Make haste, he added  All is arranged for your flight  there is not a moment to be lost  I will leave you now, but meet me in a few moments in the western portico  the lamps are extinguished there, and the servants have neglected to relight them  be silent and be swift! He disappeared as he spoke, and Isidora, after a few moments, followed him. Though the portico was dark, a faint gleam from the splendidly illuminated rooms disclosed to her the figure of Melmoth. He drew her arm under his in silence, and proceeded to hurry her from the spot. Stop, villain, stop! exclaimed the voice of her brother, who, followed by Montilla, sprung from the balcony  Where do you drag my sister?  and you, degraded wretch, where are you about to fly, and with whom? Melmoth attempted to pass him, supporting Isidora with one arm, while the other was extended to repel his approach; but Fernan, drawing his sword, placed himself directly in their way, at the same time calling on Montilla to raise the household, and tear Isidora from his arms. Off, fool  off! exclaimed Melmoth Rush not on destruction!  I seek not your life  one victim of your house is enough  let us pass ere you perish!  Boaster, prove your words! said Fernan, making a desperate thrust at him, which Melmoth coolly put by with his hand. Draw, coward! cried Fernan, rendered furious by this action  My next will be more successful! Melmoth slowly drew his sword. Boy! said he in an awful voice  If I turn this point against you, your life is not worth a moments purchase  be wise and let us pass. Fernan made no answer but by a fierce attack, which was instantly met by his antagonist. The shrieks of Isidora had now reached the ears of the revellers, who rushed in crowds to the garden  the servants followed them with flambeaux snatched from the walls adorned for this illomened festival, and the scene of the combat was in a moment as light as day, and surrounded by a hundred spectators. Part them  part them  save them! shrieked Isidora, writhing at the feet of her father and mother, who, with the rest, were gazing in stupid horror at the scene  Save my brother  save my husband! The whole dreadful truth rushed on Donna Claras mind at these words, and casting a conscious look at the terrified priest, she fell to the ground. The combat was short as it was unequal,  in two moments Melmoth passed his sword twice through the body of Fernan, who sunk beside Isidora, and expired! There was a universal pause of horror for some moments  at length a cry of  Seize the murderer! burst from every lip, and the crowd began to close around Melmoth. He attempted no defence. He retreated a few paces, and sheathing his sword, waved them back only with his arm; and this movement, that seemed to announce an internal power above all physical force, had the effect of nailing every spectator to the spot where he stood. The light of the torches, which the trembling servants held up to gaze on him, fell full on his countenance, and the voices of a few shuddering speakers exclaimed, MELMOTH THE WANDERER!  I am  I am! said that unfortunate being  and who now will oppose my passing  who will become my companion?  I seek not to injure now  but I will not be detained. Would that breathless fool had yielded to my bidding, not to my sword  there was but one human chord that vibrated in my heart  it is broken tonight, and for ever! I will never tempt woman more! Why should the whirlwind, that can shake mountains, and overwhelm cities with its breath, descend to scatter the leaves of the rosebud? As he spoke, his eyes fell on the form of Isidora, which lay at his feet extended beside that of Fernan. He bent over it for a moment  a pulsation like returning life agitated her frame. He bent nearer  he whispered, unheard by the rest,  Isadora, will you fly with me  this is the moment  every arm is paralyzed  every mind is frozen to its centre!  Isidora, rise and fly with me  this is your hour of safety! Isidora, who recognized the voice but not the speaker, raised herself for a moment  looked on Melmoth  cast a glance on the bleeding bosom of Fernan, and fell on it dyed in that blood. Melmoth started up  there was a slight movement of hostility among some of the guests  he turned one brief and withering glance on them  they stood every man his hand on his sword, without the power to draw them, and the very domestics held up the torches in their trembling hands, as if with involuntary awe they were lighting him out. So he passed on unmolested amid the groupe, till he reached the spot where Aliaga, stupified with horror, stood beside the bodies of his son and daughter. Wretched old man! he exclaimed, looking on him as the unhappy father strained his glazing and dilated eyes to see who spoke to him, and at length with difficulty recognized the form of the stranger  the companion of his fearful journey some months past  Wretched old man  you were warned  but you neglected the warning  I adjured you to save your daughter  I best knew her danger  you saved your gold  now estimate the value of the dross you grasped, and the precious ore you dropt! I stood between myself and her  I warned  I menaced  it was not for me to intreat. Wretched old man  see the result!  and he turned slowly to depart. An involuntary sound of execration and horror, half a howl and half a hiss, pursued his parting steps, and the priest, with a dignity that more became his profession than his character, exclaimed aloud, Depart accursed, and trouble us not  go, cursing and to curse.  I go conquering and to conquer, answered Melmoth with wild and fierce triumph  wretches! your vices, your passions, and your weaknesses, make you my victims. Upbraid yourselves, and not me. Heroes in your guilt, but cowards in your despair, you would kneel at my feet for the terrible immunity with which I pass through you at this moment.  I go accursed of every human heart, yet untouched by one human hand!  As he retired slowly, the murmur of suppressed but instinctive and irrepressible horror and hatred burst from the groupe. He past on scowling at them like a lion on a pack of bayed hounds, and departed unmolested  unassayed  no weapon was drawn  no arm was lifted  the mark was on his brow,  and those who could read it knew that all human power was alike forceless and needless,  and those who could not succumbed in passive horror. Every sword was in its sheath as Melmoth quitted the garden. Leave him to God!  was the universal exclamation. You could not leave him in worse hands, exclaimed Fra Jose  He will certainly be damned  and  that is some comfort to this afflicted family. Chapter 36 Nunc animum pietas, et materna nomina frangunt. In less than half an hour, the superb apartments, the illuminated gardens of Aliaga, did not echo a footstep; all were gone, except a few who lingered, some from curiosity, some from humanity, to witness or condole with the sufferings of the wretched parents. The sumptuously decorated garden now presented a sight horrid from the contrasted figures and scenery. The domestics stood like statues, holding the torches still in their hands  Isidora lay beside the bloody corse of her brother, till an attempt was made to remove it, and then she clung to it with a strength that required strength to tear her from it  Aliaga, who had not uttered a word, and scarcely drawn a breath, sunk on his knees to curse his halflifeless daughter  Donna Clara, who still retained a womans heart, lost all fear of her husband in this dreadful emergency, and, kneeling beside him, held his uplifted hands, and struggled hard for the suspension of the malediction  Fra Jose, the only one of the groupe who appeared to possess any power of recollection or of mental sanity, addressed repeatedly to Isidora the question, Are you married,  and married to that fearful being?  I am married! answered the victim, rising from beside the corse of her brother. I am married! she added, glancing a look at her splendid habit, and displaying it with a frantic laugh. A loud knocking at the garden gate was heard at this moment. I am married! shrieked Isidora, and here comes the witness of my nuptials! As she spoke, some peasants from the neighbourhood, assisted by the domestics of Don Aliaga, brought in a corse, so altered from the fearful change that passes on the mortal frame, that the nearest relative could not have known it. Isidora recognized it in a moment for the body of the old domestic who had disappeared so mysteriously on the night of her frightful nuptials. The body had been discovered but that evening by the peasants; it was lacerated as by a fall from rocks, and so disfigured and decayed as to retain no resemblance to humanity. It was recognizable only by the livery of Aliaga, which, though much defaced, was still distinguishable by some peculiarities in the dress, that announced that those defaced garments covered the mortal remains of the old domestic. There! cried Isidora with delirious energy  There is the witness of my fatal marriage! Fra Jose hung over the illegible fragments of that whereon nature had once written  This is a human being, and, turning his eyes on Isidora, with involuntary horror he exclaimed, Your witness is dumb! As the wretched Isidora was dragged away by those who surrounded her, she felt the first throes of maternal suffering, and exclaimed, Oh! there will be a living witness  if you permit it to live! Her words were soon realized; she was conveyed to her apartment, and in a few hours after, scarcely assisted and wholly unpitied by her attendants, gave birth to a daughter. This event excited a sentiment in the family at once ludicrous and horrible. Aliaga, who had remained in a state of stupefaction since his sons death, uttered but one exclamation  Let the wife of the sorcerer, and their accursed offspring, be delivered into the hands of the merciful and holy tribunal, the Inquisition. He afterwards muttered something about his property being confiscated, but to this nobody paid attention. Donna Clara was almost distracted between compassion for her wretched daughter, and being grandmother to an infant demon, for such she deemed the child of Melmoth the Wanderer must be  and Fra Jose, while he baptized the infant with trembling hands, almost expected a fearful sponsor to appear and blast the rite with his horrible negative to the appeal made in the name of all that is holy among Christians. The baptismal ceremony was performed, however, with an omission which the goodnatured priest overlooked  there was no sponsor  the lowest domestic in the house declined with horror the proposal of being sponsor for the child of that terrible union. The wretched mother heard them from her bed of pain, and loved her infant better for its utter destitution. A few hours put an end to the consternation of the family, on the score of religion at least. The officers of the Inquisition arrived, armed with all the powers of their tribunal, and strongly excited by the report, that the Wanderer of whom they had been long in search, had lately perpetrated an act that brought him within the sphere of their jurisdiction, by involving the life of the only being his solitary existence held alliance with. We hold him by the cords of a man, said the chief inquisitor, speaking more from what he read than what he felt  if he burst these cords he is more than man. He has a wife and child, and if there be human elements in him, if there be any thing mortal clinging to his heart, we shall wind round the roots of it, and extract it. It was not till after some weeks, that Isidora recovered her perfect recollection. When she did, she was in a prison, a pallet of straw was her bed, a crucifix and a deaths head the only furniture of her cell; the light struggled through a narrow grate, and struggled in vain, to cast one gleam on the squalid apartment that it visited and shrunk from. Isidora looked round her  she had light enough to see her child  she clasped it to her bosom, from which it had unconsciously drawn its feverish nourishment, and wept in extasy. It is my own, she sobbed, and only mine! It has no father  he is at the ends of the earth  he has left me alone  but I am not alone while you are left to me! She was left in solitary confinement for many days, undisturbed and unvisited. The persons in whose hands she was had strong reasons for this mode of treatment. They were desirous that she should recover perfect sanity of intellect previous to her examination, and they also wished to give her time to form that profound attachment to the innocent companion of her solitude, that might be a powerful engine in their hands in discovering those circumstances relative to Melmoth that had hitherto baffled all the power and penetration of the Inquisition itself. All reports agreed that the Wanderer had never before been known to make a woman the object of his temptation, or to entrust her with the terrible secret of his destiny;65 and the Inquisitors were heard to say to each other, Now that we have got the Delilah in our hands, we shall soon have the Sampson. It was on the night previous to her examination, (of which she was unapprized), that Isidora saw the door of her cell opened, and a figure appear at it, whom, amid the dreary obscurity that surrounded her, she recognized in a moment,  it was Fra Jose. After a long pause of mutual horror, she knelt in silence to receive his benediction, which he gave with feeling solemnity; and then the good monk, whose propensities, though somewhat earthly and sensual, were never devilish, after vainly drawing his cowl over his face to stifle his sobs, lifted up his voice and wept bitterly. Isidora was silent, but her silence was not that of sullen apathy, or of conscienceseared impenitence. At length Fra Jose seated himself on the foot of the pallet, at some distance from the prisoner, who was also sitting, and bending her cheek, down which a cold tear slowly flowed, over her infant. Daughter, said the monk, collecting himself, it is to the indulgence of the holy office I owe this permission to visit you.  I thank them, said Isidora, and her tears flowed fast and relievingly. I am permitted also to tell you that your examination will take place tomorrow,  to adjure you to prepare for it,  and, if there be any thing which  My examination! repeated Isidora with surprise, but evidently without terror, on what subject am I then to be examined?  On that of your inconceivable union with a being devoted and accursed. His voice was choaked with horror, and he added, Daughter, are you then indeed the wife of  of  that being, whose name makes the flesh creep, and the hair stand on end?  I am.  Who were the witnesses of your marriage, and what hand dared to bind yours with that unholy and unnatural bond?  There were no witnesses  we were wedded in darkness. I saw no form, but I thought I heard words uttered  I know I felt a hand place mine in Melmoths  its touch was as cold as that of the dead.  Oh complicated and mysterious horror! said the priest, turning pale, and crossing himself with marks of unfeigned terror; he bowed his head on his arm for some time, and remained silent from unutterable emotion. Father, said Isidora at length, you knew the hermit who lived amid the ruins of the monastery near our house,  he was a priest also,  he was a holy man, it was he who united us! Her voice trembled.  Wretched victim! groaned the priest, without raising his head, you know not what you utter  that holy man is known to have died the very night preceding that of your dreadful union. Another pause of mute horror followed, which the priest at length broke.  Unhappy daughter, said he in a composed and solemn voice, I am indulged with permission to give you the benefit of the sacrament of confession, previous to your examination. I adjure you to unburden your soul to me,  will you?  I will, my father.  Will you answer me, as you would answer at the tribunal of God?  Yes,  as I would answer at the tribunal of God. As she spake, she prostrated herself before the priest in the attitude of confession. And you have now disclosed the whole burden of your spirit?  I have, my father. The priest sat thoughtfully for a considerable time. He then put to her several singular questions relative to Melmoth, which she was wholly unable to answer. They seemed chiefly the result of those impressions of supernatural power and terror, which were every where associated with his image. My father, said Isidora, when he had ceased, in a faultering voice, My father, may I inquire about my unhappy parents? The priest shook his head, and remained silent. At length, affected by the agony with which she urged her inquiry, he reluctantly said she might guess the effect which the death of their son, and the imprisonment of their daughter in the Inquisition, must have on parents, who were no less eminent for their zeal for the Catholic faith, than for their parental affection. Are they alive? said Isidora.  Spare yourself the pain of further inquiries, daughter, said the priest, and be assured, that if the answer was such as could give you comfort, it would not be withheld. At this moment a bell was heard to sound in a distant part of the structure. That bell, said the priest, announces that the hour of your examination approaches  farewell, and may the saints be with you.  Stay, father,  stay one moment,  but one moment! cried Isidora, rushing franticly between him and the door. Fra Jose paused. Isidora sunk before him, and, hiding her face with her hands, exclaimed in a voice choaked with agony, Father, do you think  that I am  lost for ever?  Daughter, said the priest in heavy accents, and in a troubled and doubting spirit, Daughter,  I have given you what comfort I could  press for no more, lest what I have given (with many struggles of conscience) may be withdrawn. Perhaps you are in a state on which I can form no judgment, and pronounce no sentence. May God be merciful to you, and may the holy tribunal judge you in its mercy also.  Yet stay, father  stay one moment  only one moment  only one question more. As she spoke, she caught her pale and innocent companion from the pallet where it slept, and held it up to the priest. Father, tell me, can this be the child of a demon?  can it be, this creature that smiles on me  that smiles on you, while you are mustering curses against it?  Oh, holy drops have sprinkled it from your own hand!  Father, you have spoke holy words over it. Father, let them tear me with their pincers, let them roast me on their flames, but will not my child escape  my innocent child, that smiles on you?  Holy father, dear father, look back on your child. And she crawled after him on her knees, holding up the miserable infant in her arms, whose weak cry and wasted frame, pleaded against the dungeonlife to which its infancy had been doomed. Fra Jose melted at the appeal, and he was about to bestow many a kiss and many a prayer on the wretched babe, when the bell again was sounded, and hasting away, he had but time to exclaim, My daughter, may God protect you!  God protect me, said Isidora, clasping her infant to her bosom. The bell sounded again, and Isidora knew that the hour of her trial approached. Chapter 37 Fear not now the fevers fire, Fear not now the deathbed groan; Pangs that torture, pains that tire Bedrid age with feeble moan. MASON The first examination of Isidora was conducted with the circumspective formality that has always been known to mark the proceedings of that tribunal. The second and the third were alike strict, penetrating and inoperative, and the holy office began to feel its highest functionaries were no match for the extraordinary prisoner who stood before them, who, combining the extremes of simplicity and magnanimity, uttered every thing that might criminate herself, but evaded with skill that baffled all the arts of inquisitorial examination, every question that referred to Melmoth. In the course of the first examination, they hinted at the torture. Isidora, with something of the free and naturetaught dignity of her early existence, smiled as they spoke of it. An official whispered one of the inquisitors, as he observed the peculiar expression of her countenance, and the torture was mentioned no more. A second  a third examination followed at long intervals  but it was observed, that every time the mode of examination was less severe, and the treatment of the prisoner more and more indulgent  her youth, her beauty, her profound simplicity of character and language, developed strongly on this singular emergency, and the affecting circumstance of her always appearing with her child in her arms, whose feeble cries she tried to hush, while she bent forward to hear and answer the questions addressed to her  all these seemed to have wrought powerfully on the minds of men not accustomed to yield to external impressions. There was also a docility, a submission, about this beautiful and unfortunate being  a contrite and bending spirit  a sense of wretchedness for the misfortunes of her family  a consciousness of her own, that touched the hearts even of inquisitors. After repeated examinations, when nothing could be extorted from the prisoner, a skilful and profound artist in the school of mental anatomy, whispered to the inquisitor something about the infant whom she held in her arms. She has defied the rack, was the answer. Try her on that rack,was rejoined, and the hint was taken. After the usual formalities were gone through, Isidoras sentence was read to her. She was condemned, as a suspected heretic, to perpetual confinement in the prison of the Inquisition  her child was to be taken from her, and brought up in a convent, in order to  Here the reading of the sentence was interrupted by the prisoner, who, uttering one dreadful shriek of maternal agony, louder than any other mode of torture had ever before extorted, fell prostrate on the floor. When she was restored to sensation, no authority or terror of the place or the judges, could prevent her pouring forth those wild and piercing supplications, which, from the energy with which they are uttered, appear to the speaker himself like commands,  that the latter part of her sentence might be remitted  the former appeared to make not the least impression on her  eternal solitude, passed in eternal darkness, seemed to give her neither fear or pain, but she wept, and pleaded, and raved, that she might not be separated from her infant. The judges listened with fortified hearts, and in unbroken silence. When she found all was over, she rose from her posture of humiliation and agony  and there was something even of dignity about her as she demanded, in a calm and altered voice, that her child might not be removed from her till the following day. She had also selfpossession enough to enforce her petition by the remark, that its life might be the sacrifice if it was too suddenly deprived of the nourishment it was accustomed to receive from her. To this request the judges acceded, and she was remanded to her cell. The time elapsed. The person who brought her food departed without uttering a word; nor did she utter a word to him. It was about midnight that the door of her cell was unlocked, and two persons in official habits appeared at it. They seemed to pause, like the heralds at the tent of Achilles, and then, like them, forced themselves to enter. These men had haggard and livid faces  their attitudes were perfectly stony and automatonlike  their movements appeared the result of mere mechanism  yet these men were touched. The miserable light within hardly shewed the pallet on which the prisoner was seated; but a strong red light from the torch the attendant held, flared broadly on the arch of the door under which the figures appeared. They approached with a motion that seemed simultaneous and involuntary  and uttered together, in accents that seemed to issue from one mouth, Deliver your child to us. In a voice as hoarse, dry, and natureless, the prisoner answered, Take it! The men looked about the cell  it seemed as if they knew not where to find the offspring of humanity amid the cells of the Inquisition. The prisoner was silent and motionless during their search. It was not long  the narrow apartment, the scanty furniture, afforded little room for the investigation. When it was concluded, however, the prisoner, bursting into a wild laugh, exclaimed, Where would you search for a child but in its mothers bosom? Here  here it is  take it  take it! And she put it into their hands. Oh what fools ye were to seek my child any where but on its mothers bosom! It is yours now! she shrieked in a voice that froze the officials.  Take it  take it from me! The agents of the holy office advanced; and the technicality of their movements was somewhat suspended when Isidora placed in their hands the corse of her infant daughter. Around the throat of the miserable infant, born amid agony, and nursed in a dungeon, there was a black mark, which the officials made their use of in representing this extraordinary circumstance to the holy office. By some it was deemed as the sign impressed by the evil one at its birth  by others as the fearful effect of maternal despair. It was determined that the prisoner should appear before them within fourandtwenty hours, and account for the death of her child. Within less than half that number of hours, a mightier arm than that of the Inquisition was dealing with the prisoner  an arm that seemed to menace, but was indeed stretched out to save, and before whose touch the barriers of the dreaded Inquisition itself were as frail as the fortress of the spider who hung her web on its walls. Isidora was dying of a disease not the less mortal because it makes no appearance in an obituary  she was dying of that internal and incurable wound  a broken heart. When the inquisitors were at last convinced that there was nothing more to be obtained by torture, bodily or mental torture, they suffered her to die unmolested, and granted her last request, that Fra Jose might be permitted to visit her. It was midnight, but its approach was unknown in that place, where day and night are the same. A dim lamp was substituted for that weak and struggling beam that counterfeited daylight. The penitent was stretched on her bed of rest  the humane priest sat beside her; and if his presence gave no dignity to the scene, it at least softened it by the touches of humanity. My father, said the dying Isidora, you pronounced me forgiven.  Yes, my daughter, said the priest, you have assured me you are innocent of the death of your infant.  You never could have believed me guilty, said Isidora, raising herself on her pallet at the appeal  the consciousness of its existence alone would have kept me alive, even in my prison. Oh, my father, how was it possible it could live, buried with me in this dreadful place almost as soon as it respired? Even the morbid nourishment it received from me was dried up when my sentence was read. It moaned all night  towards morning its moans grew fainter, and I was glad  at last they ceased, and I was very  happy! But, as she talked of this fearful happiness, she wept. My daughter, is your heart disengaged from that awful and disastrous tie that bound it to misfortune here, and to perdition hereafter? It was long before she could answer; at length she said in a broken voice, My father, I have not now strength to search or to struggle with my heart. Death must very soon break every tie that was twined with it, and it is useless to anticipate my liberation; the effort would be agony  fruitless agony, for, while I live, I must love my destroyer! Alas! in being the enemy of mankind, was not his hostility to me inevitable and fatal? In rejecting his last terrible temptation  in resigning him to his destiny, and preferring submission to my own, I feel my triumph complete, and my salvation assured.  Daughter, I do not comprehend you,  Melmoth, said Isidora, with a strong effort, Melmoth was here last night  within the walls of the Inquisition  within this very cell! The priest crossed himself with marks of the profoundest horror, and, as the wind swept hollowly through the long passage, almost expected the shaken door would burst open, and disclose the figure of the Wanderer. My father, I have had many dreams, answered the penitent, shaking her head at a suggestion of the priests, many  many wanderings, but this was no dream. I have dreamed of the gardenland where I beheld him first  I have dreamed of the nights when he stood at my casement, and trembled in sleep at the sound of my mothers step  and I have had holy and hopeful visions, in which celestial forms appeared to me, and promised me his conversion  but this was no dream  I saw him last night. Father, he was here the whole night  he promised  he assured me  he adjured me to accept of liberation and safety, of life and of felicity. He told me, nor could I doubt him, that, by whatever means he effected his entrance, he could also effect my escape. He offered to live with me in that Indian isle  that paradise of ocean, far from human resort or human persecution. He offered to love me alone, and for ever  and then I listened to him. Oh, my father, I am very young, and life and love sounded sweetly in my ears, when I looked at my dungeon, and thought of dying on this floor of stone! But  when he whispered the terrible condition on which the fulfilment of his promise depended  when he told me that  Her voice failed with her failing strength, and she could utter no more. Daughter, said the priest, bending over her bed, daughter, I adjure you, by the image represented on this cross I hold to your dying lips  by your hopes of that salvation which depends on the truth you utter to me, your priest and your friend  the conditions proposed by your tempter! Promise me absolution for repeating the words, for I should wish that my last breath might not be exhaled in uttering  what I must.  Te absolvo, c. said the priest, and bent his ear to catch the sounds. The moment they were uttered, he started as from the sting of a serpent, and, seating himself at the extremity of the cell, rocked in dumb horror. My father, you promised me absolution, said the penitent, Jam tibi dedi, moribunda, answered the priest, in the confusion of thoughts using the language appropriated to the service of religion. Moribunda indeed! said the sufferer, falling back on her pallet, Father, let me feel a human hand in mine as I part!  Call upon God, daughter! said the priest, applying the crucifix to her cold lips.


I loved his religion, said the penitent, kissing it devoutly, I loved it before I knew it, and God must have been my teacher, for I had no other! Oh! she exclaimed, with that deep conviction that must thrill every dying heart, and whose echo (would God) might pierce every living one  Oh that I had loved none but God  how profound would have been my peace  how glorious my departure  now  his image pursues me even to the brink of the grave, into which I plunge to escape it! My daughter, said the priest, while the tears rolled fast down his cheeks  my daughter, you are passing to bliss  the conflict was fierce and short, but the victory is sure  harps are tuned to a new song, even a song of welcome, and wreaths of palm are weaving for you in paradise! Paradise! uttered Isidora, with her last breath  Will he be there! Chapter 38 Loud tolled the bell, the priests prayed well, The tapers they all burned bright, The monk her son, and her daughter the nun, They told their beads all night!     The second night      The monk and the nun they told their beads As fast as they could tell, And aye the louder grew the noise, The faster went the bell!     The third night came      The monk and the nun forgot their beads, They fell to the ground dismayed, There was not a single saint in heaven Whom they did not call to their aid! SOUTHEY Monada here concluded the tale of the Indian,  the victim of Melmoths passion, no less than of his destiny, both alike unhallowed and unutterable. And he announced his intention of disclosing to him the fates of the other victims, whose skeletons were preserved in the vault of the Jew Adonijah in Madrid. He added, that the circumstances relating to them, were of a character still darker and more awful than those he had recited, as they were the result of impressions made on masculine minds, without any excitement but that of looking into futurity. He mentioned, too, that the circumstances of his residence in the house of the Jew, his escape from it, and the reasons of his subsequent arrival in Ireland, were scarcely less extraordinary than any thing he had hitherto related. Young Melmoth, (whose name perhaps the reader has forgot), did seriously incline to the purpose of having his dangerous curiosity further gratified, nor was he perhaps altogether without the wild hope of seeing the original of that portrait he had destroyed, burst from the walls and take up the fearful tale himself. The narrative of the Spaniard had occupied many days; at their termination, young Melmoth signified to his guest that he was prepared to hear the sequel. A night was fixed for the continuation of the recital. Young Melmoth and his guest met in the usual apartment  it was a dreary, stormy night  the rain that had fallen all day, seemed now to have yielded to the wind, that came in strong and sudden bursts, suddenly hushed, as if collecting strength for the tempest of the night. Monada and Melmoth drew their chairs closer to the fire, looking at each other with the aspect of men who wish to inspire each other with courage to listen, and to tell, and are the more eager to inspire it, because neither feels it himself. At length Monada collected his voice and resolution to proceed, but as he went on, he perceived he could not fix his hearers attention, and he paused. I thought, said Melmoth, answering his silence, I thought I heard a noise  as of a person walking in the passage. Hush! and listen, said Monada, I would not wish to be overheard. They paused and held their breath  the sound was renewed  it was evidently that of steps approaching the door, and then retiring from it. We are watched, said Melmoth, halfrising from his chair, but at that moment the door opened, and a figure appeared at it, which Monada recognized for the subject of his narrative, and his mysterious visitor in the prison of the Inquisition, and Melmoth for the original of the picture, and the being whose unaccountable appearance had filled him with consternation, as he sat beside his dying uncles bed. The figure stood at the door for some time, and then advancing slowly till it gained the centre of the room, it remained there fixed for some time, but without looking at them. It then approached the table where they sat, in a slow but distinctly heard step, and stood before them as a living being. The profound horror that was equally felt by both, was differently expressed by each. Monada crossed himself repeatedly, and attempted to utter many prayers. Melmoth, nailed to his chair, fixed his sightless eyes on the form that stood before him  it was indeed Melmoth the Wanderer  the same as he was in the past century  the same as he may be in centuries to come, should the fearful terms of his existence be renewed. His natural force was not abated, but his eye was dim,  that appalling and supernatural lustre of the visual organ, that beacon lit by an infernal fire, to tempt or to warn the adventurers of despair from that coast on which many struck, and some sunk  that portentous light was no longer visible  the form and figure were those of a living man, of the age indicated in the portrait which the young Melmoth had destroyed, but the eyes were as the eyes of the dead. As the Wanderer advanced still nearer till his figure touched the table, Monada and Melmoth started up in irrepressible horror, and stood in attitudes of defence, though conscious at the moment that all defence was hopeless against a being that withered and mocked at human power. The Wanderer waved his arm with an action that spoke defiance without hostility  and the strange and solemn accents of the only human voice that had respired mortal air beyond the period of mortal life, and never spoken but to the ear of guilt or suffering, and never uttered to that ear aught but despair, rolled slowly on their hearing like a peal of distant thunder. Mortals  you are here to talk of my destiny, and of the events which it has involved. That destiny is accomplished, I believe, and with it terminate those events that have stimulated your wild and wretched curiosity. I am here to tell you of both!  I I of whom you speak, am here!  Who can tell so well of Melmoth the Wanderer as himself, now that he is about to resign that existence which has been the object of terror and wonder to the world?  Melmoth, you behold your ancestor  the being on whose portrait is inscribed the date of a century and a half, is before you.  Monada, you see an acquaintance of a later date.  (A grim smile of recognition wandered over his features as he spoke).  Fear nothing, he added, observing the agony and terror of his involuntary hearers  What have you to fear? he continued, while a flash of derisive malignity once more lit up the sockets of his dead eyes  You, Senhor, are armed with your beads  and you, Melmoth, are fortified by that vain and desperate inquisitiveness, which might, at a former period, have made you my victim,  (and his features underwent a short but horrible convulsion)  but now makes you only my mockery. Have you aught to quench my thirst? he added, seating himself. The senses of Monada and his companion reeled in delirious terror, and the former, in a kind of wild confidence, filled a glass of water, and offered it to the Wanderer with a hand as steady, but somewhat colder, as he would have presented it to one who sat beside him in human companionship. The Wanderer raised it to his lips, and tasted a few drops, then replacing it on the table, said with a laugh, wild indeed, but no longer ferocious  Have you seen, said he to Monada and Melmoth, who gazed with dim and troubled sight on this vision, and wist not what to think  Have you seen the fate of Don Juan, not as he is pantomimed on your paltry stage, but as he is represented in the real horrors of his destiny by the Spanish writer?66 There the spectre returns the hospitality of his inviter, and summons him in turn to a feast.  The banquethall is a church  he arrives  it is illuminated with a mysterious light  invisible hands hold lamps fed by no earthly substance, to light the apostate to his doom!  He enters the church, and is greeted by a numerous company  the spirits of those whom he has wronged and murdered, uprisen from their charnel, and swathed in shrouds, stand there to welcome him!  As he passes among them, they call on him in hollow sounds to pledge them in goblets of blood which they present to him  and beneath the altar, by which stands the spirit of him whom the parricide has murdered, the gulph of perdition is yawning to receive him!  Through such a band I must soon prepare to pass!  Isidora! thy form will be the last I must encounter  and  the most terrible! Now for the last drop I must taste of earths produce  the last that shall wet my mortal lips! He slowly finished the draught of water. Neither of his companions had the power to speak. He sat down in a posture of heavy musing, and neither ventured to interrupt him. They kept silence till the morning was dawning, and a faint light streamed through the closed shutters. Then the Wanderer raised his heavy eyes, and fixed them on Melmoth. Your ancestor has come home, he said; his wanderings are over!  What has been told or believed of me is now of light avail to me. The secret of my destiny rests with myself. If all that fear has invented, and credulity believed of me be true, to what does it amount? That if my crimes have exceeded those of mortality, so will my punishment. I have been on earth a terror, but not an evil to its inhabitants. None can participate in my destiny but with his own consent  none have consented  none can be involved in its tremendous penalties, but by participation. I alone must sustain the penalty. If I have put forth my hand, and eaten of the fruit of the interdicted tree, am I not driven from the presence of God and the region of paradise, and sent to wander amid worlds of barrenness and curse for ever and ever? It has been reported of me, that I obtained from the enemy of souls a range of existence beyond the period allotted to mortality  a power to pass over space without disturbance or delay, and visit remote regions with the swiftness of thought  to encounter tempests without the hope of their blasting me, and penetrate into dungeons, whose bolts were as flax and tow at my touch. It has been said that this power was accorded to me, that I might be enabled to tempt wretches in their fearful hour of extremity, with the promise of deliverance and immunity, on condition of their exchanging situations with me. If this be true, it bears attestation to a truth uttered by the lips of one I may not name, and echoed by every human heart in the habitable world. No one has ever exchanged destinies with Melmoth the Wanderer. I have traversed the world in the search, and no one, to gain that world, would lose his own soul!  Not Stanton in his cell  nor you, Monada, in the prison of the Inquisition  nor Walberg, who saw his children perishing with want  nor  another  He paused, and though on the verge of his dark and doubtful voyage, he seemed to cast one look of bitter and retrospective anguish on the receding shore of life, and see, through the mists of memory, one form that stood there to bid him farewell. He rose  Let me, if possible, obtain an hours repose. Aye, repose  sleep! he repeated, answering the silent astonishment of his hearers looks, my existence is still human!  and a ghastly and derisive smile wandered over his features for the last time, as he spoke. How often had that smile frozen the blood of his victims! Melmoth and Monada quitted the apartment; and the Wanderer, sinking back in his chair, slept profoundly. He slept, but what were the visions of his last earthly slumber? The Wanderers Dream He dreamed that he stood on the summit of a precipice, whose downward height no eye could have measured, but for the fearful waves of a fiery ocean that lashed, and blazed, and roared at its bottom, sending its burning spray far up, so as to drench the dreamer with its sulphurous rain. The whole glowing ocean below was alive  every billow bore an agonizing soul, that rose like a wreck or a putrid corse on the waves of earths oceans  uttered a shriek as it burst against that adamantine precipice  sunk  and rose again to repeat the tremendous experiment! Every billow of fire was thus instinct with immortal and agonizing existence,  each was freighted with a soul, that rose on the burning wave in torturing hope, burst on the rock in despair, added its eternal shriek to the roar of that fiery ocean, and sunk to rise again  in vain, and  for ever! Suddenly the Wanderer felt himself flung halfway down the precipice. He stood, in his dream, tottering on a crag midway down the precipice  he looked upward, but the upper air (for there was no heaven) showed only blackness unshadowed and impenetrable  but, blacker than that blackness, he could distinguish a gigantic outstretched arm, that held him as in sport on the ridge of that infernal precipice, while another, that seemed in its motions to hold fearful and invisible conjunction with the arm that grasped him, as if both belonged to some being too vast and horrible even for the imagery of a dream to shape, pointed upwards to a dialplate fixed on the top of that precipice, and which the flashes of that ocean of fire made fearfully conspicuous. He saw the mysterious single hand revolve  he saw it reach the appointed period of 150 years  (for in this mystic plate centuries were marked, not hours)  he shrieked in his dream, and, with that strong impulse often felt in sleep, burst from the arm that held him, to arrest the motion of the hand. In the effort he fell, and falling grasped at aught that might save him. His fall seemed perpendicular  there was nought to save him  the rock was as smooth as ice  the ocean of fire broke at its foot! Suddenly a groupe of figures appeared, ascending as he fell. He grasped at them successively;  first Stanton  then Walberg  Elinor Mortimer  Isidora  Monada  all passed him,  to each he seemed in his slumber to cling in order to break his fall  all ascended the precipice. He caught at each in his downward flight, but all forsook him and ascended. His last despairing reverted glance was fixed on the clock of eternity  the upraised black arm seemed to push forward the hand  it arrived at its period  he fell  he sunk  he blazed  he shrieked! The burning waves boomed over his sinking head, and the clock of eternity rung out its awful chime  Room for the soul of the Wanderer!  and the waves of the burning ocean answered, as they lashed the adamantine rock  There is room for more!  The Wanderer awoke. Chapter 39 And in he came with eyes of flame, The fiend to fetch the dead. SOUTHEYS Old Woman of Berkeley Melmoth and Monada did not dare to approach the door till about noon. They then knocked gently at the door, and finding the summons unanswered, they entered slowly and irresolutely. The apartment was in the same state in which they had left it the preceding night, or rather morning; it was dusky and silent, the shutters had not been opened, and the Wanderer still seemed sleeping in his chair. At the sound of their approach he halfstarted up, and demanded what was the hour. They told him. My hour is come, said the Wanderer, it is an hour you must neither partake or witness  the clock of eternity is about to strike, but its knell must be unheard by mortal ears! As he spoke they approached nearer, and saw with horror the change the last few hours had wrought on him. The fearful lustre of his eyes had been deadened before their late interview, but now the lines of extreme age were visible in every feature. His hairs were as white as snow, his mouth had fallen in, the muscles of his face were relaxed and withered  he was the very image of hoary decrepid debility. He started himself at the impression which his appearance visibly made on the intruders. You see what I feel, he exclaimed, the hour then is come. I am summoned, and I must obey the summons  my master has other work for me! When a meteor blazes in your atmosphere  when a comet pursues its burning path towards the sun  look up, and perhaps you may think of the spirit condemned to guide the blazing and erratic orb. The spirits, that had risen to a kind of wild elation, as suddenly subsided, and he added, Leave me, I must be alone for the few last hours of my mortal existence  if indeed they are to be the last. He spoke this with an inward shuddering, that was felt by his hearers. In this apartment, he continued, I first drew breath, in this I must perhaps resign it,  would  would I had never been born! Men  retire  leave me alone. Whatever noises you hear in the course of the awful night that is approaching, come not near this apartment, at peril of your lives. Remember, raising his voice, which still retained all its powers, remember your lives will be the forfeit of your desperate curiosity. For the same stake I risked more than life  and lost it!  Be warned  retire! They retired, and passed the remainder of that day without even thinking of food, from that intense and burning anxiety that seemed to prey on their very vitals. At night they retired, and though each lay down, it was without a thought of repose. Repose indeed would have been impossible. The sounds that soon after midnight began to issue from the apartment of the Wanderer, were at first of a description not to alarm, but they were soon exchanged for others of such indescribable horror, that Melmoth, though he had taken the precaution of dismissing the servants to sleep in the adjacent offices, began to fear that those sounds might reach them, and, restless himself from insupportable inquietude, rose and walked up and down the passage that led to that room of horror. As he was thus occupied, he thought he saw a figure at the lower end of the passage. So disturbed was his vision, that he did not at first recognize Monada. Neither asked the other the reason of his being there  they walked up and down together silently. In a short time the sounds became so terrible, that scarcely had the awful warning of the Wanderer power to withhold them from attempting to burst into the room. These noises were of the most mixed and indescribable kind. They could not distinguish whether they were the shrieks of supplication, or the yell of blasphemy  they hoped inwardly they might be the former. Towards morning the sounds suddenly ceased  they were stilled as in a moment. The silence that succeeded seemed to them for a few moments more terrible than all that preceded. After consulting each other by a glance, they hastened together to the apartment. They entered  it was empty  not a vestige of its last inhabitant was to be traced within. After looking around in fruitless amazement, they perceived a small door opposite to that by which they had entered. It communicated with a back staircase, and was open. As they approached it, they discovered the traces of footsteps that appeared to be those of a person who had been walking in damp sand or clay. These traces were exceedingly plain  they followed them to a door that opened on the garden  that door was open also. They traced the footmarks distinctly through the narrow gravel walk, which was terminated by a broken fence, and opened on a heathy field which spread halfway up a rock whose summit overlooked the sea. The weather had been rainy, and they could trace the steps distinctly through that heathy field. They ascended the rock together. Early as it was, the cottagers, who were poor fishermen residing on the shore, were all up, and assuring Melmoth and his companion that they had been disturbed and terrified the preceding night by sounds which they could not describe. It was singular that these men, accustomed by nature and habit alike to exaggeration and superstition, used not the language of either on this occasion. There is an overwhelming mass of conviction that falls on the mind, that annihilates idiom and peculiarities, and crushes out truth from the heart. Melmoth waved back all who offered to accompany him to the precipice which overhung the sea. Monada alone followed him. Through the furze that clothed this rock, almost to its summit, there was a kind of tract as if a person had dragged, or been dragged, his way through it  a downtrodden track, over which no footsteps but those of one impelled by force had ever passed. Melmoth and Monada gained at last the summit of the rock. The ocean was beneath  the wide, waste, engulphing ocean! On a crag beneath them, something hung as floating to the blast. Melmoth clambered down and caught it. It was the handkerchief which the Wanderer had worn about his neck the preceding night  that was the last trace of the Wanderer! Melmoth and Monada exchanged looks of silent and unutterable horror, and returned slowly home. A quick note Hi! I'm Julie, the woman who runs Global Grey  the website where this ebook was published for free. These are my own editions, and I hope you enjoyed reading this particular one. To support the site, and to allow me to continue offering these quality (and completely free) ebooks, please think about donating a small amount (if you already have  thank you!). It helps with the site costs, and any amount is appreciated. Thanks for reading this and I really hope you visit Global Grey again  new books are added regularly so you'll always find something of interest ) Notes [1] Mrs Marshall, the original Roxana in Lees Alexander, and the only virtuous woman then on the stage. She was carried off in the manner described, by Lord Orrery, who, finding all his solicitations repelled, had recourse to a sham marriage performed by a servant in the habit of a clergyman. [2] Vide Pope, (copying from Donne).Peace, fools, or Gonson will for Papists seize you,If once he catch you at your Jesu, Jesu. [3] Vide the Old Bachelor, whose Araminta, wearied by the repetition of these phrases, forbids her lover to address her in any sentence commencing with them. [4] Vide any old play you may have the patience to peruse; or, instar omnium,read the courtly loves of Rhodophil and Melantha, Palamede and Doralice, in Drydens Marriage a la Mode. [5] Vide Southerns Oroonoko,  I mean the comic part. [6] A charm, a song, a murder, and a ghost.Prologue to Oedipus. [7] Vide Le Blancs Letters. [8] Vide Bettertons History of the Stage. [9] Rochefoucault. [10] Vide Cutter of Coleman street. [11] A fact, related to me by a person who was near committing suicide in a similar situation, to escape what he called the excruciating torture of giddiness. [12] See Henry IV. Second Part. [13] Fire for the cigars, and icedwater for drink.  A cry often heard in Madrid. [14] Vide Buffa  Anachronism prepense. [15] Vide Madame Genliss Julien Delmour. [16] Vide Mosheims Ecclesiastical History for the truth of this part of the narrative. I have suppressed circumstances in the original too horrible for modern ears. [17] This expression is not exaggerated. In the dreams of sorcery, or of imposture, the evil spirit was supposed to perform a mass in derision; and in Beaumont and Fletcher there is mention of howling a black Santis, i.e.Satans mass. [18] We do not venture to guess at the horrors of this whisper, but every one conversant with ecclesiastical history knows, that Tetzel offered indulgences in Germany, even on the condition that the sinner had been guilty of the impossible crime of violating the mother of God. [19] Something between a bully and a rake. [20] Vide Moores View of France and Italy. [21] Fact,  me ipso teste. [22] Vide Charlevoixs History of Paraguay. [23] This is a fact well established. [24] I have read this somewhere, but cannot believe it. Coaches are mentioned by Beaumont and Fletcher, and even glasscoaches by Butler, in his Remains. [25] This circumstance is related, I believe, in the Jewish Spy. [26] Flames reversed, intimating that the criminal is not to be burned. [27] The passion of the late king of Spain for field sports was well known. [28] Quilibet postea paterfamilias, cum gallo pr manibus, in medium primus prodit. [29] The Jews believe in two Messias, a suffering and a triumphant one, to reconcile the prophecies with their own expectations. [30] This extraordinary fact occurred after the dreadful fire which consumed sixteen persons in one house, in Stephens Green, Dublin, 1816. The writer of this heard the screams of sufferers whom it was impossible to save, for an hour and a half. [31] This circumstance occurred in Ireland 1797, after the murder of the unfortunate Dr Hamilton. The officer was answered, on inquiring what was that heap of mud at his horses feet,  The man you came for. [32] In the year 1803, when Emmetts insurrection broke out in Dublin  (the fact from which this account is drawn was related to me by an eyewitness)  Lord Kilwarden, in passing through Thomas Street, was dragged from his carriage, and murdered in the most horrid manner. Pike after pike was thrust through his body, till at last he was nailed to a door, and called out to his murderers to put him out of his pain. At this moment, a shoemaker, who lodged in the garret of an opposite house, was drawn to the window by the horrible cries he heard. He stood at the window, gasping with horror, his wife attempting vainly to drag him away. He saw the last blow struck  he heard the last groan uttered, as the sufferer cried, put me out of pain, while sixty pikes were thrusting at him. The man stood at his window as if nailed to it; and when dragged from it, became  an idiot for life. [33] Written mountains, i.e. rocks inscribed with characters recordative of some remarkable event, are well known to every oriental traveller. I think it is in the notes of Dr Coke, on the book of Exodus, that I have met with the circumstance alluded to above. A rock near the Red Sea is said once to have borne the inscription, Israel hath passed the flood. [34] Vide Maurices Indian Antiquities. [35] The Cupid of the Indian mythology. [36] The Indian Apollo. [37] The curtain behind which women are concealed. [38] From the fireflies being so often found in the nest of the loxia, the Indians imagine he illuminates his nest with them. It is more likely they are the food of his young. [39] Intellige buildings. [40] Tippoo Saib wished to substitute the Mohamedan for the Indian mythology throughout his dominions. This circumstance, though long antedated, is therefore imaginable. [41] I trust the absurdity of this quotation here will be forgiven for its beauty. It is borrowed from Miss Baillie, the first dramatic poet of the age. [42] As, by a mode of criticism equally false and unjust, the worst sentiments of my worst characters, (from the ravings of Bertram to the blasphemies of Cardonneau), have been represented as my own, I must here trespass so far on the patience of the reader as to assure him, that the sentiments ascribed to the stranger are diametrically opposite to mine, and that I have purposely put them into the mouth of an agent of the enemy of mankind. [43] The Catholics and Protestants were thus distinguished in the wars of the League. [44] Catholics. [45] Protestants. [46] Dissenters. [47] Ireland. [48] I have read the legend of this Polish saint, which is circulated in Dublin, and find recorded among the indisputable proofs of his vocation, that he infallibly swooned if an indecent expression was uttered in his presence  when in his nurses arms! [49] Vide Don Quixote, Vol. II. Smollets Translation. [50] Here Monada expressed his surprise at this passage, (as savouring more of Christianity than Judaism), considering it occurred in the manuscript of a Jew. [51] Fact,  it occurred in a French family not many years ago. [52] Vide Cervantes, apud Don Quixote de Collibus Ubed. [53] Vide Jonsons play, in which is introduced a Puritan preacher, a Banbury man, named Zealoftheland Busy. [54] I have been an inmate in this castle for many months  it is still inhabited by the venerable descendant of that ancient family. His son is now HighSheriff of the Kings county. Half the castle was battered down by Oliver Cromwells forces, and rebuilt in the reign of Charles the Second. The remains of the castle are a tower of about forty feet square, and five stories high, with a single spacious apartment on each floor, and a narrow staircase communicating with each, and reaching to the bartizan. A beautiful ashplant, which I have often admired, is now displaying its foliage between the stones of the bartizan,  and how it got or grew there, heaven only knows. There it is, however; and it is better to see it there than to feel the discharge of hot water or molten lead from the apertures. [55] See a comedy of Wycherlys, entitled, Love in a Wood, or St Jamess Park, where the company are represented going there at night in masks, and with torches. [56] Taylors Book of Martyrs. [57] Anachronism  nimporte. [58] In Cowleys Cutter of Coleman Street, Mrs Tabitha, a rigid Puritan, tells her husband she had danced the Canaries in her youth. And in Rushworths Collections, if I remember right, Prynne vindicates himself from the charge of a general denunciation against dancing, and even speaks of the Measures, a stately, solemn dance, with some approbation. [59] As this whole scene is taken from fact, I subjoin the notes whose modulation is so simple, and whose effect was so profound. [60] Ireland,  forsan. [61] Vide Dillons travels through Spain. [62] The celebrated manufactory for glass in Spain. [63] He called unto me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night?  Watchman, what of the night?  ISAIAH. [64] Vide the beautiful tale of Auheta the Princess of Egypt, and Maugraby the Sorcerer, in the Arabian Tales. [65] From this it should seem that they were unacquainted with the story of Elinor Mortimer. [66] Vide the original play, of which there is a curious and very obsolete translation.


THE MONK A ROMANCE BY MATTHEW LEWIS 1796 The Monk A Romance By Matthew Lewis. This edition was created and published by Global Grey GlobalGrey 2018 globalgreyebooks.com Contents Preface Advertisement Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Preface IMITATION OF HORACE Ep. 20.  B. 1. Methinks, Oh! vain illjudging Book, I see thee cast a wishful look, Where reputations won and lost are In famous row called Paternoster. Incensed to find your precious olio Buried in unexplored portfolio, You scorn the prudent lock and key, And pant well bound and gilt to see Your Volume in the window set Of Stockdale, Hookham, or Debrett. Go then, and pass that dangerous bourn Whence never Book can back return And when you find, condemned, despised, Neglected, blamed, and criticised, Abuse from All who read you fall, (If haply you be read at all Sorely will you your folly sigh at, And wish for me, and home, and quiet. Assuming now a conjurors office, I Thus on your future Fortune prophesy Soon as your novelty is oer, And you are young and new no more, In some dark dirty corner thrown, Mouldy with damps, with cobwebs strown, Your leaves shall be the Bookworms prey; Or sent to ChandlerShop away, And doomed to suffer public scandal, Shall line the trunk, or wrap the candle! But should you meet with approbation, And some one find an inclination To ask, by natural transition Respecting me and my condition; That I am one, the enquirer teach, Nor very poor, nor very rich; Of passions strong, of hasty nature, Of graceless form and dwarfish stature; By few approved, and few approving; Extreme in hating and in loving; Abhorring all whom I dislike, Adoring who my fancy strike; In forming judgements never long, And for the most part judging wrong; In friendship firm, but still believing Others are treacherous and deceiving, And thinking in the present aera That Friendship is a pure chimaera More passionate no creature living, Proud, obstinate, and unforgiving, But yet for those who kindness show, Ready through fire and smoke to go. Again, should it be asked your page, Pray, what may be the authors age? Your faults, no doubt, will make it clear, I scarce have seen my twentieth year, Which passed, kind Reader, on my word, While Englands Throne held George the Third. Now then your venturous course pursue Go, my delight! Dear Book, adieu! Hague,Oct. 28, 1794.M. G. L. Advertisement The first idea of this Romance was suggested by the story of the Santon Barsisa, related in The Guardian.  The Bleeding Nun is a tradition still credited in many parts of Germany; and I have been told that the ruins of the Castle of Lauenstein, which She is supposed to haunt, may yet be seen upon the borders of Thuringia.  The WaterKing, from the third to the twelfth stanza, is the fragment of an original Danish Ballad  And Belerma and Durandarte is translated from some stanzas to be found in a collection of old Spanish poetry, which contains also the popular song of Gayferos and Melesindra, mentioned in Don Quixote.  I have now made a full avowal of all the plagiarisms of which I am aware myself; but I doubt not, many more may be found, of which I am at present totally unconscious. Chapter 1  Lord Angelo is precise; Stands at a guard with envy; Scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone. Measure for Measure. Scarcely had the Abbey Bell tolled for five minutes, and already was the Church of the Capuchins thronged with Auditors. Do not encourage the idea that the Crowd was assembled either from motives of piety or thirst of information. But very few were influenced by those reasons; and in a city where superstition reigns with such despotic sway as in Madrid, to seek for true devotion would be a fruitless attempt. The Audience now assembled in the Capuchin Church was collected by various causes, but all of them were foreign to the ostensible motive. The Women came to show themselves, the Men to see the Women Some were attracted by curiosity to hear an Orator so celebrated; Some came because they had no better means of employing their time till the play began; Some, from being assured that it would be impossible to find places in the Church; and one half of Madrid was brought thither by expecting to meet the other half. The only persons truly anxious to hear the Preacher were a few antiquated devotees, and half a dozen rival Orators, determined to find fault with and ridicule the discourse. As to the remainder of the Audience, the Sermon might have been omitted altogether, certainly without their being disappointed, and very probably without their perceiving the omission. Whatever was the occasion, it is at least certain that the Capuchin Church had never witnessed a more numerous assembly. Every corner was filled, every seat was occupied. The very Statues which ornamented the long aisles were pressed into the service. Boys suspended themselves upon the wings of Cherubims; St. Francis and St. Mark bore each a spectator on his shoulders; and St. Agatha found herself under the necessity of carrying double. The consequence was, that in spite of all their hurry and expedition, our two newcomers, on entering the Church, looked round in vain for places. However, the old Woman continued to move forwards. In vain were exclamations of displeasure vented against her from all sides In vain was She addressed with  I assure you, Segnora, there are no places here.  I beg, Segnora, that you will not crowd me so intolerably!  Segnora, you cannot pass this way. Bless me! How can people be so troublesome!  The old Woman was obstinate, and on She went. By dint of perseverance and two brawny arms She made a passage through the Crowd, and managed to bustle herself into the very body of the Church, at no great distance from the Pulpit. Her companion had followed her with timidity and in silence, profiting by the exertions of her conductress. Holy Virgin! exclaimed the old Woman in a tone of disappointment, while She threw a glance of enquiry round her; Holy Virgin! What heat! What a Crowd! I wonder what can be the meaning of all this. I believe we must return There is no such thing as a seat to be had, and nobody seems kind enough to accommodate us with theirs. This broad hint attracted the notice of two Cavaliers, who occupied stools on the right hand, and were leaning their backs against the seventh column from the Pulpit. Both were young, and richly habited. Hearing this appeal to their politeness pronounced in a female voice, they interrupted their conversation to look at the speaker. She had thrown up her veil in order to take a clearer look round the Cathedral. Her hair was red, and She squinted. The Cavaliers turned round, and renewed their conversation. By all means, replied the old Womans companion; By all means, Leonella, let us return home immediately; The heat is excessive, and I am terrified at such a crowd. These words were pronounced in a tone of unexampled sweetness. The Cavaliers again broke off their discourse, but for this time they were not contented with looking up Both started involuntarily from their seats, and turned themselves towards the Speaker. The voice came from a female, the delicacy and elegance of whose figure inspired the Youths with the most lively curiosity to view the face to which it belonged. This satisfaction was denied them. Her features were hidden by a thick veil; But struggling through the crowd had deranged it sufficiently to discover a neck which for symmetry and beauty might have vied with the Medicean Venus. It was of the most dazzling whiteness, and received additional charms from being shaded by the tresses of her long fair hair, which descended in ringlets to her waist. Her figure was rather below than above the middle size It was light and airy as that of an Hamadryad. Her bosom was carefully veiled. Her dress was white; it was fastened by a blue sash, and just permitted to peep out from under it a little foot of the most delicate proportions. A chaplet of large grains hung upon her arm, and her face was covered with a veil of thick black gauze. Such was the female, to whom the youngest of the Cavaliers now offered his seat, while the other thought it necessary to pay the same attention to her companion. The old Lady with many expressions of gratitude, but without much difficulty, accepted the offer, and seated herself The young one followed her example, but made no other compliment than a simple and graceful reverence. Don Lorenzo (such was the Cavaliers name, whose seat She had accepted) placed himself near her; But first He whispered a few words in his Friends ear, who immediately took the hint, and endeavoured to draw off the old Womans attention from her lovely charge. You are doubtless lately arrived at Madrid, said Lorenzo to his fair Neighbour; It is impossible that such charms should have long remained unobserved; and had not this been your first public appearance, the envy of the Women and adoration of the Men would have rendered you already sufficiently remarkable. He paused, in expectation of an answer. As his speech did not absolutely require one, the Lady did not open her lips After a few moments He resumed his discourse Am I wrong in supposing you to be a Stranger to Madrid? The Lady hesitated; and at last, in so low a voice as to be scarcely intelligible, She made shift to answer,  No, Segnor. Do you intend making a stay of any length? Yes, Segnor. I should esteem myself fortunate, were it in my power to contribute to making your abode agreeable. I am well known at Madrid, and my Family has some interest at Court. If I can be of any service, you cannot honour or oblige me more than by permitting me to be of use to you.  Surely, said He to himself, She cannot answer that by a monosyllable; now She must say something to me. Lorenzo was deceived, for the Lady answered only by a bow. By this time He had discovered that his Neighbour was not very conversible; But whether her silence proceeded from pride, discretion, timidity, or idiotism, He was still unable to decide. After a pause of some minutes  It is certainly from your being a Stranger, said He, and as yet unacquainted with our customs, that you continue to wear your veil. Permit me to remove it. At the same time He advanced his hand towards the Gauze The Lady raised hers to prevent him. I never unveil in public, Segnor. And where is the harm, I pray you? interrupted her Companion somewhat sharply; Do not you see that the other Ladies have all laid their veils aside, to do honour no doubt to the holy place in which we are? I have taken off mine already; and surely if I expose my features to general observation, you have no cause to put yourself in such a wonderful alarm! Blessed Maria! Here is a fuss and a bustle about a chits face! Come, come, Child! Uncover it; I warrant you that nobody will run away with it from you   Dear aunt, it is not the custom in Murcia. Murcia, indeed! Holy St. Barbara, what does that signify? You are always putting me in mind of that villainous Province. If it is the custom in Madrid, that is all that we ought to mind, and therefore I desire you to take off your veil immediately. Obey me this moment Antonia, for you know that I cannot bear contradiction   Her niece was silent, but made no further opposition to Don Lorenzos efforts, who, armed with the Aunts sanction hastened to remove the Gauze. What a Seraphs head presented itself to his admiration! Yet it was rather bewitching than beautiful; It wasnot so lovely from regularity of features as from sweetness and sensibility of Countenance. The several parts of her face considered separately, many of them were far from handsome; but when examined together, the whole was adorable. Her skin though fair was not entirely without freckles; Her eyes were not very large, nor their lashes particularly long. But then her lips were of the most rosy freshness; Her fair and undulating hair, confined by a simple ribband, poured itself below her waist in a profusion of ringlets; Her throat was full and beautiful in the extreme; Her hand and arm were formed with the most perfect symmetry; Her mild blue eyes seemed an heaven of sweetness, and the crystal in which they moved sparkled with all the brilliance of Diamonds She appeared to be scarcely fifteen; An arch smile, playing round her mouth, declared her to be possessed of liveliness, which excess of timidity at present represt; She looked round her with a bashful glance; and whenever her eyes accidentally met Lorenzos, She dropt them hastily upon her Rosary; Her cheek was immediately suffused with blushes, and She began to tell her beads; though her manner evidently showed that She knew not what She was about. Lorenzo gazed upon her with mingled surprise and admiration; but the Aunt thought it necessary to apologize for Antonias mauvaise honte. Tis a young Creature, said She, who is totally ignorant of the world. She has been brought up in an old Castle in Murcia; with no other Society than her Mothers, who, God help her! has no more sense, good Soul, than is necessary to carry her Soup to her mouth. Yet She is my own Sister, both by Father and Mother. And has so little sense? said Don Christoval with feigned astonishment; How very Extraordinary! Very true, Segnor; Is it not strange? However, such is the fact; and yet only to see the luck of some people! A young Nobleman, of the very first quality, took it into his head that Elvira had some pretensions to Beauty  As to pretensions, in truth, She had always enough of THEM; But as to Beauty . . . .! If I had only taken half the pains to set myself off which She did . . . .! But this is neither here nor there. As I was saying, Segnor, a young Nobleman fell in love with her, and married her unknown to his Father. Their union remained a secret near three years, But at last it came to the ears of the old Marquis, who, as you may well suppose, was not much pleased with the intelligence. Away He posted in all haste to Cordova, determined to seize Elvira, and send her away to some place or other, where She would never be heard of more. Holy St. Paul! How He stormed on finding that She had escaped him, had joined her Husband, and that they had embarked together for the Indies. He swore at us all, as if the Evil Spirit had possessed him; He threw my Father into prison, as honest a painstaking Shoemaker as any in Cordova; and when He went away, He had the cruelty to take from us my Sisters little Boy, then scarcely two years old, and whom in the abruptness of her flight, She had been obliged to leave behind her. I suppose, that the poor little Wretch met with bitter bad treatment from him, for in a few months after, we received intelligence of his death. Why, this was a most terrible old Fellow, Segnora! Oh! shocking! and a Man so totally devoid of taste! Why, would you believe it, Segnor? When I attempted to pacify him, He cursed me for a Witch, and wished that to punish the Count, my Sister might become as ugly as myself! Ugly indeed! I like him for that. Ridiculous, cried Don Christoval; Doubtless the Count would have thought himself fortunate, had he been permitted to exchange the one Sister for the other. Oh! Christ! Segnor, you are really too polite. However, I am heartily glad that the Conde was of a different way of thinking. A mighty pretty piece of business, to be sure, Elvira has made of it! After broiling and stewing in the Indies for thirteen long years, her Husband dies, and She returns to Spain, without an House to hide her head, or money to procure her one! This Antonia was then but an Infant, and her only remaining Child. She found that her FatherinLaw had married again, that he was irreconcileable to the Conde, and that his second Wife had produced him a Son, who is reported to be a very fine young Man. The old Marquis refused to see my Sister or her Child; But sent her word that on condition of never hearing any more of her, He would assign her a small pension, and She might live in an old Castle which He possessed in Murcia; This had been the favourite habitation of his eldest Son; But since his flight from Spain, the old Marquis could not bear the place, but let it fall to ruin and confusion  My Sister accepted the proposal; She retired to Murcia, and has remained there till within the last Month. And what brings her now to Madrid? enquired Don Lorenzo, whom admiration of the young Antonia compelled to take a lively interest in the talkative old Womans narration. Alas! Segnor, her FatherinLaw being lately dead, the Steward of his Murcian Estates has refused to pay her pension any longer. With the design of supplicating his Son to renew it, She is now come to Madrid; But I doubt, that She might have saved herself the trouble! You young Noblemen have always enough to do with your money, and are not very often disposed to throw it away upon old Women. I advised my Sister to send Antonia with her petition; But She would not hear of such a thing. She is so obstinate! Well! She will find herself the worse for not following my counsels the Girl has a good pretty face, and possibly might have done much. Ah! Segnora, interrupted Don Christoval, counterfeiting a passionate air; If a pretty face will do the business, why has not your Sister recourse to you? Oh! Jesus! my Lord, I swear you quite overpower me with your gallantry! But I promise you that I am too well aware of the danger of such Expeditions to trust myself in a young Noblemans power! No, no; I have as yet preserved my reputation without blemish or reproach, and I always knew how to keep the Men at a proper distance. Of that, Segnora, I have not the least doubt. But permit me to ask you; Have you then any aversion to Matrimony? That is an home question. I cannot but confess, that if an amiable Cavalier was to present himself . . . . Here She intended to throw a tender and significant look upon Don Christoval; But, as She unluckily happened to squint most abominably, the glance fell directly upon his Companion Lorenzo took the compliment to himself, and answered it by a profound bow. May I enquire, said He, the name of the Marquis? The Marquis de las Cisternas. I know him intimately well. He is not at present in Madrid, but is expected here daily. He is one of the best of Men; and if the lovely Antonia will permit me to be her Advocate with him, I doubt not my being able to make a favourable report of her cause. Antonia raised her blue eyes, and silently thanked him for the offer by a smile of inexpressible sweetness. Leonellas satisfaction was much more loud and audible Indeed, as her Niece was generally silent in her company, She thought it incumbent upon her to talk enough for both This She managed without difficulty, for She very seldom found herself deficient in words. Oh! Segnor! She cried; You will lay our whole family under the most signal obligations! I accept your offer with all possible gratitude, and return you a thousand thanks for the generosity of your proposal. Antonia, why do not you speak, Child? While the Cavalier says all sorts of civil things to you, you sit like a Statue, and never utter a syllable of thanks, either bad, good, or indifferent! My dear Aunt, I am very sensible that . . . . Fye, Niece! How often have I told you, that you never should interrupt a Person who is speaking!? When did you ever know me do such a thing? Are these your Murcian manners? Mercy on me! I shall never be able to make this Girl any thing like a Person of good breeding. But pray, Segnor, She continued, addressing herself to Don Christoval, inform me, why such a Crowd is assembled today in this Cathedral? Can you possibly be ignorant, that Ambrosio, Abbot of this Monastery, pronounces a Sermon in this Church every Thursday? All Madrid rings with his praises. As yet He has preached but thrice; But all who have heard him are so delighted with his eloquence, that it is as difficult to obtain a place at Church, as at the first representation of a new Comedy. His fame certainly must have reached your ears   Alas! Segnor, till yesterday I never had the good fortune to see Madrid; and at Cordova we are so little informed of what is passing in the rest of the world, that the name of Ambrosio has never been mentioned in its precincts. You will find it in every ones mouth at Madrid. He seems to have fascinated the Inhabitants; and not having attended his Sermons myself, I am astonished at the Enthusiasm which He has excited. The adoration paid him both by Young and Old, by Man and Woman is unexampled. The Grandees load him with presents; Their Wives refuse to have any other Confessor, and he is known through all the city by the name of the Man of Holiness. Undoubtedly, Segnor, He is of noble origin   That point still remains undecided. The late Superior of the Capuchins found him while yet an Infant at the Abbey door. All attempts to discover who had left him there were vain, and the Child himself could give no account of his Parents. He was educated in the Monastery, where He has remained ever since. He early showed a strong inclination for study and retirement, and as soon as He was of a proper age, He pronounced his vows. No one has ever appeared to claim him, or clear up the mystery which conceals his birth; and the Monks, who find their account in the favour which is shewn to their establishment from respect to him, have not hesitated to publish that He is a present to them from the Virgin. In truth the singular austerity of his life gives some countenance to the report. He is now thirty years old, every hour of which period has been passed in study, total seclusion from the world, and mortification of the flesh. Till these last three weeks, when He was chosen superior of the Society to which He belongs, He had never been on the outside of the Abbey walls Even now He never quits them except on Thursdays, when He delivers a discourse in this Cathedral which all Madrid assembles to hear. His knowledge is said to be the most profound, his eloquence the most persuasive. In the whole course of his life He has never been known to transgress a single rule of his order; The smallest stain is not to be discovered upon his character; and He is reported to be so strict an observer of Chastity, that He knows not in what consists the difference of Man and Woman. The common People therefore esteem him to be a Saint. Does that make a Saint? enquired Antonia; Bless me! Then am I one? Holy St. Barbara! exclaimed Leonella; What a question! Fye, Child, Fye! These are not fit subjects for young Women to handle. You should not seem to remember that there is such a thing as a Man in the world, and you ought to imagine every body to be of the same sex with yourself. I should like to see you give people to understand, that you know that a Man has no breasts, and no hips, and no . . .. Luckily for Antonias ignorance which her Aunts lecture would soon have dispelled, an universal murmur through the Church announced the Preachers arrival. Donna Leonella rose from her seat to take a better view of him, and Antonia followed her example. He was a Man of noble port and commanding presence. His stature was lofty, and his features uncommonly handsome. His Nose was aquiline, his eyes large black and sparkling, and his dark brows almost joined together. His complexion was of a deep but clear Brown; Study and watching had entirely deprived his cheek of colour. Tranquillity reigned upon his smooth unwrinkled forehead; and Content, expressed upon every feature, seemed to announce the Man equally unacquainted with cares and crimes. He bowed himself with humility to the audience Still there was a certain severity in his look and manner that inspired universal awe, and few could sustain the glance of his eye at once fiery and penetrating. Such was Ambrosio, Abbot of the Capuchins, and surnamed, The Man of Holiness. Antonia, while She gazed upon him eagerly, felt a pleasure fluttering in her bosom which till then had been unknown to her, and for which She in vain endeavoured to account. She waited with impatience till the Sermon should begin; and when at length the Friar spoke, the sound of his voice seemed to penetrate into her very soul. Though no other of the Spectators felt such violent sensations as did the young Antonia, yet every one listened with interest and emotion. They who were insensible to Religions merits, were still enchanted with Ambrosios oratory. All found their attention irresistibly attracted while He spoke, and the most profound silence reigned through the crowded Aisles. Even Lorenzo could not resist the charm He forgot that Antonia was seated near him, and listened to the Preacher with undivided attention. In language nervous, clear, and simple, the Monk expatiated on the beauties of Religion. He explained some abstruse parts of the sacred writings in a style that carried with it universal conviction. His voice at once distinct and deep was fraught with all the terrors of the Tempest, while He inveighed against the vices of humanity, and described the punishments reserved for them in a future state. Every Hearer looked back upon his past offences, and trembled The Thunder seemed to roll, whose bolt was destined to crush him, and the abyss of eternal destruction to open before his feet. But when Ambrosio, changing his theme, spoke of the excellence of an unsullied conscience, of the glorious prospect which Eternity presented to the Soul untainted with reproach, and of the recompense which awaited it in the regions of everlasting glory, His Auditors felt their scattered spirits insensibly return. They threw themselves with confidence upon the mercy of their Judge; They hung with delight upon the consoling words of the Preacher; and while his full voice swelled into melody, They were transported to those happy regions which He painted to their imaginations in colours so brilliant and glowing. The discourse was of considerable length; Yet when it concluded, the Audience grieved that it had not lasted longer. Though the Monk had ceased to speak, enthusiastic silence still prevailed through the Church At length the charm gradually dissolving, the general admiration was expressed in audible terms. As Ambrosio descended from the Pulpit, His Auditors crowded round him, loaded him with blessings, threw themselves at his feet, and kissed the hem of his Garment. He passed on slowly with his hands crossed devoutly upon his bosom, to the door opening into the Abbey Chapel, at which his Monks waited to receive him. He ascended the Steps, and then turning towards his Followers, addressed to them a few words of gratitude, and exhortation. While He spoke, his Rosary, composed of large grains of amber, fell from his hand, and dropped among the surrounding multitude. It was seized eagerly, and immediately divided amidst the Spectators. Whoever became possessor of a Bead, preserved it as a sacred relique; and had it been the Chaplet of thriceblessed St. Francis himself, it could not have been disputed with greater vivacity. The Abbot, smiling at their eagerness, pronounced his benediction, and quitted the Church, while humility dwelt upon every feature. Dwelt She also in his heart? Antonias eyes followed him with anxiety. As the Door closed after him, it seemed to her as had she lost some one essential to her happiness. A tear stole in silence down her cheek. He is separated from the world! said She to herself; Perhaps, I shall never see him more! As she wiped away the tear, Lorenzo observed her action. Are you satisfied with our Orator? said He; Or do you think that Madrid overrates his talents? Antonias heart was so filled with admiration for the Monk, that She eagerly seized the opportunity of speaking of him Besides, as She now no longer considered Lorenzo as an absolute Stranger, She was less embarrassed by her excessive timidity. Oh! He far exceeds all my expectations, answered She; Till this moment I had no idea of the powers of eloquence. But when He spoke, his voice inspired me with such interest, such esteem, I might almost say such affection for him, that I am myself astonished at the acuteness of my feelings. Lorenzo smiled at the strength of her expressions. You are young and just entering into life, said He; Your heart, new to the world and full of warmth and sensibility, receives its first impressions with eagerness. Artless yourself, you suspect not others of deceit; and viewing the world through the medium of your own truth and innocence, you fancy all who surround you to deserve your confidence and esteem. What pity, that these gay visions must soon be dissipated! What pity, that you must soon discover the baseness of mankind, and guard against your fellowcreatures as against your Foes! Alas! Segnor, replied Antonia; The misfortunes of my Parents have already placed before me but too many sad examples of the perfidy of the world! Yet surely in the present instance the warmth of sympathy cannot have deceived me. In the present instance, I allow that it has not. Ambrosios character is perfectly without reproach; and a Man who has passed the whole of his life within the walls of a Convent cannot have found the opportunity to be guilty, even were He possessed of the inclination. But now, when, obliged by the duties of his situation, He must enter occasionally into the world, and be thrown into the way of temptation, it is now that it behoves him to show the brilliance of his virtue. The trial is dangerous; He is just at that period of life when the passions are most vigorous, unbridled, and despotic; His established reputation will mark him out to Seduction as an illustrious Victim; Novelty will give additional charms to the allurements of pleasure; and even the Talents with which Nature has endowed him will contribute to his ruin, by facilitating the means of obtaining his object. Very few would return victorious from a contest so severe. Ah! surely Ambrosio will be one of those few. Of that I have myself no doubt By all accounts He is an exception to mankind in general, and Envy would seek in vain for a blot upon his character. Segnor, you delight me by this assurance! It encourages me to indulge my prepossession in his favour; and you know not with what pain I should have repressed the sentiment! Ah! dearest Aunt, entreat my Mother to choose him for our Confessor. I entreat her? replied Leonella; I promise you that I shall do no such thing. I do not like this same Ambrosio in the least; He has a look of severity about him that made me tremble from head to foot Were He my Confessor, I should never have the courage to avow one half of my peccadilloes, and then I should be in a rare condition! I never saw such a sternlooking Mortal, and hope that I never shall see such another. His description of the Devil, God bless us! almost terrified me out of my wits, and when He spoke about Sinners He seemed as if He was ready to eat them. You are right, Segnora, answered Don Christoval; Too great severity is said to be Ambrosios only fault. Exempted himself from human failings, He is not sufficiently indulgent to those of others; and though strictly just and disinterested in his decisions, his government of the Monks has already shown some proofs of his inflexibility. But the crowd is nearly dissipated Will you permit us to attend you home? Oh! Christ! Segnor, exclaimed Leonella affecting to blush; I would not suffer such a thing for the Universe! If I came home attended by so gallant a Cavalier, My Sister is so scrupulous that She would read me an hours lecture, and I should never hear the last of it. Besides, I rather wish you not to make your proposals just at present. My proposals? I assure you, Segnora . . . . Oh! Segnor, I believe that your assurances of impatience are all very true; But really I must desire a little respite.