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
The Monk - A Romance Page 2
