Part 25
_Agnes_ lov'd every thing that gave the Prince satisfaction; but a secret Trouble made her apprehend some Misfortune in this unhappy Journey. _Sir_, (said she to him, alarm'd, without knowing the Reason why) _I tremble, seeing you today as it were designed the last of my Life: Preserve your self, my dear Prince; and tho' the Exercise you take be not very dangerous, beware of the least Hazards, and bring me back all that I trust with you. Don Pedro_, who had never found her so handsome and so charming before, embraced her several times, and went out of the Palace with his Followers, with a Design not to return till the next Day.
He was no sooner gone, but the cruel _Don Alvaro_ prepared himself for the Execution he had resolv'd on; he thought it of that importance, that it required more Hands than his own, and so chose for his Companions _Don Lopez Pacheo_, and _Pedro Cuello_, two Monsters like himself, whose Cruelty he was assur'd of by the Presents he had made 'em.
They waited the coming of the Night, and the lovely _Agnes_ was in her first Sleep, which was the last of her Life, when these Assassins approach'd her Bed. Nothing made resistance to _Don Alvaro_, who could do every thing, and whom the blackest Furies introduced to _Agnes_; she waken'd, and opening her Curtains, saw, by the Candle burning in her Chamber, the Ponyard with which _Don Alvaro_ was armed; he having his Face not cover'd, she easily knew him, and forgetting herself, to think of nothing but the Prince: _Just Heaven_ (said she, lifting up her fine Eyes) _if you will revenge +Constantia+, satisfy your self with my Blood only, and spare that of_ Don Pedro. The barbarous Man that heard her, gave her not time to say more; and finding he could never (by all he could do by Love) touch the Heart of the fair _Agnes_, he pierc'd it with his Ponyard: his Accomplices gave her several Wounds, tho' there was no necessity of so many to put an end to an innocent Life.
What a sad Spectacle was this for those who approach'd her Bed the next day! And what dismal News was this to the unfortunate Prince of _Portugal_! He returned to _Coimbra_ at the first report of this Adventure, and saw what had certainly cost him his Life, if Men could die of Grief. After having a thousand times embraced the bloody Body of _Agnes_, and said all that a just Despair could inspire him with, he ran like a Mad-man into the Palace, demanding the Murderers of his Wife, of things that could not hear him. In fine, he saw the King, and without observing any respect, he gave a loose to his Resentment: after having rail'd a long time, overwhelm'd with Grief, he fell into a Swoon, which continu'd all that day. They carry'd him into his Apartment: and the King, believing that his Misfortune would prove his Cure, repented not of what he had permitted.
_Don Alvaro_, and the two other Assassins, quitted _Coimbra_. This Absence of theirs made 'em appear guilty of the Crime; for which the afflicted Prince vow'd a speedy Vengeance to the Ghost of his lovely _Agnes_, resolving to pursue them to the uttermost part of the Universe; He got a considerable number of Men together, sufficient to have made resistance, even to the King of _Portugal_ himself, if he should yet take the part of the Murderers: with these he ravaged the whole Country, as far as the _Duero_ Waters, and carry'd on a War, even till the Death of the King, continually mixing Tears with Blood, which he gave to the revenge of his dearest _Agnes_.
Such was the deplorable End of the unfortunate Love of _Don Pedro_ of _Portugal_, and of the fair _Agnes de Castro_, whose Remembrance he faithfully preserv'd in his Heart, even upon the Throne, to which he mounted by the Right of his Birth, after the Death of the King.
* * * * * * * * *
THE HISTORY OF THE NUN; OR, THE FAIR VOW-BREAKER.
INTRODUCTION.
In the Epistle Dedicatory to Antony Hammond, Esq., of Somersham-Place, prefacing that pathetic tragedy, _The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery_[1] (4to, 1694), Southerne writes: 'I took the Hint of the Tragical part of this Play from a Novel of Mrs. _Behn's_, call'd _The Fair Vow-Breaker_; you will forgive me for calling it a Hint, when you find I have little more than borrow'd the Question, how far such a Distress was to be carry'd, upon the Misfortune of a Woman's having innocently two Husbands, at the same time'.
In the many collected editions of Mrs. Behn's popular novels and histories, from the first, published under the auspices of Gildon in 1696, to the ninth (2 vols, 12mo, London, 1751), there appears, however, no such novel as _The Fair Vow-Breaker_, but on the other hand all contain _The Nun; or, the Perjur'd Beauty_. For over two hundred years then, critics, theatrical historians, bibliographers alike have laid down that _The Fair Vow-Breaker_ is merely another title for _The Nun; or, The Perjur'd Beauty_, and that it is to this romance we must look for the source of Southerne's tragedy. The slight dissimilarity of name was truly of no great account. On the title-page of another novel we have _The Fair Jilt; or, The History of Prince Tarquin and Miranda_; on the half-title of the same _The Fair Hypocrite; or, The Amours of Prince Tarquin and Miranda_ (12mo, 1688). And so Thomas Evans in the preface to his edition of Southerne (3 vols, 1774), writing the dramatist's life, says: 'the plot by the author's confession is taken from a novel of Mrs. Behn's called _The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker_'. All the modern writers have duly, but wrongly, accepted this; and Miss Charlotte E. Morgan in her monograph, _The English Novel till 1749_, informs us in more than one place that _The Fair Vow-Breaker_ (12mo, 1689) was the name of the editio princeps of _The Nun; or, The Perjur'd Beauty_.
A crux, however, was soon apparent. Upon investigation it is obvious that the plot of _The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery_ has simply nothing in common with _The Nun; or, The Perjur'd Beauty_. Mrs. Behn's Ardelia is a mere coquette who through her trifling with three different men is responsible for five deaths: her lovers', Elvira's, and her own. Isabella, Southerne's heroine, on the other hand, falls a sad victim to the machinations of Carlos, her wicked brother-in-law. She is virtuous and constant; Ardelia is a jade capable of heartless treachery. Both novel and play end tragically it is true, but from entirely different motives and in a dissimilar manner. There is no likeness between them.
Whence then did Southerne derive his plot, and what exactly did he mean by the statement that he owed 'the Hint of the Tragical part' of his drama to a novel of Mrs. Behn's?
Professor Paul Hamelius of Liege set out to solve the difficulty, and in a scholarly article (_Modern Language Review_, July, 1909), he marshals the facts and seeks a solution. 'Among her [Mrs. Behn's] collected novels'[2] he writes 'there is one entitled _The Nun; or, The Perjur'd Beauty_ and Mr. Gosse has kindly informed me that the story is identical with _The Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker_ which appears in the editio princeps of 1689 (inaccessible to me).' Unfortunately he can find no analogy and is obliged to draw attention to other sources. He points to _The Virgin Captive_, the fifth story in Roger L'Estrange's _The Spanish Decameron_ (1687). Again: there is the famous legend of the lovers of Teruel as dramatized in 1638 by Juan Perez de Montalvan, _Los Amantes de Teruel_. An earlier comedia exists on the same subject written by A. Rey de Artieda, 1581, and yet another play by Tirso de Molina, 1635, based on Artieda. Hamelius was obviously not satisfied with his researches, and with a half-suggestion that Southerne may have merely intended to pay a compliment to his 'literary friend Mrs. Behn,' his conclusion is that 'the question is naturally still open whether Southerne was not drawing from some more immediate source--possibly even from some lost version of the story by Mrs. Behn herself.'
In the course of my preparing the present edition of Mrs. Behn's complete works, Mr. Gosse, adding yet another to innumerable kindnesses and encouragements, entrusted me with a little volume[3] from his private library: _The History of the Nun; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker_ (12mo, 1689, Licensed 22 October, 1688), and I soon found this to be the immediate source of Southerne's tragedy, a totally different novel from _The Nun; or, The Perjur'd Beauty_, and one, moreover, which has never till now been included in any edition of Mrs. Behn's works or, indeed, reprinted in any form. It were superfluous to compare novel and tragedy detail by detail. Many striking, many minor points are the same in each. In several instances the nomenclature has been preserved. The chief divergence is, of course, the main catastrophe. Mrs. Behn's execution could ill have been represented on the boards, and Southerne's heroine, the victim of villainies and intrigue, is, it must be confessed, an infinitely more pathetic figure than guilty Isabella in the romance.
The story of a man returning after long absence and finding his spouse (or betrothed) wedded to another, familiarized to the generality of modern readers by Tennyson's _Enoch Arden_, occurs in every shape and tongue. No. 69 of _Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_ is _L'Honneste femme a Deux Maris_.[4] A more famous exemplar we have in the _Decameron_, Day IV, Novella 8, whose rubric runs: 'Girolamo ama la Salvestra: va, costretto da' prieghi della madre, a Parigi: torna, e truovala maritata: entrale di nascoso in casa, e muorle allato; e portato in una chiesa, muore la Salvestra allata a lui.'
Scenes of the amusing underplot of _The Fatal Marriage_ which contain some excellent comedy, Southerne took directly from _The Night Walker; or, The Little Thief_ (printed as Fletcher's in 1640 and 'corrected by Shirley' in 1633 according to Herbert's license). The purgatorial farce may be traced to the _Decameron_, Day III, 8. 'Ferondo, mangiata certa polvere, e sotterrato per morto: e dall' abate, chi la moglie di lui si gode, tratto dalla sepoltura, e messo in prigione e fattogli credere, che egli e in purgatoro; e poi risuscitato . . .' It is the _Feronde; ou, le Purgatoire_ of La Fontaine.
_The Fatal Marriage; or, The Innocent Adultery_ long kept the stage.[5] On 2 December, 1757, Garrick's version, which omitting the comic relief weakens and considerably shortens the play, was produced at Drury Lane with himself as Biron and Mrs. Cibber as Isabella. The actual name of the tragedy, however, was not changed to _Isabella_ till some years after. Mrs. Barry, the original Isabella, was acknowledged supreme in this tragedy, and our greatest actresses, Mrs. Porter, Mrs. Crawford, Miss Young, Mrs. Siddons, Miss O'Neill, have all triumphed in the role.
[Footnote 1: This has nothing to do with Scarron's novel, _L' Innocent Adultere_ which translated was so popular in the 17th and 18th centuries. Bellmour carried it in his pocket when he went a-courting Laetitia, to the horror of old Fondlewife who discovered the tome, (_The Old Batchelor_, 1693), and Lydia Languish was partial to its perusal in 1775.]
[Footnote 2: Hamelius used the collected edition of 1705.]
[Footnote 3: It is interesting to note that the book originally belonged to Scott's friend and critic, Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.]
[Footnote 4: Reproduced by Celio Malespini _Ducento Novelle_, No. 9 (Venice, 4to, 1609, but probably written about thirty years before).]
[Footnote 5: A French prose translation of Southerne is to be found in Vol. VIII of _Le Theatre Anglois_, Londres, 1746. It is entitled _L'Adultere Innocent_; but the comic underplot is very sketchily analyzed, scene by scene, and the whole is very mediocre withal.]
To the Most Illustrious Princess, The Dutchess of Mazarine.
Madam,
There are none of an Illustrious Quality, who have not been made, by some Poet or other, the Patronesses of his Distress'd Hero, or Unfortunate Damsel; and such Addresses are Tributes, due only to the most Elevated, where they have always been very well receiv'd, since they are the greatest Testimonies we can give, of our Esteem and Veneration.
Madam, when I survey'd the whole Toor of Ladies at Court, which was adorn'd by you, who appear'd there with a Grace and Majesty, peculiar to Your Great Self only, mix'd with an irresistible Air of Sweetness, Generosity, and Wit, I was impatient for an Opportunity, to tell Your Grace, how infinitely one of Your own Sex ador'd You, and that, among all the numerous Conquest, Your Grace has made over the Hearts of Men, Your Grace had not subdu'd a more entire Slave; I assure you, Madam, there is neither Compliment nor Poetry, in this humble Declaration, but a Truth, which has cost me a great deal of Inquietude, for that Fortune has not set me in such a Station, as might justifie my Pretence to the honour and satisfaction of being ever near Your Grace, to view eternally that lovely Person, and hear that surprizing Wit; what can be more grateful to a Heart, than so great, and so agreeable, an Entertainment? And how few Objects are there, that can render it so entire a Pleasure, as at once to hear you speak, and to look upon your Beauty? A Beauty that is heighten'd, if possible, with an air of Negligence, in Dress, wholly Charming, as if your Beauty disdain'd those little Arts of your Sex, whose Nicety alone is their greatest Charm, while yours, Madam, even without the Assistance of your exalted Birth, begets an Awe and Reverence in all that do approach you, and every one is proud, and pleas'd, in paying you Homage their several ways, according to their Capacities and Talents; mine, Madam, can only be exprest by my Pen, which would be infinitely honour'd, in being permitted to celebrate your great Name for ever, and perpetually to serve, where it has so great an inclination.
In the mean time, Madam, I presume to lay this little Trifle at your Feet; the Story is true, as it is on the Records of the Town, where it was transacted; and if my fair unfortunate VOW-BREAKER do not deserve the honour of your Graces Protection, at least, she will be found worthy of your Pity; which will be a sufficient Glory, both for her, and,
Madam, Your Graces most humble, and most obedient Servant, A. BEHN.
THE HISTORY OF THE NUN; or, The Fair Vow-Breaker.
Of all the sins, incident to Human Nature, there is none, of which Heaven has took so particular, visible, and frequent Notice, and Revenge, as on that of _Violated Vows_, which never go unpunished; and the _Cupids_ may boast what they will, for the encouragement of their Trade of Love, that Heaven never takes cognisance of Lovers broken Vows and Oaths, and that 'tis the only Perjury that escapes the Anger of the _Gods_; But I verily believe, if it were search'd into, we should find these frequent Perjuries, that pass in the World for so many Gallantries only, to be the occasion of so many unhappy Marriages, and the cause of all those Misfortunes, which are so frequent to the Nuptiall'd Pair. For not one of a Thousand, but, either on his side, or on hers, has been perjur'd, and broke Vows made to some fond believing Wretch, whom they have abandon'd and undone. What Man that does not boast of the Numbers he has thus ruin'd, and, who does not glory in the shameful Triumph? Nay, what Woman, almost, has not a pleasure in Deceiving, taught, perhaps, at first, by some dear false one, who had fatally instructed her Youth in an Art she ever after practis'd, in Revenge on all those she could be too hard for, and conquer at their own Weapons? For, without all dispute, Women are by Nature more Constant and Just, than Men, and did not their first Lovers teach them the trick of Change, they would be _Doves_, that would never quit their Mate, and, like _Indian_ Wives, would leap alive into the Graves of their deceased Lovers, and be buried quick with 'em. But Customs of Countries change even Nature her self, and long Habit takes her place: The Women are taught, by the Lives of the Men, to live up to all their Vices, and are become almost as inconstant; and 'tis but Modesty that makes the difference, and, hardly, inclination; so deprav'd the nicest Appetites grow in time, by bad Examples.
But, as there are degrees of Vows, so there are degrees of Punishments for Vows, there are solemn Matrimonial Vows, such as contract and are the most effectual Marriage, and have the most reason to be so; there are a thousand Vows and Friendships, that pass between Man and Man, on a thousand Occasions; but there is another Vow, call'd a _Sacred Vow_, made to God only; and, by which, we oblige our selves eternally to serve him with all Chastity and Devotion: This Vow is only taken, and made, by those that enter into Holy Orders, and, of all broken Vows, these are those, that receive the most severe and notorious Revenges of God; and I am almost certain, there is not one Example to be produc'd in the World, where Perjuries of this nature have past unpunish'd, nay, that have not been persu'd with the greatest and most rigorous of Punishments. I could my self, of my own knowledge, give an hundred Examples of the fatal Consequences of the Violation of Sacred Vows; and who ever make it their business, and are curious in the search of such Misfortunes, shall find, as I say, that they never go unregarded.
The young Beauty therefore, who dedicates her self to Heaven, and weds her self for ever to the service of God, ought, first, very well to consider the Self-denial she is going to put upon her youth, her fickle faithless deceiving Youth, of one Opinion to day, and of another to morrow; like Flowers, which never remain in one state or fashion, but bud to day, and blow by insensible degrees, and decay as imperceptibly. The Resolution, we promise, and believe we shall maintain, is not in our power, and nothing is so deceitful as human Hearts.
I once was design'd an humble Votary in the House of Devotion, but fancying my self not endu'd with an obstinacy of Mind, great enough to secure me from the Efforts and Vanities of the World, I rather chose to deny my self that Content I could not certainly promise my self, than to languish (as I have seen some do) in a certain Affliction; tho' possibly, since, I have sufficiently bewailed that mistaken and inconsiderate Approbation and Preference of the false ungrateful World, (full of nothing but Nonsense, Noise, false Notions, and Contradiction) before the Innocence and Quiet of a Cloyster; nevertheless, I could wish, for the prevention of abundance of Mischiefs and Miseries, that Nunneries and Marriages were not to be enter'd into, 'till the Maid, so destin'd, were of a mature Age to make her own Choice; and that Parents would not make use of their justly assum'd Authority to compel their Children, neither to the one or the other; but since I cannot alter Custom, nor shall ever be allow'd to make new Laws, or rectify the old ones, I must leave the Young Nuns inclos'd to their best Endeavours, of making a Virtue of Necessity; and the young Wives, to make the best of a bad Market.
In _Iper_, a Town, not long since, in the Dominions of the King of _Spain_, and now in possession of the King of _France_, there liv'd a Man of Quality, of a considerable Fortune, call'd, Count _Henrick de Vallary_, who had a very beautiful Lady, by whom, he had one Daughter, call'd _Isabella_, whose Mother dying when she was about two years old to the unspeakable Grief of the Count, her Husband, he resolv'd never to partake of any Pleasure more, that this transitory World could court him with, but determin'd, with himself, to dedicate his Youth, and future Days, to Heaven, and to take upon him Holy Orders; and, without considering, that, possibly, the young _Isabella_, when she grew to Woman, might have Sentiments contrary to those that now possest him, he design'd she should also become a Nun; However, he was not so positive in that Resolution, as to put the matter wholly out of her Choice, but divided his Estate; one half he carried with him to the Monastery of _Jesuits_, of which number, he became one; and the other half, he gave with _Isabella_, to the Monastery, of which, his only Sister was Lady _Abbess_, of the Order of St. _Augustine_; but so he ordered the matter, that if, at the Age of Thirteen, _Isabella_ had not a mind to take Orders, or that the Lady _Abbess_ found her Inclination averse to a Monastick Life, she should have such a proportion of the Revenue, as should be fit to marry her to a Noble Man, and left it to the discretion of the Lady _Abbess_, who was a Lady of known Piety, and admirable strictness of Life, and so nearly related to _Isabella_, that there was no doubt made of her Integrity and Justice.
The little _Isabella_ was carried immediately (in her Mourning for her dead Mother) into the Nunnery, and was receiv'd as a very diverting Companion by all the young Ladies, and, above all, by her Reverend Aunt, for she was come just to the Age of delighting her Parents; she was the prettiest forward Pratler in the World, and had a thousand little Charms to please, besides the young Beauties that were just budding in her little Angel Face: So that she soon became the dear lov'd Favourite of the whole House; and as she was an Entertainment to them all, so they made it their study to find all the Diversions they could for the pretty _Isabella_; and as she grew in Wit and Beauty every day, so they fail'd not to cultivate her Mind; and delicate Apprehension, in all that was advantageous to her Sex, and whatever Excellency any one abounded in, she was sure to communicate it to the young _Isabella_, if one could Dance, another Sing, another play on this Instrument, and another on that; if this spoke one Language, and that another; if she had Wit, and she Discretion, and a third, the finest Fashion and Manners; all joyn'd to compleat the Mind and Body of this beautiful young Girl; Who, being undiverted with the less noble, and less solid, Vanities of the World, took to these Virtues, and excell'd in all; and her Youth and Wit being apt for all Impressions, she soon became a greater Mistress of their Arts, than those who taught her; so that at the Age of eight or nine Years, she was thought fit to receive and entertain all the great Men and Ladies, and the Strangers of any Nation, at the _Grate_; and that with so admirable a Grace, so quick and piercing a Wit, and so delightful and sweet a Conversation, that she became the whole Discourse of the Town, and Strangers spread her Fame, as prodigious, throughout the Christian World; for Strangers came daily to hear her talk, and sing, and play, and to admire her Beauty; and Ladies brought their Children, to shame 'em into good Fashion and Manners, with looking on the lovely young _Isabella_.