The Monk - A Romance

by The Monk [lit]

  that She was not born for solitude: In all the freedom of youth

  and gaiety, She scrupled not to treat as ridiculous many

  ceremonies which the Nuns regarded with awe; and She was never

  more happy than when her lively imagination inspired her with

  some scheme to plague the stiff Lady Abbess, or the ugly ill-

  tempered old Porteress. She looked with disgust upon the

  prospect before her: However no alternative was offered to her,

  and She submitted to the decree of her Parents, though not

  without secret repining.

  That repugnance She had not art enough to conceal long: Don

  Gaston was informed of it. Alarmed, Lorenzo, lest your affection

  for her should oppose itself to his projects, and lest you should

  positively object to your Sister's misery, He resolved to keep

  the whole affair from YOUR knowledge as well as the Duke's, till

  the sacrifice should be consummated. The season of her taking

  the veil was fixed for the time when you should be upon your

  travels: In the meanwhile no hint was dropped of Donna

  Inesilla's fatal vow. Your Sister was never permitted to know

  your direction. All your letters were read before She received

  them, and those parts effaced, which were likely to nourish her

  inclination for the world: Her answers were dictated either by

  her Aunt, or by Dame Cunegonda, her Governess. These particulars

  I learnt partly from Agnes, partly from the Baroness herself.

  I immediately determined upon rescuing this lovely Girl from a

  fate so contrary to her inclinations, and ill-suited to her

  merit. I endeavoured to ingratiate myself into her favour: I

  boasted of my friendship and intimacy with you. She listened to

  me with avidity; She seemed to devour my words while I spoke in

  your praise, and her eyes thanked me for my affection to her

  Brother. My constant and unremitted attention at length gained

  me her heart, and with difficulty I obliged her to confess that

  She loved me. When however, I proposed her quitting the Castle

  of Lindenberg, She rejected the idea in positive terms.

  'Be generous, Alphonso,' She said; 'You possess my heart, but use

  not the gift ignobly. Employ not your ascendancy over me in

  persuading me to take a step, at which I should hereafter have

  to blush. I am young and deserted: My Brother, my only Friend,

  is separated from me, and my other Relations act with me as my

  Enemies. Take pity on my unprotected situation. Instead of

  seducing me to an action which would cover me with shame, strive

  rather to gain the affections of those who govern me. The Baron

  esteems you. My Aunt, to others ever harsh proud and

  contemptuous, remembers that you rescued her from the hands of

  Murderers, and wears with you alone the appearance of kindness

  and benignity. Try then your influence over my Guardians. If

  they consent to our union my hand is yours: From your account of

  my Brother, I cannot doubt your obtaining his approbation: And

  when they find the impossibility of executing their design, I

  trust that my Parents will excuse my disobedience, and expiate by

  some other sacrifice my Mother's fatal vow.'

  From the first moment that I beheld Agnes, I had endeavoured to

  conciliate the favour of her Relations. Authorised by the

  confession of her regard, I redoubled my exertions. My principal

  Battery was directed against the Baroness; It was easy to

  discover that her word was law in the Castle: Her Husband paid

  her the most absolute submission, and considered her as a

  superior Being. She was about forty: In her youth She had been

  a Beauty; But her charms had been upon that large scale which can

  but ill sustain the shock of years: However She still possessed

  some remains of them. Her understanding was strong and excellent

  when not obscured by prejudice, which unluckily was but seldom

  the case. Her passions were violent: She spared no pains to

  gratify them, and pursued with unremitting vengeance those who

  opposed themselves to her wishes. The warmest of Friends, the

  most inveterate of Enemies, such was the Baroness Lindenberg.

  I laboured incessantly to please her: Unluckily I succeeded but

  too well. She seemed gratified by my attention, and treated me

  with a distinction accorded by her to no one else. One of my

  daily occupations was reading to her for several hours: Those

  hours I should much rather have past with Agnes; But as I was

  conscious that complaisance for her Aunt would advance our

  union, I submitted with a good grace to the penance imposed upon

  me. Donna Rodolpha's Library was principally composed of old

  Spanish Romances: These were her favourite studies, and once a

  day one of these unmerciful Volumes was put regularly into my

  hands. I read the wearisome adventures of 'Perceforest,'

  'Tirante the White,' 'Palmerin of England,' and 'the Knight of

  the Sun,' till the Book was on the point of falling from my hands

  through Ennui. However, the increasing pleasure which the

  Baroness seemed to take in my society, encouraged me to

  persevere; and latterly She showed for me a partiality so marked,

  that Agnes advised me to seize the first opportunity of declaring

  our mutual passion to her Aunt.

  One Evening, I was alone with Donna Rodolpha in her own

  apartment. As our readings generally treated of love, Agnes was

  never permitted to assist at them. I was just congratulating

  myself on having finished 'The Loves of Tristan and the Queen

  Iseult----'

  'Ah! The Unfortunates!' cried the Baroness; 'How say you,

  Segnor? Do you think it possible for Man to feel an attachment

  so disinterested and sincere?'

  'I cannot doubt it,' replied I; 'My own heart furnishes me with

  the certainty. Ah! Donna Rodolpha, might I but hope for your

  approbation of my love! Might I but confess the name of my

  Mistress without incurring your resentment!'

  She interrupted me.

  'Suppose, I were to spare you that confession? Suppose I were

  to acknowledge that the object of your desires is not unknown to

  me? Suppose I were to say that She returns your affection, and

  laments not less sincerely than yourself the unhappy vows which

  separate her from you?'

  'Ah! Donna Rodolpha!' I exclaimed, throwing myself upon my knees

  before her, and pressing her hand to my lips, 'You have

  discovered my secret! What is your decision? Must I despair, or

  may I reckon upon your favour?'

  She withdrew not the hand which I held; But She turned from me,

  and covered her face with the other.

  'How can I refuse it you?' She replied; 'Ah! Don Alphonso, I have

  long perceived to whom your attentions were directed, but till

  now I perceived not the impression which they made upon my heart.

  At length I can no longer hide my weakness either from myself or

  from you. I yield to the violence of my passion, and own that I

  adore you! For three long months I stifled my desires; But grown

  stronger by resistance, I submit to their impetuosity. Pride,

  fear, and honour, respect for myself, a
nd my engagements to the

  Baron, all are vanquished. I sacrifice them to my love for you,

  and it still seems to me that I pay too mean a price for your

  possession.'

  She paused for an answer.--Judge, my Lorenzo, what must have been

  my confusion at this discovery. I at once saw all the magnitude

  of this obstacle, which I had raised myself to my happiness. The

  Baroness had placed those attentions to her own account, which I

  had merely paid her for the sake of Agnes: And the strength of

  her expressions, the looks which accompanied them, and my

  knowledge of her revengeful disposition made me tremble for

  myself and my Beloved. I was silent for some minutes. I knew

  not how to reply to her declaration: I could only resolve to

  clear up the mistake without delay, and for the present to

  conceal from her knowledge the name of my Mistress. No sooner

  had She avowed her passion than the transports which before were

  evident in my features gave place to consternation and

  constraint. I dropped her hand, and rose from my knees. The

  change in my countenance did not escape her observation.

  'What means this silence?' said She in a trembling voice; 'Where

  is that joy which you led me to expect?'

  'Forgive me, Segnora,' I answered, 'if what necessity forces from

  me should seem harsh and ungrateful: To encourage you in an

  error, which, however it may flatter myself, must prove to you

  the source of disappointment, would make me appear criminal in

  every eye. Honour obliges me to inform you that you have

  mistaken for the solicitude of Love what was only the attention

  of Friendship. The latter sentiment is that which I wished to

  excite in your bosom: To entertain a warmer, respect for you

  forbids me, and gratitude for the Baron's generous treatment.

  Perhaps these reasons would not be sufficient to shield me from

  your attractions, were it not that my affections are already

  bestowed upon another. You have charms, Segnora, which might

  captivate the most insensible; No heart unoccupied could resist

  them. Happy is it for me that mine is no longer in my

  possession; or I should have to reproach myself for ever with

  having violated the Laws of Hospitality. Recollect yourself,

  noble Lady; Recollect what is owed by you to honour, by me to the

  Baron, and replace by esteem and friendship those sentiments

  which I never can return.'

  The Baroness turned pale at this unexpected and positive

  declaration: She doubted whether She slept or woke. At length

  recovering from her surprise, consternation gave place to rage,

  and the blood rushed back into her cheeks with violence.

  'Villain!' She cried; 'Monster of deceit! Thus is the avowal of

  my love received? Is it thus that. . . . But no, no! It

  cannot, it shall not be! Alphonso, behold me at your feet! Be

  witness of my despair! Look with pity on a Woman who loves you

  with sincere affection! She who possesses your heart, how has

  She merited such a treasure? What sacrifice has She made to you?

  What raises her above Rodolpha?'

  I endeavoured to lift her from her Knees.

  'For God's sake, Segnora, restrain these transports: They

  disgrace yourself and me. Your exclamations may be heard, and

  your secret divulged to your Attendants. I see that my presence

  only irritates you: permit me to retire.'

  I prepared to quit the apartment: The Baroness caught me

  suddenly by the arm.

  'And who is this happy Rival?' said She in a menacing tone; 'I

  will know her name, and WHEN I know it. . . . ! She is someone

  in my power; You entreated my favour, my protection! Let me but

  find her, let me but know who dares to rob me of your heart, and

  She shall suffer every torment which jealousy and disappointment

  can inflict! Who is She? Answer me this moment. Hope not to

  conceal her from my vengeance! Spies shall be set over you;

  every step, every look shall be watched; Your eyes will discover

  my Rival; I shall know her, and when She is found, tremble,

  Alphonso for her and for yourself!'

  As She uttered these last words her fury mounted to such a pitch

  as to stop her powers of respiration. She panted, groaned, and

  at length fainted away. As She was falling I caught her in my

  arms, and placed her upon a Sopha. Then hastening to the door, I

  summoned her Women to her assistance; I committed her to their

  care, and seized the opportunity of escaping.

  Agitated and confused beyond expression I bent my steps towards

  the Garden. The benignity with which the Baroness had listened

  to me at first raised my hopes to the highest pitch: I imagined

  her to have perceived my attachment for her Niece, and to approve

  of it. Extreme was my disappointment at understanding the true

  purport of her discourse. I knew not what course to take: The

  superstition of the Parents of Agnes, aided by her Aunt's

  unfortunate passion, seemed to oppose such obstacles to our union

  as were almost insurmountable.

  As I past by a low parlour, whose windows looked into the Garden,

  through the door which stood half open I observed Agnes seated at

  a Table. She was occupied in drawing, and several unfinished

  sketches were scattered round her. I entered, still undetermined

  whether I should acquaint her with the declaration of the

  Baroness.

  'Oh! is it only you?' said She, raising her head; 'You are no

  Stranger, and I shall continue my occupation without ceremony.

  Take a Chair, and seat yourself by me.'

  I obeyed, and placed myself near the Table. Unconscious what I

  was doing, and totally occupied by the scene which had just

  passed, I took up some of the drawings, and cast my eye over

  them. One of the subjects struck me from its singularity. It

  represented the great Hall of the Castle of Lindenberg. A door

  conducting to a narrow staircase stood half open. In the

  foreground appeared a Groupe of figures, placed in the most

  grotesque attitudes; Terror was expressed upon every countenance.

  Here was One upon his knees with his eyes cast up to heaven, and

  praying most devoutly; There Another was creeping away upon all

  fours. Some hid their faces in their cloaks or the laps of their

  Companions; Some had concealed themselves beneath a Table, on

  which the remnants of a feast were visible; While Others with

  gaping mouths and eyes wide-stretched pointed to a Figure,

  supposed to have created this disturbance. It represented a

  Female of more than human stature, clothed in the habit of some

  religious order. Her face was veiled; On her arm hung a chaplet

  of beads; Her dress was in several places stained with the blood

  which trickled from a wound upon her bosom. In one hand She held

  a Lamp, in the other a large Knife, and She seemed advancing

  towards the iron gates of the Hall.

  'What does this mean, Agnes?' said I; 'Is this some invention of

  your own?'

  She cast her eye upon the drawing.

  'Oh! no,' She replied; ' 'Tis the invention of much wiser heads

  than
mine. But can you possibly have lived at Lindenberg for

  three whole Months without hearing of the Bleeding Nun?'

  'You are the first, who ever mentioned the name to me. Pray, who

  may the Lady be?'

  'That is more than I can pretend to tell you. All my knowledge

  of her History comes from an old tradition in this family, which

  has been handed down from Father to Son, and is firmly credited

  throughout the Baron's domains. Nay, the Baron believes it

  himself; and as for my Aunt who has a natural turn for the

  marvellous, She would sooner doubt the veracity of the Bible,

  than of the Bleeding Nun. Shall I tell you this History?'

  I answered that She would oblige me much by relating it: She

  resumed her drawing, and then proceeded as follows in a tone of

  burlesqued gravity.

  'It is surprising that in all the Chronicles of past times, this

  remarkable Personage is never once mentioned. Fain would I

  recount to you her life; But unluckily till after her death She

  was never known to have existed. Then first did She think it

  necessary to make some noise in the world, and with that

  intention She made bold to seize upon the Castle of Lindenberg.

  Having a good taste, She took up her abode in the best room of

  the House: and once established there, She began to amuse

  herself by knocking about the tables and chairs in the middle of

  the night. Perhaps She was a bad Sleeper, but this I have never

  been able to ascertain. According to the tradition, this

  entertainment commenced about a Century ago. It was accompanied

  with shrieking, howling, groaning, swearing, and many other

  agreeable noises of the same kind. But though one particular

  room was more especially honoured with her visits, She did not

  entirely confine herself to it. She occasionally ventured into

  the old Galleries, paced up and down the spacious Halls, or

  sometimes stopping at the doors of the Chambers, She wept and

  wailed there to the universal terror of the Inhabitants. In

  these nocturnal excursions She was seen by different People, who

  all describe her appearance as you behold it here, traced by the

  hand of her unworthy Historian.'

  The singularity of this account insensibly engaged my attention.

  'Did She never speak to those who met her?' said I.

  'Not She. The specimens indeed, which She gave nightly of her

  talents for conversation, were by no means inviting. Sometimes