The Monk - A Romance Read online

  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 Father-in-Law 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 Woman's narration.

  'Alas! Segnor, her Father-in-Law 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 Nobleman's

  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. Leonella's

  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 one's 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

&nb
sp; 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 Antonia's ignorance which her Aunt's lecture would

  soon have dispelled, an universal murmur through the Church

  announced the Preacher's 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

  Religion's merits, were still enchanted with Ambrosio's 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 thrice-blessed

  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?

  Antonia's 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?'

  Antonia's 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 fellow-creatures 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. Ambrosio's

  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 stern-looking 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