiving;
“Since not all the Reluctance,” said
he, with a Look which demonstrated he was still
in the same Mind with which he had left her,
“which your foolish Bashfulness, or Affectation
of it, has made Lord Cardinal withdraw‘draw D1r 17
his Affection, I command you now to
receive it as your highest Happiness as well
as Honour.―Speak,” continued he, finding
she was silent, “are you determin’d on Obedience?”
“I have already said so much,”
answer’d she with a trembling Voice, “that there
is nothing more to add.―You know, Sir,
I am your’s, and must be dispos’d of as you
please.” “I do,” resum’d he; “but would
have her who boasts herself my Child, be so
much sensible of her Duty, as to know no
true Felicity can attend the Breach of it;
and also of my Indulgence, to confess I
would not command what was not her Interest
to obey.” She made no Reply to
these Words, either because the inward Emotions
of her Soul left her not the Power, or
because she could find nothing to say which
would not more inflame the Displeasure of her
Father. But he having left the Room, to give
the Lord Cardinal an opportunity of entertaining
her with his Passion, she threw herself
on a Couch which happen’d to stand near her;
and without any regard to that illustrious
Lover, began to give Vent to the Oppression
of her Heart, in Terms which made his ready
to burst―“Would to God,” cried she, “I could
this Moment be transform’d into something
which might rather terrify than excite Desire.
―Beauty, to all others of my Sex a
Blessing, is to me a Curse; because it sacrifices
me to loath’d Embraces, and the Man I
hate.―Cruel Don Jaquez! most inhuman,
whilst thou boasts of thy Indulgence!
No sooner am I arriv’d at Years to taste the
Joys of Life, and know my own Happiness, D ‘but D1v 18
but thou compellest me to renounce it,
and bury all my Hopes, at once, in these
detested Nuptials.” In this manner did she
run on for a considerable Time, the Cardinal,
by his Surprize and Grief, being render’d incapable
of interrupting her. But recovering
himself at last, he drew nearer to her, and
with a Voice which express’d the utmost Despair,
― “Am I so hateful to you then,
Madam?” cried he. “Has all my constant
Love and Services, and the Preference I
give to be your Slave, to the greatest Dignities
this World can bestow, deserv’d your
Detestation?” “Love is not in our Power,”
answer’d she fiercely; “nor can I think my
self oblig’d for the Effects of a Passion
which is unvoluntary.―If you wish
me to be your’s, ’tis to gratify yourself
alone: For had you the least Regard for
me as a Mistress, or Compassion for me as a
Wretch, you would not make use of my Father’s
Power to undo me.” “Unjust and
barbarous Clementina!” resum’d he; “Can you
reproach me with the Want of that Respect,
the Excess of which has made me so long
linger in the Pangs of Uncertainty?―
Have I not with the most humble Submission
waited my Doom, endur’d your cruel
Scorn without complaining, still hoping, by
Assiduity and Constancy, to move you to a
more just Sense of what was owing to a
Flame like mine?”―“And even now, impatient,
distracted as I am to call you mine,
is it to my Importunities, or your Father’s
Desires, you must so speedily be made so?
―Still would I yield to languish in Suspence.‘pence. D2r 19
―Still attend, alas! your slow Result.
But ’tis Don Jaquez who thinks himself
enough convinc’d how much I merit
to be his Son, and will have me give all
future Proofs of my Affection in the Name
of Husband.―Should I not take the Advantage
he has offer’d, justly might you and
him suspect the Warmth of my Desires.”
“Well does your Sex,” said she, “know how to
dress the worst of Meanings in the best of
Shapes.―A thousand thousand Times you
have heard me declare, I never could be
brought to love you with that Sort of Tenderness
which alone can render the MarriageYoke
supportable.―That I could never
think, that one Day I might be compell’d to
become your Wife, without a Shock which
was very near depriving me of my Senses.
―Yet you, out of abundant Love, and
disinterested Affection, will make me so,
tho’ sure that Tears and Sighs, wild Grief,
and every Testimony of Despair, will be
the only Rapture of the Bridal Bed.”

She spoke these Words with an Air of
Contempt, which let him know more fully
than he had ever done before, that he was indeed
the Object of her utmost Detestation;
and in spight of the Passion he had for her,
rous’d a Pride which would not permit him to
be treated in this manner, without shewing
some Resentment. “Well, Madam,” answer’d
he, “if in rendring myself in a Condition to
become your Husband, I do not give ample
Proof that my Affection is disinterested, I
despair of ever convincing you that it is so.
―I will therefore leave you to reflect on D2 ‘what D2v 20
what I have done, and what I have suffer’d;
and judge yourself, all partial as you
are, if I deserve your Hate.” He concluded
these Words with a deep Sigh; and
after making a low Reverence, went out of
the Room.

Clementina, having now a little Leisure for
Meditation, could not indeed forbear accusing
herself of the utmost Ingratitude: But as she
was of a Disposition which made her impatient
of Controul, and violently addicted to follow
her own Will, to whatsoever it should incline
her; she felt not much Remorse at being unable
to reward his Passion; and still resolutely
bent never to marry him, if by any Means
she could avoid it, was rather pleas’d than the
contrary, that, in the ungovernable Agitations
of her Mind, she had discover’d her
Hate in a more plain Manner than before she
had ever dar’d to do. She sometimes flatter’d
herself with the Hope, that her declar’d Aversion
would abate the Fervour of his Love, or
at least make him asham’d to press the Gratification
of it; and concluded within herself,
that neither Persuasions nor Threatnings should
oblige her to recall what she had said, or extort
one Word that should look like a Consenting.
But she had not any long Time to
reflect on these Things; her Confident return’d,
and gave a sudden Turn to her
Thoughts, by presenting her with a Letter
from Bellario, in Answer to that she had been
the Bearer of: The Contents whereof were as
follow:

To D3r 21 “To the ever Lovely and most Adorable
Clementina. To be assur’d from your Divine Words
(more sacred to me than all the Oracles
of Antiquity were to their Worshippers) that you
are not only innocent of the Crime with which
you have been charg’d; but that also the Man
with whom you are suspected of the most faulty
Liberties, is so much the Object of your Aversion,
that you would chuse almost rather to die,
than accept of his Devoirs in the most honourable
way; is such a Blessing, that nothing but the
Knowledge you had done so for Bellario could
surpass. Oh! were I allow’d to hope I should
not in the same Circumstances meet with the
same return, how infinite would be my Transport!
―But, charming Insensible! you yet
seem born only to create Love, not feel the
Effects of it yourself.―You command me, indeed,
to invent some Stratagem which may deprive
the Lord Cardinal of his expected Felicity:
But, alas! you promise not you will bestow
on me what you refuse to him.―I may,
perhaps, still languish in Suspence, and at last
see your Heaven of Love shower’d on some happier
Man, who, in spight of all I have done or
suffer’d, shall triumph o’er my Pains, and reap
the envy’d Purchase of my Sufferings.―But why,
unhappy that I am! why do I seem to hesitate?
Why raise Scruples foreign to the present Situation
of both our Affairs?―You fear to be constrain’d
to unwish’d Nuptials; and ’tis my Duty,
and my Interest too, to deliver you from so great D3v 22
great an Evil to yourself, and irreparable Misfortune
to me; but how, Oh how shall I find out
the Means?―I know of none but daring this
haughty happy Rival to the Field, and compelling
him to resign his Pretensions or his Life.
―At present his Robes excuse him from answering
the Demand; but they thrown off, what
qualifies him for a Husband, obliges him also to
defend the Justice of his Plea.―And be assur’d
that he no sooner shall proclaim his Renunciation
of the sacred Privilege, than I shall call him to
exact Account for all the Pangs he has occasion’d
The Despairing,
But ever most Faithful,
And zealously Devoted,
And Adoring, Bellario.”

She had scarce Time to examine the Contents
of this Letter, and put it into her Pocket, before
her Father came into the Room, with a
Countenance so inflam’d with Wrath, that it
was easy for her to guess the Cardinal had complain’d
to him of her late Treatment.

’Tis certain, that nothing could be more
enrag’d than Don Jaquez. He had met the
Cardinal as he was coming from her Chamber,
and without giving himself Time to observe
the Chagrin which was visible enough in his
Face, said, “I hope, my Lord, Clementina ‘is D4r 23
is at last convinc’d of what is owing from
her to your Love and my Commands.”
“No, my Lord,” replied he: “But I am so, that
all farther Importunities will be vain; and
must have so much Regard to my own Character,
and the Affection I have vow’d shall
be eternal to your Daughter, as not to prosecute
an Endeavour she declares will never
have any other Effect than to be the Trouble
of her Repose.―I will therefore no
more persecute her with my unwelcome Addresses,
nor, till she is pleas’d to think more
justly of my Love, presume to intrude on
her other more agreeable Meditations.”
Surprized to be told she had dar’d so far to
disobey his Commands, so much engross’d the
Soul of Don Jaquez, that it prevented him
from making an immediate Answer. And the
other, ready to burst with inward Spight and
Grief, desir’d not to continue the Conversation;
but flung out of the House, that he might
with the more Convenience give a Loose to the
Disorders with which he was overwhelm’d.

But those first Emotions which rose in the
Mind of Don Jaquez in a short time, giving
way to those of Indignation, he ran to the Apartment
of his Daughter, and reproach’d her,
or the Disappointment of his Hopes, in Terms
which not all the Resolution she had shewn,
not all the natural Obstinacy of her Temper,
nor the Knowledge she had of his perfect Indulgence
to her, could enable her to support,
without a Shock which laid her fainting at his
Feet. When recover’d, she had Recourse to
Tears and Prayers, to mitigate his Rage; but
all she could say was ineffectual. He swore never D4v 24
never to bestow on her his Blessing, nor any
Mark of former paternal Love, till she should
confess the Folly of her Conduct, and recal
the Cardinal. To the first of these Articles
she willingly consented: She acknowledg’d the
Advantage of such a Match, avow’d the utmost
Sensibility of the Cardinal’s disinterested
Affection, and own’d herself ungrateful and
unjust; but then withal protested it was not
in her Power to avoid being so, and still persever’d
in assuring him, that Death itself
wou’d be a less Evil to her, than such a Marriage.
Scarce could he refrain from more
than Threatnings, so greatly was he incens’d:
But after having utter’d the most bitter Curses
on her Disobedience, he left her on the Floor
half-drown’d in Tears, and terrify’d beyond
Expression with the Apprehensions of what
might be the Effects of his Displeasure.

Those violent Agitations, however, by Degrees
abating, through the Persuasions of her
Woman, and the Remembrance how on many
Occasions she had experienc’d the Tenderness
of her Father to her, she grew pretty well satisfy’d
that she had acted in the Manner she
had done.―She had by this Means got rid
of the Cardinal’s Sollicitations, and she doubted
not but that she should in a short Time be reconcil’d
to her Father. She was also pleas’d
that she ow’d her Deliverance to herself, and
not to any Endeavours of Bellario, which
would have laid her under an Obligation to
him, which she had neither the Power nor
the Inclination to requite.

In this Position of Mind let us leave her for
a Time, and return to Don Jaquez, than I whom E1r 25
whom scarce ever any suffer’d more from his
natural Impatience of Disappointments, and
the Want of Duty in a Child that from her
Birth had been so dear to him. It must indeed
be confess’d, that the Scandal which lay
on him concerning the Cardinal and which
cou’d no way be remov’d but by his Marriage
with Clementina, was sufficient to have disturb’d
a Mind less avaricious than was his.
He knew not what to do in this Perplexity:
Not all the Tears and Grief of his beloved
Daughter would have been able to have mov’d
him from his Purpose; he would himself have
dragg’d her to the Altar, and compell’d her to
have assisted in the Ceremony, but she had
now found the Way to oblige the Cardinal to
decline, and over him he had no Power, nor
wou’d submit to entreat he would renew his
Pretensions.―This breaking off between
them, after such an Intimacy, he thought
would more confirm what had been said, and
be look’d on rather as the Effect of the Cardinal’s
Satiety, than the obstinate Refusal of
Clementina. He remain’d for some Days in
the utmost Inquietudes, which rather increase
than diminish, by hearing nothing from that
once passionate Lover, and Clementina’s still
persisting in her refusing to make any Efforts
to recal him. As a Punishment for the
latter, he took a Resolution to send her to a
Monastery, than which he thought nothing
would be more terrible to a young Maid of
her Vivacity and Gaiety. But before he did
so, he came into her Chamber, and obliging
her to deliver him the Key of her Cabinet; it
still running in his Head that she had not conceiv’dE ceiv’d E1v 26
so violent an Aversion to the Cardinal,
but for the sake of a more young and agreeable
Object; he there found the last Letter she
had receiv’d from Bellario. This gave him a
Mixture of Pain and Pleasure; for while it
added to his Indignation, that she had continued
a Correspondence with that Gentleman,
after his express Commands to the contrary,
and the Reflections had been cast upon her by
him; yet was he extremely glad of this Testimony
from his own Hand, that he no longer
believ’d her guilty of deserving them, and
that the Cardinal’s Addresses were on the
most honourable Terms. He kept the Letter,
therefore; and having shew’d it to as many
as he was acquainted with, order’d Copies of
it to be dispers’d throughout the whole City,
not in the least regarding in what Manner either
the Cardinal or Bellario might resent such
a Proceeding.

The Cloister in which Clementina was for
some Time destin’d to bewail her Disobedience,
was that of the Augustines at Viterbo, the Lady
Abbess of which was accounted to have a
more than ordinary Care of those committed
to her Charge. And tho’ the Freedom of that
Order admitted many Liberties deny’d to those
of the Pourclairs, Franciscans, and several
others; yet was she so extremely cautious,
that no Men, of what Rank or Quality soever,
were permitted to hold any Conversation
with the Nuns, except they could prove
themselves nearly related to them, or brought
some Commission from their Parents, which
might authorize their Visits. How great a
Confinement this was for a young Lady naturallyturally E2r 27
fond of being seen and admir’d, let the
Belles who fill the Circle judge. Clementina
was for some Time inconsolable; to change
her downy Palate for a coarse hempen Mattress;
to forsake her Rest, and rife at Midnight
when the melancholy Bell call’d the
lazy Devotees to Devotion; to change gay
Serenades, and the melting Notes of amorous
Sonnets, for solemn Anthems, and the softening
Lute for the grave Organ; instead of a
Train of admiring Youths crowding where’er
she pass’d, no Company but those of her own
Sex, who by their Vow were bound to forbear
all Speech of Man and Love: This I say was
so cruel a Reverse, that at her first submitting
to the Monastick Laws, she look’d on herself
as buried. The austere Countenances of those
she was among, forbad her to hope there was
any of them whom she could have any Conversation
with in a Manner befitting her Age
and Humour. Tho’ many there were who
exceeded not herself in Years, yet had Custom
and the Severity of those Rules to which they
were oblig’d to live, imprinted an Air of Gravity
on their Faces, which seem’d to forbid all
Freedoms to be taken with them. An Accident,
however, happening to convince Clementina
that they were not all such as they appear’d,
at once surpriz’d and gave her an infinite
Satisfaction.

There was in this Monastery, as in most
others, several Ladies, who being lately enter’d,
were on their Probation. Among that
Number was Signiora Miramene de los Veronvill,
Daughter to the Count of that Name.
She was young, beautiful, and witty to Excess;E2 cess E2v 28
and tho’ the Place and Company she was
in oblig’d her to keep that latter talent conceal’d,
yet did it not, while it obscur’d, diminish
any Part of the Brightness of her Genius.
From this Lady did Clementina, as they were
coming from Prayers, see a Paper fall, which
by taking out her Handkerchief was flirted
out. She took it up without being perceiv’d
by any other Person, and opening it the first
Opportunity, found it contain’d some Verses,
which I have taken the Liberty to translate,
as near as the extraordinary Difference there
is between the Italian and our Language will
bear.

“On the Extensiveness of Thought To my Dear Glencairn. How I despise the Wretch with Grief depress’d!
Since all, who will, may in themselves be bless’d. What adverse Fortune to out Wish denies, Extensive Thought abundantly supplies. Tho’ shut from every joy which Sense can know, Immur’d to linger out a Life of Woe; No Bars, nor Bolts, prescribe the active Mind, Thro’ all I pass, and leave my Clay behind. With E3r 29 With thee, Glencairn! eternally I dwell, While but my Figure fills the silent Cell: With thee I fit all Day, hold sweet Converse, And o’er and o’er our Love’s sad Tale rehearse; Taste all the joys rewarded Passion knows, And give and take Ten thousand tender Vows. What cannot Thought invent!―Sometimes
I rove, In search of Glencairn, thro’ the shady Grove; When found, upbraid thy Wandring, and take
Pride To hear thy little Absence justify’d! Love in Security but faintly burns, But after Doubts and Fears more brights returns. That our’s may, therefore, never know Decline, Thy Truth I question, and thou injur’st mine; Then both Forgiveness ask, and both obtain, And soft Endearments compensate past Pain. Thus, while in Languishments dissolv’d, my Mind Is to Love’s secret Joys alone inclin’d; But E3v 30 But when Remembrance to my Soul explains, The envy’d Triumphs of Britannia’s Plains; Born on the Wings of Thought I thither dart, Nor leave behind the Treasure of my Heart. In those bless’d Isles where Liberty presides, And native Virtue vain Restraint derides, With my lov’d Glencairn in the Circle sit, Admire the Shows, and praise the Inventor’s Wit, Pity the enamour’d Nymphs, who die to see Thy Eyes, regardful, always fix’d on me, Watching my Smiles, while all their Arts are
vain, One single hope-inspiring Glance t’obtain. Vast Bliss! when thus I in Idea prove Thy faithful Heart no Charms have Power to
move, Or tempt thy Vows to any second Love. But why on single Blessings do I dwell? The World is mine within this lonely Cell; Thought E4r 31 Thought makes me all I ever wish’d to be, Gives Wealth, Fame, Honour, and, what’s
dearer, Thee.”

Clementina had no sooner perus’d these
Verses, which she doubted not but were compos’d
by Miramene, than she assur’d herself
she had now found Companion, such as would
be pleasing to her. She long’d till she had
an Opportunity of letting her know the Discovery
she had made; and the Zeal with which
she sought such a one, soon made her find it
in as favourable a Manner as she could have
hop’d. That Lady had retired herself from
the other Nuns and Probationers, in the Hour
allow’d them for walking, to the Side of a
Fountain, where she threw herself on the
Grass, no question to indulge that Thought
she had describ’d. Clementina observ’d her at
a Distance, and making what Haste she could
towards her, as soon as she came near enough
to be heard by her, without at the same Time
having any other Witnesses of her Words;
“How infinitely happy are you, Miramene,”
said she, “and how greatly would you have
oblig’d me, tho’ without designing to do so,
were it in my Power to follow the Methods
you take!” “What mean you?” cry’d the
other in a Surprize. “That if I were Mistress
of the same Delicacy you are,” answer’d
she, “I could find Ways to make this
odious Confinement more agreeable. But not
to keep you in Suspence,” continued she, presenting‘senting E4v 32
her with the Verses, “I saw this Paper
fall from your Pocket, and tho’ I confess my
Curiosity got so much the better of my Good-
Manners, as to oblige me to read it before I
return’d it, yet I assure you it has been seen by
no other Eyes than my own; and I account
it my good Fortune to have this Opportunity
of proving myself in some measure worthy
the Confidence of Miramene, by her own
Inclinations, as well as to what I am indebted
to Chance for.” “I must confess,”
replied Miramene, “the Loss of this Paper
has given me some Disquiet: It might, indeed,
have fallen into Hands much less generous
than your’s; and I am infinitely oblig’d
to you for keeping that a Secret, which,
in a Place like this, you might be certain
was design’d to remain so.” “’Tis true,”
resum’d the other, smiling; “therefore I would
not have you think I was wholly disinterested
in what I did. I expect no less a Reward
than a full Relation of those Adventures
which have brought you here, and reduc’d
you to have recourse to those unsubstantial
Blessings which Thought affords: For tho’
you have describ’d Idea in a Manner too
charming not to make one extremely in love
with it, yet I cannot forbear thinking Fortune
very unjust, to allow you nothing
more.” Miramene return’d this little Compliment
in Words altogether obliging, and
suitable to the Occasion. But the other repeating
her Desires of being farther inform’d
of her Affairs, and making many Protestations
of an eternal Fidelity, she prepar’d herself
to do as she was desir’d, and began in these or
the like Terms.

The F1r 33

Here Miramene ended her Narration, and
Clementina paid her many Compliments on
the Generosity of her Temper, in her Readiness
to depend on the Man she lov’d, and that
uncommon Magnanimity of Mind in making
herself easy in a Condition which would render
most Women extremely wretched. They
had, perhaps, continu’d much longer in this
Conversation, if the Chapel-Bell had not summon’d
them to Vespers. They had no farther
Discourse in private that Night; but our Clementina
was extremely pleas’d that she had
found a Companion so agreeable: for tho’
yet she had no Notion what it was to love, she thought I3r 61
thought the Talk of it delightful; she now
even wish’d for Bellario, and grew angry that
he did not attempt something to see her.
Young Virgins, long before they experience
the Passion in reality, are animated by Desires
that look somewhat like it; they are charm’d
with being belov’d, and take as much Pains to
attract a Number of Admirers, as she who
doats on one, does to secure the Conquest she
has gain’d.

The tender Things which she heard from
Miramene, whenever they were alone, very
much help’d to soften her Heart: She began
to fancy there were Pleasures in Love which
she had not been able to comprehend, and
wish’d that Fortune might send some Object in
her Way, which might inform her. Alas!
she little thought how near she was to what she
desir’d, and how great a Curse the Accomplishment
of it would prove to her.

Day by Day, as Miramene receiv’d a Letter
from her belov’d Baron, did she communicate
the Contents of it to her new Friend. The
extravagant Professions of Passion, and the
soft Vows of inviolable Constancy, which every
one of them was full of, made her ready to
burst with inward Spight and Envy. “Am I
less lovely,” said she to herself, “than Miramene?
that neither Bellario, or any others of those
who call’d themselves my Admirers, attempt
any Thing to free me from this Place? or is
Constancy and Sincerity confined to the Scotch
Baron alone?—Tho’ hopeless of obtaining,
still he loves on; and rather than forsake the
Object of his Passion, contents himself with
the Possession of her Mind: Nay, for that airy I3v 62
airy unsubstantial Blessing, defies all Dangers,
has recourse to all Kinds of Stratagems, and
quits all other Pleasures.—Oh, how happy
should I think myself to be thus belov’d!—
Nor would I be less grateful than this so much
ador’d Miramene; I would be much more so.
’Tis not these Walls, nor Bolts, nor Bars, nor
watchful Spies, should keep me from a Lover,
such as Glencairn: Through all Restraint I’d
break, to fly to his Embraces, and prove
myself worthy of his Love.—Miramene,
they say, has Wit; but this dull Insensibility,
this tame Yielding to her Fate, and poorly
contenting herself with an ideal Happiness, is
a Proof, methinks, neither of Wit, nor Spirit,
nor Resolution.—And makes me believe
Glencairn cannot be a Man of that Vivacity
she describes, to love a Creature so stupid, so
incapable of doing any Thing to reward his
Passion, or attain the Accomplishment of her
own Wishes.”

In this Manner did she reflect, languishing
in the Want of a Lover, as much, or more
perhaps, than Miramene did in the Impossibility
of being happy with her’s. But the
charming Descriptions which that Lady was
continually making of his Constancy, his Tenderness,
and the Ardency of his Affection,
fir’d the other with the utmost Curiosity to see
him. And being of a Disposition too resolute
not to compass any Thing she once took in
her Head to desire, if it came within the
Reach of Possibility, she soon found out the
Means of obliging herself, and at the same
Time seem’d to confer the highest Favour on
Miramene.

One I4r 63

One Day, as they were sitting together,
“Methinks, dear Miramene,” said she, “this
Way of receiving Letters, and returning
Answers to them by the Hands of a Mendicant,
is not a Contrivance worthy of such
Love as yours; and if I am not too vain on
the Merits of my own Invention, I have
found out the Means not only of favouring
your Correspondence with greater Security,
but also such as affords a Probability of your
seeing each other.” Scarce had Clementina
finish’d these Words, than her transported
Friend cried out to her to explain herself.
“That I can easily do,” resum’d she; “and I
much wonder, that since our Intimacy you
never thought of it yourself. But not to
keep you in Suspence,” continued she, “when
next you write, I would advise you to make
use of my Name, let him know the Friendship
that is between us, and permit him to
come to the Grate without any Disguise, and
boldly inquire for me, by whom he may
safely trust not only his Epistles, but also the
most secret Wishes of his Soul by Word of
Mouth. And because the Strictness of our
Abbess forbids any of us to go without a
Witness to the Grate, you have a Chance for
being my Companion in receiving his Visit.”
“Alas!” said Miramene, with an Air much less
elated than it had been a Minute before, “is this
your Project! Have you never heard, that
the Strictness of our Order is such in this
Monastery, that no Man is suffer’d to converse
with us at the Grate, without they
bring Credentials from our Parents, or those ‘Persons I4v 64
Persons who intrusted us to the Management
of this over-cautious Abbess? Glencairn,
for this Reason, would find it as great
a Difficulty to obtain the Speech of Clementina,
or any other here confin’d, as of Miramene
herself.” “Your Impatience,” resum’d
Clementina, “prevented me from telling
you the whole of my Design. I am perfectly
acquainted with the Rules of this
Place, and am provided with a Stratagem to
baffle them. You shall inclose in your next
to the Baron a Letter of the Count de Morello
to me; ’tis easy for him to counterfeit
the Character: which having done, he shall
write in my Father’s Name to the Abbess,
desiring she will admit the Person who delivers
her that Letter, to the Presence of
his Daughter, having Business of the utmost
Consequence to impart to me. This,” continu’d
she, “I think cannot fail of the desir’d
Success, if your Lover, to the rest of his
Perfections, has but Ingenuity enough to
imitate my Father’s Hand in such a Manner
as may deceive the Abbess, she being perfectly
acquainted with it.”

Miramene now recover’d her Colour, and,
convinc’d of the Probability of the Undertaking,
made Clementina more Retributions
than her Stratagem deserv’d, even tho’ it
had been inspir’d merely by the Friendship she
profess’d for her; and the next Morning, pursuant
to her Advice, sent a Letter which Clementina
gave her, of the Count’s her Father,
with Directions what Terms the Counterfeit
of it should contain.

The K1r 65

The enamour’d Baron made no Scruple of
obeying the Orders he receiv’d, and in a few
Days perform’d his Task with so much Exactness,
that a more penetrating Eye than that
of the Abbess might have been deceiv’d by the
Likeness of the two Characters. She immediately
call’d for Clementina, and herself being
in Presence, there requir’d no other Witness
at this Time; believing also that the Commands
he had for her might be improper to be
deliver’d in the hearing of any but herself,
she withdrew to a convenient Distance. Tho’
Clementina had not the least Thought of depriving
Miramene of the Affections of her
Lover, yet she had Vanity enough to wish he
might think her as handsome; and to that End
had taken more Pains that Day to render her
self amiable, than was consistent with the
Rules of a Convent. He made her a thousand
Compliments on the Sweetness of her Disposition,
so evidently demonstrated in her Readiness
to oblige her Friend, and on her Wit,
which had inspir’d her with a Stratagem which
neither of them, tho’ animated by Love, had
the Skill to form. Nor among the Encomiums
he made her, did he omit those her
Beauty merited: He said all to her on that
Head which could be expected from a Man
who declar’d himself devoted to another. He
slipt into her Hand a Letter directed for Miramene,
and let her know, that he would attend
her the next Day at the Grate. She told
him would do her Endeavour to bring that
Lady there, if possible; “But if I am not yet
so fortunate, I hope the Discourse of an absentK sent K1v 66
Mistress may render the Conversation of
her Friend not altogether disagreeable.” As
the Italians themselves exceed not the Scots
(who at all pretend to Politeness) in good
Manners and Complaisance, ’tis not to be
doubted but that he made her Answer
full of Gallantry, and the extremest Respect.

A long Visit not being agreeable to the
Reserve of the Place they were in, he took
his Leave; and in doing so, told the Abbess
that he had Orders from the Count de Morella
to pay his Devoirs to Signiora Clementina
every Day while he continu’d at Viterbo.
And the good Lady assur’d him, that, on the
Credentials he had brought, he should never
be unwelcome.

But little did he imagine what Effect his
Presence had caus’d. He was indeed too lovely,
not to appear so to a Woman of Clementina’s
Penetration.―She thought she had
never seen any Thing so charming, so perfect,
in her Life.―She was quite beside her
self, to think how happy Miramene was in
such a Lover.―From her Friend, she
all at once became her Enemy; she envy’d,
she hated her, for the Possession of his Heart,
and would have given almost an Eye to have
made a Change in his Sentiments.―“How
dear,” cry’d she, “has my fatal Curiosity cost
me!―What had I to do to examine into
the Merits of Miramene’s Lover?―She
told me he was all Perfection, I might have
believ’d her, without giving myself so fatal
an Assurance.”

Thus 2 K2r 67

Thus was a Heart which had withstood all
the Temptations of Wealth and Grandeur,
and the most tender Sollicitations of half
the Youth of Rome, in a Moment won by a
Stranger, and one who declar’d himself inviolably
the Slave of another. Perhaps, indeed,
the Difficulty, or rather the Impossibility there
appear’d of gaining him, help’d to increase
the Admiration she had of him. Bellario
was a Man generally accounted handsome,
well-bred, and had every Accomplishment
which befits a Man of Quality. Many there
were beside him, who might boast an Air as
agreeable, a Form as compleat as that of the
Scotch Baron’s. The Cardinal, though somewhat
advanc’d in Years, was the most graceful
Person of his Time, and had some Advantages
which few others were Masters of.
But these were all her most passionate Adorers
―These no sooner had seen her,
than they became enamour’d of her―
They immediately declar’d their Languishments,
and gave her not the Time to wish.
―’Tis certain, that Vanity, the Desire
of surmounting so many Obstacles, and triumphing
over a Rival long belov’d, had a very great
Share in inspiring her with so violent a Passion
as she afterwards gave Proofs of.

Pleasant would it have been to any third
Person to have observ’d the Impatience with
which poor Miramene, innocent of what had
happen’d, ran to her, to enquire how she approv’d
her Choice, and the Hesitation with
which the other answer’d. “Has he not all
the Charms,” said she, “that Nature ever gave K2 ‘to K2v 68
to his Sex, or that the vainest of ours could
wish to adorn the Man she lov’d? Has he
not something in his Air, his Mien, his Eyes,
for which Language has no Words, nor can
Description reach it?―Tell me, Clementina,
do you not find him more than
even I, all passionate, and transported as I
am, cou’d speak?”

“In the Affairs of Love,” replied she, “Imagination
does all; and how extensive yours
is, I had a Testimony in the first Discovery
I made of your Passion.―Tho’ I will
not say,” continued she, coldly, “but the Baron
wants nothing that is agreeable, nor can I
blame your Choice.―Though,” added
she, after a little Pause, “I cou’d wish you
would endeavour to love him with less
Warmth, because the Circumstances you are
in permit you but a small Portion of Hope.”
“Why, cruel as thou art,” resum’d Miramene,
“dost thou deprive me of my fancy’d Heaven?
Though ’tis contrary even to a Lover’s
Probability, that I should ever in
reality be blest, the Theory of it alone keeps
Life awake.―Were I to lose Glencairn,
that is, his Love, his Wishes, soon should I
become a stupid Lump of Clay, as thoughtless,
as insensible as the cold Shrines at which
we offer our Devotions.” “I pity you,”
said Clementina, “but cannot forbear advising
you to moderate a Passion which in the End
can bring nothing but Distraction.―
Think you a Man of the Baron’s Gaiety
will for ever content himself with Contemplation?
―No, when he finds substantial‘tial K3r 69
Blessings are impossible to be attain’d, he
will seek a Cure for such an unavailing Flame
in the Arms of some other Charmer, more
at Liberty to make Present of herself.―
Besides,” continued she, “he is a Foreigner, and
you cannot expect will abandon for ever his
native Country, especially for such an ideal
Joy as this distant Conversation affords.”

It was a malicious Pleasure she took in thus
reminding her of the Misfortunes which attended
her Love; yet was there too much
Truth in what she said, to make the other suspect
she had any Motive for speaking in this
Manner but real Friendship, and the Concern
she had for her Peace.

The next Day, instead of contriving any
Thing which might forward Miramene’s accompanying
her to the Grate, she secretly
made a Complaint to Abbess, that she had
indulg’d herself in reading a little Book of
amorous Verses; on which the old Lady order’d
her Cell to be search’d; and it being
found according to the Directions Clementina
had given, she was confin’d for the whole
Day, denied the Privilege of the Gardens or
Grate, and, by way of Penance, obliged to
get by Heart seven penitential Psalms. When
the Baron came, therefore, a young Nun,
who Clementina very well knew was not without
a tender Inclination for a Cavalier, who
sometimes visited her, was commanded to be
her Companion in receiving this dangerous
Charmer. As they were going toward the
Grate; “I have a little particular Business,”
said she, “with this Gentleman, favour our Con- K3v 70
Conversation, and I will not fail to return
the Obligation.” The other assur’d her
of her Readiness to serve her, nor promis’d
more than she perform’d; for she retir’d so
far behind, that whatever had been said, it
was altogether impossible for her to have heard
one Syllable.

“The Inclination I have to oblige my
Friend,” said Clementina to the Baron, “is of
little Merit, since I want the Power.―
I hop’d to have seen you both as happy as
this cruel Grate wou’d admit; but some
mischievous Planet sure reigns to Day, and
has disappointed all my Will to serve you.”
“Not all, Madam,” reply’d Glencairn, “since I
am permitted to behold you.—And so
sensible am I of what is your Beauty’s Due,
that I confess I ought to wish no greater
Blessing than that of entertaining the excellent
Clementina on any Terms, or in any
Place.” “Very gallant indeed,” replied
she; “but as I have a Desire to be serious,
would have you put yourself into a Disposition
to answer with Sincerity what I am
about to demand.” “Tho’ it is far from
me to conceive,” resum’d he, “of what Nature,
Madam, your Questions may be, yet I am
certain, it is neither in my Will nor Power
to refuse you any Thing.” “Nay,” rejoin’d
she, “I require nothing but what is for
your own Interest and Peace of Mind to
resolve. I do not mean myself, but you.
I would have you reflect with Reason on
your Affair with Miramene, and tell me what
you imagine will be the Consequence? In ‘the K4r 71
the first Place she is a Native of Italy, you
were born in Scotland, there lies your Dependance
and Estate.—She is design’d
for a Recluse, and such effectual
Measures are taken to make her such, as
she will hardly be able to disappoint, even
tho’ you would be glad to take her portionless,
and abandon’d by all the World.—
Why then do you both endeavour to keep
alive a hopeless Flame?—Ought you not
rather to make use of your utmost Efforts
to extinguish it?—And by an absolute
Forgetfulness of each, regain that Tranquillity
which can by no other Means be obtain’d.”
The Baron look’d earnestly in
her Face while she was speaking. He knew
the Advice she gave was good, but could not
help being surpriz’d at it from her.―It
seem’d strange to him, that a Lady, who
but the Day before had seem’d so zealous for
the Continuance of their Friendship, and had
promised to do every Thing in her Power for
the Advantage of their Love, should now all
on a sudden persuade him to break off. The
Knowledge he had of his own Power over
the Fair Sex, and the Experience so many of
them had given him of it, made him sometimes
ready to suspect the Truth; but willing
to be more confirm’d, as soon as he perceiv’d
she had concluded; “Have you, Madam,”
said he, “given Miramene this Advice, or do
you think it honourable for me to be the
first who should desire a Separation?”
“You answer with an Interrogatory,” resum’d
she: “But to set you an Example, I will ‘first K4v 72
first reply to you, that I have left nothing
unsaid to Miramene, which I thought might
bring her to a just Consideration of what
was most fitting for her.” “And in what
Manner did she answer, Madam,” said he?’
“Such,” resum’d she, “as perhaps may not be
proper at the present to inform you. When
I have heard your Opinion, I shall be the
better able to judge whether it be convenient
to acquaint you with her’s.” “Ah,
Madam,” replied he, “compel me not, I beseech
you, to appear ungrateful to a Love
like Miramene’s; as such I must, should I
endeavour to withdraw my Heart, while she
continues to vouchsafe me her’s.—Soon,
alas! we must be separated—My Time of
tarrying in these Parts is almost expir’d, and
we must then bid Adieu for ever.” The
Air with which he spoke these Words convincing
Clementina that the Passion he was possess’d
of was not of that Kind which drives
People to Despair, gave her no small Satisfaction.
“Well then,” said she, “can I more
testify my Friendship for Miramene, than by
endeavouring to wean her from a Fondness
so entirely fruitless?―Men never want
their Amusements.―You will soon forget
her, and, perhaps, devoted to some new
Charmer’s Eyes, wonder you ever had a
Wish for the faint Beauties of the Italian
Ladies.” “That, Madam,” answer’d he,
looking on her with the most beseeching Languishment,
“I am certain it will never be my
Case. If I am able to retain the Impression
Miramene has made on me, till I quit Viterbo,‘terbo, L1r 73
I may assure myself it will endure
while Life continues, and may defy not
only the Beauty of the Italian Ladies, but
also those of the whole Sex.—Since,” pursu’d
he, with a deep Sigh, “none can effect
what the Divine Clementina cannot.” These
Words, and the Manner in which they were
utter’d, giving her to understand, that if he
were not already estrang’d in his Affections
to Miramene, he had a very strong Inclination
to be so, and that a very little Temptation
would turn the Scale, made her whole
Soul exult with a Pleasure till then unknown
to her.―To gain a Conquest over the
only Heart she every thought it worth her
while to make any Endeavours to attract;
and to triumph over a Rival of Miramene’s
Merit, she thought was so great a Proof of
her own, as nothing could exceed. Discretion
and Modesty, however, forbidding she shou’d
immediately make a Show of what she thought,
“Clementina,” said she, “has neither the Will
nor Power to disunite Affections such as
yours. And ’tis but because Fate is against
you, that I would persuade a Moderation
of the Passion, or else a Resolution to surmount
all Obstacles.—To wish, to languish,
to repine, without an Endeavour to be more
happy, methinks denotes a Poorness of Spirit.
—I am indeed a Stranger to the Force
of Love, but have heard those possess’d of
it affirm, that there is nothing so difficult
but what it enables them to undertake.—
Had some Men been in your Circumstances,
or some Women in Miramene’s, it would L not L1v 74
not have been these Walls that should have
kept them at so disagreeable a Distance.”
“You speak, Madam,” answer’d he, “of a
Passion such as only yourself can be capable
of inspiring.―He who aspires to
the Glory of Clementina’s Love, must be
strangely unworthy of it, who would not
hazard all Things, and think Life itself
too poor a Purchase for one Smile of her’s.
—Miramene has, indeed, her Charms;
but as the lesser Planets are lost amidst the
Blaze of the all-dazling Sun, so can her Influence
but faintly warm where the bright
Day of your Perfections shine.—But, Madam,”
pursued he, after a little Pause, “can
it be possible that you are yet insensible of
the Pains you give? Were you adorn’d
thus richly with all the Charms that bounteous
Nature has it in her Power to bestow,
only to enslave our Sex? And because
the Heaven of your Charms is above
all Merit, must it be unattainable?” “I
dare not boast,” answer’d she, with a Smile
which added to her natural Sweetness, “that
I have Resolution enough, for ever, to
withstand the Efforts of a Passion which has
subdued Hearts much better defended than
mine: But this I am certain of, that I will,
as long as I can, defend myself against it;
and if I do at last become a Victim to it, it
shall be only in Favour of a Man who shall
not shame my Choice.” “Your Love,
Madam,” return’d he, “might invigorate the
dullest Soul, and firing it with a Wish to
become worthy of the Blessing, make it undertake‘dertake L2r 75
Things which would in Time render
it, in some measure, so.” “All the Merit
I should require,” resum’d she, “would be
an equal Return of what I give.—And as
whenever I love at all, it will be to Excess,
I should expect the same Degree of Fondness.
—That is not Love where dull Discretion
guides the unactive Will.—The
Man to whom I give my Heart shall think
nothing in Competition with the Prize.—
Life, Liberty, or even Fame itself, shall
seem but trifling Hazards.—He shall forget
every Thing, undertake every Thing,
dare every Thing, to gain or to maintain the
Conquest.” “Ah, Madam,” interrupted
the Baron, with all the Impatience of Desire
sparkling in his Eyes, “that this alone were
sufficient to obtain you!—Were there no
more requir’d, who would not stake his
every other Hope, to gain the Sum of all
in the Divine Clementina?—But what,
alas!” pursued he, converting the Briskness of
his Voice into a Tone all languishing and melancholly,
“have I to do with an Idea which
must be ever foreign to my Soul?—What
is it to me the Path which leads to Heaven,
since I am a Wretch must never enter there,
self-doom’d to all the Hell of wild Despair?”
“My Lord,” cry’d Clementina, concealing her
inward Transports under the Appearance of
Amazement, “what is it you mean?—You
seem disorder’d—Perhaps I am the Cause,
in entertaining you with Discourses on a
Passion, which, considering the Restraint
Miramene is in, may well indeed by look’d L2 ‘on L2v 76
on rather as your Misfortune than the contrary.”
“You do well, Madam,” said he,
“by the Name of Miramene to remind me
more of my Unworthiness, and keep me
from a Presumption which might be unpardonable.
—But oh, remember,” added he,
with a Countenance in which Despair was visibly
imprinted, “that whenever you would insinuate
the Merits of another, you must conceal
your own.—Too fatally bright those
Eyes break on the Gazer’s Sight to suffer
the Lustre of any other to appear.—I said
I would not speak, but how impossible is it
to forbear?―Forgive the involuntary
Crime, and permit me to depart.” A
low Bow accompanied these Words, which
being utter’d, he withdrew hastily from the
Grate, leaving Clementina in a Confusion
which cannot be well express’d. She passionately
wish’d, indeed, to engage him; but
then she wish’d not he should so suddenly
have declar’d himself.—She fear’d her Behavior
had been too free, and doubted that
what he said had rather been inspir’d by the
Encouragement she had given him, than by
his own ungovernable Passion.—She question’d
the Force of her own Charms when she reflected
on those of Miramene, and trembled with
the Apprehension that it might be only owing
to the Difficulties his Passion met with in the
obtaining that Lady, that he sought Relief
in a more easy Conquest. She now experienc’d
all the little Inquietudes of Love, and
began already to wish she was still as ignorant
of it, as when she had seen the noblest Youths of L3r 77
of Rome dying at her Feet. She found, however,
some little Ease, when, having given
Miramene the Letter, that Lady, according
to her Custom, communicating to her the
Contents, she imagin’d his Expressions less
endearing than they had been.—That the
Compliments he made her seem’d forc’d, and
had nothing of that Freedom which is the Result
of the Heart; and, in fine, that the
whole Epistle had more of Respect than Tenderness,
the infallible Demonstrative of a decaying
Passion. And when she once had settled
herself in this Opinion, her Disquiets by
Degrees abated, and gave way to Emotions
altogether the Reverse. The Image of Glencairn,
all charming, all divine and lovely, rose in
her Soul, and presented itself to her in the
most submissive, most adoring Posture; that
of her Rival, Miramene, sadly dejected,
standing by, and deploring her Want of Charms
to maintain the Conquest which once own’d
her Power.—Now did she exult with all the
Pride of a vain triumphant Woman.—Now
did she glory in the Force of her own Charms,
and despise those of the forsaken Miramene.
’Tis true, good Nature gave her some little
Shocks, in the Consideration how unfaithful
she was to a Person who had entrusted her
with the dearest Secret of her Life; but when
the Heart is once influenc’d by Love, how
little effectual against that all-powerful Passion,
are all the Considerations of Reason,
Friendship, Duty, Gratitude, or any other
Motive which may be objected? She was inflam’d
with the highest Passion for the charminging L3v 78
Baron; she believ’d him equally influenc’d
by her Charms; and what lately occasion’d
her so many Perturbations, gave her now only
an Extacy of Pleasure.

She doubted not but he would come the
next Day to the Grate, and linger’d about the
Walk at the Time she expected he would
come, till she indeed was told he was there.
She had a Letter from Miramene to deliver to
him, and had resolv’d to make so far a Trial
of him, that whatever he should say to her,
or whatever her own Inclinations should prompt
her to reply, she would not, in Words, declare
she admitted him on any Score which
might be prejudicial to her Friend. But he
disappointed her Intentions, by a taking a Method
altogether new, and against which she
had not prepar’d herself. She no sooner saw
him, than she presented him with a Letter
from Miramene, which he took with a cool
Air, and put into his Pocket; after which,
“I have nothing to trouble you with,” said he,
“but this.”—And with these Words gave
a Paper; which she presently looking on,
found it directed, “To the Divine Inspirer of my present
Wishes, and sole Goddess of all my future
Hopes.”
—“This,” said she, “I will not fail to deliver
to the Person for whom it is design’d, the
lovely, and the kind Miramene.” “As it ‘is L4r 79
is not seal’d, Madam,” replied he, “I would
beg you first to examine the Contents, and
then, according as you shall think most fit,
either expose or burn it.” He waited not
her Reply; but looking on her with Eyes all-
languishing and tender, made her the most
submissive Reverence, and retir’d.

Dear as she priz’d his Presence, his Absence,
gratifying her Impatience to see what
he had left behind him, was now most pleasing
to her. She went to her Cell, and having
made fast the Door, open’d the dear Billet,
and found it in the following Lines:

“Notwithstanding the many Disadvantages I
labour under, the Resolution I had
taken to conceal for ever a Passion, which even
from its very Birth was accompany’d by Despair;
my treacherous Eyes, in spight of me, betray’d
the Secret of my Heart, and told you that I lov’d.
―Yet impute it not to my Presumption―
I fear every Thing, and, alas! have Nothing
to hope. My Religion, my Principles, my Country,
my Demerits, and most of all, my seeming
Infidelity to Miramene, all plead against me,
and present an Image full of Terror to my shuddering
Soul.―Yet when I consider how impossible
it is that you shou’d be ignorant of your own
Charms, methinks you shou’d rather pity than
condemn the Effect of a Force so irresistable.
―Nor ought my having lov’d before, to be
objected against me as a Crime.―The greater
my Prepossession was, the greater is your Glory
to surmount it.―My love, the Want of Power 2 L4v 80
Power to conceal it, my sad Despair, and the
unspeakable Tortures of my bleeding Heart, proclaim
the Wonders of your Eyes: And I have
this Happiness, even in the midst of Anguish,
that you never had a Slave which gave you more
exalted Triumph.―Whatever is my Doom,
I ought not to complain. ’Tis a more elevated
Character, to die for Clementina, than to live
possess’d of all the Joys which Love can give,
with any other other Woman. Be but so divinely
good, to say you hate me not, and I will absolve
my Fate of all Injustice to The Despairing, Dying, but
To the last Moment of his Life,
The zealously Adoring, Glencairn.”

Those who are in the least capable of judging
what Love is, after having been inform’d
in what Kind of Situation the Mind of Miramene
was, need not be told how great a Transport
she felt at a Declaration so much wish’d.
Conscious, however, of what was owing to
the Decorum of her Sex, she would not immediately
make known the Pleasure with which
she receiv’d his Addresses. And having study’d
a little what was best for her to do, sat down, M1r 81
down, and answer’d his Epistle in these
Terms:

“To Baron Glencairn. Doubtful, like you, that my Tongue might
utter something which would either be improper
for me to speak, or disobliging to you to
hear, I chuse this Way to declare my Sentiments.
At the reading yours, Surprize was the first
Emotion of my Soul; Resentment next ensued,
that I was become the Property either of your
Mirth, or the mean Ease of hopeless Love another
had inspir’d.―But this, perhaps too
just Remonstrance, lasted not long: That Vanity
which is inherent to my Sex making me imagine,
that neither my Quality, nor my Person, merited
such Treatment; I was half-tempted to believe,
I seem’d indeed not less lovely in your
Eyes than Miramene had been.—Time and
your future Behaviour alone will make it appear
which of these various Conjectures had
most of Truth.—I permit you to give me the
Confirmation; till when expect no direct Answer
from Clementina di Morella. P.S. Whatever in Reality are your Sentiments
of me, I entreat you will not omit
writing to Miramene. I had no small Difficulty
to excuse the Neglect of Yesterday. ” M Having M1v 82

Having prepar’d this against the Time that
she expected him at the Grate, she no sooner
saw him appear, than, putting her Head as
near as possible, “Have you brought a Letter
for Miramene?” said she.’ “No,
Madam,” answer’d he. “So little have I the
Power to disguise my Sentiments, that tho’
I have three or four times attempted it, I
have not yet been able to say any thing
which might look of a Piece with those I
wrote before. The Knowledge of your superior
Charms taught me to despise not only
those she is Mistress of, but also those of
the whole Sex beside.” “Pity,” resum’d
she, “however, Honour, Gratitude, and good
Nature oblige you to an Endeavour to make
her as happy as you can.―And, methinks,
’tis easy for the Pen to dissemble,
tho’ not for the Tongue and Eyes.” “It
was your own Advice, Madam,” resum’d he,
“that both of us should make use of our utmost
Efforts to banish a Desire which from
the Beginning gave but a slender Prospect
of Success.―As your Eyes, therefore,
have effectually perform’d the Work on one
Side, so let your Tongue persuade the Accomplishment
of the other, and cure the
Flame of Miramene, as you have converted
mine.” “The Guilt,” return’d she, “of
having listen’d to a Declaration from you,
so prejudicial to her Hopes, and the Friendship
I had vow’d her, will not now suffer me
to speak to her on that Head with the same
Freedom as before.—My Voice would
faulter, and Blushes, unrestrain’d in spight ‘of M2r 83
of me, proclaim the Interest I took in what
I but pretended to counsel for her Ease.—
It is therefore absolutely necessary, to conceal
that Passion your profess for me, to continue
to counterfeit a Constancy for her.
—I shall expect to see you to-morrow,”
added she, giving him the Letter she had written
in Answer to that she had receiv’d from
him, “and to enable you to write, in the
manner you ought to do, to Miramene.
Lay this before you, and imagine ’tis to
Clementina you are about to lay open all
your Soul.—Make use of all your Wit
and Eloquence to allay the rising Tempest
in her Mind.—As to what you would
have me believe, I shall content myself with
such Assurances as your Tongue shall be
able to give me.” She would not allow
him a longer Conversation at that Time, but
withdrew hastily from his Presence. Not indeed
that such a Behavior was the Effect of
her Prudence, or that she would not gladly
have indulg’d herself in the Pleasure of discoursing
him; but she trembled with the Apprehensions
that Miramene by some Accident
might pass that Way, and seeing him at the
Grate, without having brought any Letter for
her, might have some Suspicion of the true
Cause of his Errand, and enflam’d with jealous
Rage, declare the Suggestions of her Passion,
and by informing the Abbess of his Name, put
a Stop to the further Progress of their Love,
though it should be the final Ruin of her
own.

M2 To M2v 84

To prevent her from entertaining any such
Imaginations therefore, she told her he had
not been at the Convent these two Days,
—seem’d surpriz’d at the Neglect, and
blam’d his Want of Ardency, in Terms which
gave the deceiv’d Miramene the highest Opinion
of her Sincerity and Friendship. She
thank’d her for the Zeal with which she seem’d
to espouse her Cause; but having too much
real Tenderness for the Baron, not to have a
perfect Confidence in him, entreated the other
she would judge with less Severity. “I rather
doubt his Want of Health, than Love,” said
she; “Pray, Heaven, no ill Accident has
happen’d to him.—I am too well convinc’d
of his Integrity, his Honour, his
Tenderness for me, to fear, that till he
ceases to be, or to have the Power to give
me Proofs of it, he will cease to do it.”
With so much Softness and kind Assurance
did she express herself in his behalf, that ’tis
possible, in spight of his new Passion for Clementina,
had the Baron been Witness of her
Behaviour, he had been charm’d by it to a
second Change, as much in her Favour, as
that he had been guilty of, was in the contrary.
Even Clementina herself was shock’d
at her own Perfidy; and had she not been
sway’d by a Passion strong as Frenzy, would
have endeavour’d to have brought him back to
his first Vows.—But, alas! ’tis Destiny alone
rules Love; Reason, Religion, and even the
Will is subservient to that all-powerful Passion
which forces us sometimes to Actions our Natures
most detest; Mother against Daughter, Father M3r 85
Father against Son, contrives; all Obligations
of Blood and Interest are no more remember’d;
over every Bound we leap, to gratify
the wild Desire, and Conscience but vainly
interposes its Remonstrances.

Clementina, thus enter’d into the fatal Labyrinth,
it was now too late to look back on
that wide Field of Liberty she had left behind,
and cou’d no more regain.—The few
Efforts she made to do so were in vain, and
but more convinc’d her of the Impossibility
of the Attempt.—The natural Propensity
also which she had to follow her Inclinations,
and to think nothing a Fault she had a Mind
to do, very much contributed to render fruitless
all the Endeavours she made use of to regain
her Liberty.

The next Day, at the usual Hour, came
the dangerous Baron, to pay his double Devoirs:
To Clementina, all the tender Expressions
of Love that Tongue e’er utter’d, or
that Heart is capable of conceiving—To Miramene,
those of the Pen, dictated by Wit
and Gratitude. The Excuse he made to her
for his late Omissions, was Indisposition: And
as Men seldom want Words to defend never so
ill a Cause, he added enough on that Head to
make himself believ’d, even tho’ she had been
by Nature as dissident as she was really the
reverse. She doubted not the Truth of every
Thing he wrote; and while he was every
Day more and more fixing himself in the Affections
of her Rival, was easy, in a Self-
Assurance that he had none but what were center’d
in her.

So M3v 86

So powerful were the Charms of this lovely
North-Briton, and so difficult it is for
a Heart which is in earnest influenc’d by
Love, to conceal it for any long Time,
that he soon perceiv’d the Advantages he
had gain’d, and that Clementina was not
less devoted to him, than Miramene: She
made no Scruple, at length, of confessing it.
―She endeavour’d not to hide the
utmost Extravagance of her Passion from
him.―Whenever they met, she gave a
Loose to Tenderness, and to all the Proofs
of it that forbidding Grate would suffer
him to receive. But this was not all he
wanted; his Passion for her was of too
warm a Nature to permit him to be content
with a Platonic Return.―He long’d
for more substantial Joys, for Endearments
which were not to be obtain’d, while she
from whom he wish’d to receive them was
in a Monastery. He fail’d not to complain
of the Severity of his Fate, and she
was willing to contribute all she could to
his Relief. In fine, the Passion on both
Sides grew to such a Height, that a nearer
Conversation seem’d absolutely necessary for
the Preservation of their Lives. Clementina
swore to refuse no Hazard to reward the
Zeal of his Affection. The transported Baron
gave her Ten thousand Assurances that
he design’d only the strictest Honour, and
wish’d no more than to make her his by
the Rites of Marriage. And these mutual
Promises being made, all that remain’d was
the Execution of them. The Contrivance by M4r 87
by what Means was left to Glencairn, as
being better acquainted with the World,
and had his LIberty to seek out Persons
proper to be employ’d in so dangerous an
Undertaking as assisting a Lady in making
her Escape from a Convent. The Task, indeed,
was difficult; but what cannot industrious
Love accomplish? The adventurous
Baron soon found a Stratagem; and having
prepar’d every Thing for his Departure, for
he knew that, after such in Action, Viterbo
was no Place for either of them, at least
till they should be reconcil’d to Count de Morello,
he put what he devis’d in Execution
in this Manner.

He had in Travels seen certain Machines,
in which Men who dare brave Death
in its most shocking Colours, for a little
Gain, venture to the Bottom of the Ocean.
Some he remember’d were made of Crystal,
others of Wood; but in an Island adjacent
to that of which he was a Native, he had once
been present at the same Experiment in Leather:
And this last was what he thought
most convenient for his Purpose. He therefore
dispatches a Servant to Rome, where
there are many famous Artificers, with Directions
to have such a one made, by a
Model which he drew out on Paper. The
Person he employ’d was so diligent on his
Errand, that in a few Days he return’d to
his Master, with an Account that it was
done; and, according to Orders, conceal’d
in a secret Closet, till he should send for
it. The next Thing our projecting Lover had M4v 88
had to do, was to procure four Friars Habits;
and for a Sum of Money, and an
Assurance that it should never be known
who had oblig’d him with them, he accomplish’d
this with the same Ease as the other.
Thus far his Endeavours being crown’d
with Success, he disguis’d himself and three
Servants in these Habits; and having sent
for the Leather Diving-Vessel, brought it
between two of them to Viterbo, while himself
and the other walk’d before it as in Procession,
singing Hymns and spiritual Songs as
they pass’d along. They stopp’d at the Augustine
Convent, just about the Close of
Day; and some of the Lay-Sisters happening
to be about the Gates, began to
ask the Meaning of so odd a Procession,
and what it was they carried with so much
Devotion: But our counterfeit Friars refus’d
to relate the Story to any but the Abbess;
who being inform’d of the good Mens Request,
immediately vouchsafed them Audience.
The Baron would not venture to be the
Spokesman himself, fearing his Voice might
betray him; but had well instructed one of
the others, who was a subtle and ingenious
Fellow, and perfectly skill’d in his Lesson,
accosted her in these Terms:

“Oh, sacred Sister,” said he, “never did
you hear a Story more full of Wonder
than this we bring: Never did our Holy
Religion boast of a greater Confirmation
of the Power of Saints and ministring“string 2 N1r 89
Angels: Never did Heresy receive
a greater Blow than this.―A young
Virgin, born in an Island belonging to
the Spaniards, saw, in her Sleep, the Virgin,
full of Beauty, Majesty, and Sweetness.
She commanded her to leave that
Place, and repair to Loretto, there to
consecrate herself at her Shrine; promising
her, at the same Time, that if she
neglected not this Injunction, she should
become a Glory to her Sex while living,
and at her Death plac’d among the
Saints. The pious Maid relating to her
Parents the Vision, they endeavoured to
make her forget it, by telling her it was
no more than a Dream, and that there
was no such Thing in Reality requir’d of
her. They had half-persuaded her to
think more of it, when she saw the glorious
Shade, and heard the same Command
repeated. She was now convinc’d, and it
was no longer in the Power of any Person
to dissuade her from the Voyage. She
embark’d in the first Ship that set out
for Europe; it being in a manner indifferent
to her in what Part of it she was
landed, resolving first to go to Rome, and
afterward to Loretto. In fine, she set Sail;
but had not proceeded very far in her
Voyage, before the Captain of the Vessel
attempted to seduce her Chastity;
and being repuls’d by her with all the
Disdain of virtuous Indignation, he had
recourse to brutish Force: On which she
cried out with all her Might to the VirginN “gin N1v 90
for Protection; but he still persisting,
the virtuous Maid broke on a sudden from
his Grasp, and threw herself into the Sea.
―But, oh, the Miracle! instead of
sinking, or becoming, as was believ’d,
the Prey of some ravenous Monster of the
watry Element, this leathern Vessel floating
on the Surface of the Waves, turn’d as
she fell, receiving her into its Mouth; and
the Wind changing that Moment, drove
her to her desired Port, and threw her safe
on Shore. The wonderful Manner in which
she landed, was seen by a great Number
of Persons; some of which she oblig’d to
carry the Vessel which had so miraculously
preserv’d her, to a Convent near the SeaSide,
where she follow’d it herself, and related
to the Abbot the History of her
Escape, and the Design she had of dedicating
both herself and this Vehicle to the
Virgin. On which, four Fathers were order’d
to attend and bear it from thence to
Padua, where we receiv’d and lodg’d it,
and have now conducted to this Place; not
doubting but you will gladly vouchsafe to
give the holy happy Vessel Shelter from
impure Hands, till Morning, when we will
wait on you again, and proceed on our meritorious
Progress.”

Had the Abbess been doubtful of the
Truth of this Report, she was not if she
should seem to believe it―She knew Miracles
were a great Support of their Religion among N2r 91
among the Common People, and that there
was sometimes Occasion for a new Wonder
to strengthen staggering Faith. She receiv’d
the pretended Fathers with great Civility,
and conducted them and their Machine into
the Chapel, where it was set down with much
reverential Form; after which they took leave,
and lay that Night in an Inn in Viterbo.

Now came on the Part Clementina was to
act in this Enterprize, having been perfectly
instructed by the Baron what to do. After
the first Matins were over, she stole softly
into the Chapel, and with the same Spirit
and Resolution that Cleopatra suffer’d herself
to be cramm’d into a Hamper, in order to be
brought to the Presence of Julius Cæsar, did
our Heroine creep into the Machine. Being
enter’d, she found it commodious enough;
and ’tis not to be doubted, but that the Desire
she had of escaping, and the Fears of
being prevented, made her lie as still and immoveable
as Death. The diligent Friars,
however, believing she was in little Ease,
came early to her Relief. The Abbess wish’d
them well on their Journey, and sent a Million
of Commendations to the several Monasteries
at which they said they were to call in
their Progress to Loretto. The Story taking
Air, great Numbers of the Populace follow’d
them to the City Gates; but the Friars, tho’
they prais’d their Sanctity, would permit
them to go no farther.

Being got rid of these troublesome Companions,
they turn’d into a Wood, where a Person
appointed by the Baron met them with N2 Horses. N2v 92
Horses. He had taken Care to send his
Baggage before, to Sienna, a City in the
Territories of the Great Duke of Tuscany;
to which, having releas’d Clementina from her
leathern Confinement, and mounted her on
an excellent Horse, and chang’d Habits, they
made their Way with the utmost Expedition,
throwing first the Machine and Friars Dresses
into a River, to prevent Discovery of the
Way they took: even the tender Things the
Lovers had to say to each other were adjourn’d,
till they should arrive at a Place
where they might utter them with greater
Safety; not doubting but as soon as Signiora
Clementina was miss’d, Pursuit wou’d be
made after them all round the Country.

Nor were they deceiv’d in their Conjecture.
Never had the cautions Abbess met with such
a Disappointment in her Care, nor never did
any Woman more resolve to revenge the Imposition.
The Baron’s Lodgings was the first
Place to which she sent; not as imagining he
had any Hand in her Flight, but to acquaint
him with what had happen’d, and entreat him
to join in an Endeavour to recover her. But
his sudden Removal, and at the same Time,
presently gave her a Suspicion of the Truth;
especially when the Count di Morello, who
happen’d to come to Viterbo, with a Design
to talk to his Daughter, assur’d her that he
wrote no such Letter as she had receiv’d by
the Hands of the Baron, nor had given that
Gentleman any Permission to visit her.

I will leave the Reader to guess the Rage
of this perplex’d Father, and the Vows he made N3r 93
made to take the most bitter Revenge on Glencairn,
if ever he was found; as also the sad
Distraction of the unhappy Miramene, betray’d
by the only Persons in the World
whose Faith she had trusted and depended on.

’Tis not to be doubted but that all imaginable
Diligence was us’d in the Pursuit of
these counterfeit Friars: But Fortune took
the Part of Love, and disappointed all the
Endeavours made to separate the Bodies of
two Persons, whose Hearts were at the present
united by the fondest and most violent Affection
that ever was the Theme of History.
But what Fate hereafter attended so inconsiderate
a Passion, with many surprizing Turns
which happen’d in their Affairs, I shall, at
more Leisure, communicate to the Publick.