Such were her Thoughts, and such her Cryes, till the Light brought on new Matter for Grief; for, about Ten of the Clock, News was brought, that Two Men were found dead in the River, and that they were carry’d to the Town-Hall, to lye there, till they were own’d: Within an hour after, News was brought in, that one of these Unhappy Men was Villenoys; his Valet, who, all this while, imagin’d him in Bed with his Lady, ran to the Hall, to undeceive the People, for he knew, if his Lord were gone out, he should have been call’d to Dress him; but finding it, as ’twas reported, he fell a weeping, and wringing his Hands, in a most miserable manner, he ran home with the News; where, knocking at his Lady’s Chamber Door, and finding it fast lock’d, he almost hop’d again, he was deceiv’d; but Isabella rising, and opening the Door, Maria first enter’d weeping, with the News, and then brought the Valet, to testify the fatal Truth of it. Isabella, tho’ it were nothing but what she expected to hear, almost swounded in her Chair; nor did she feign it, but felt really all the Pangs of Killing Grief; and was so alter’d with her Night’s Watching and Grieving, that this new Sorrow look’d very Natural in her. When she was recover’d, she asked a thousand Questions about him, and question’d the Possibility of it; for (said she) he went out this Morning early from me, and had no signs, in his Face, of any Grief or Discontent. Alas! (said the Valet) Madam, he is not his own Murderer, some one has done it in Revenge; and then told her, how he was found fasten’d to a Sack, with a dead strange Man ty’d up within it; and every body concludes, that they were both first murder’d, and then drawn to the River, and thrown both in. At the Relation of this Strange Man, she seem’d more amaz’d than before, and commanding the Valet to go to the Hall, and to take Order about the Coroner’s sitting on the Body of Villenoys, and then to have it brought home: She called Maria to her, and, after bidding her shut the Door, she cry’d, Ah, Maria! I will tell thee what my Heart imagins; but first, (said she) run to the Chamber of the Stranger, and see, if he be still in Bed, which I fear he is not; she did so, and brought word, he was gone; then (said she) my Forebodings are true. When I was in Bed last night, with Villenoys (and at that word, she sigh’d as if her Heart-Strings had broken) I told him, I had lodg’d a Stranger in my House, who was by, when my first Lord and Husband fell in Battel; and that, after the Fight, finding him yet alive, he spoke to him, and gave him that Ring you brought me last Night; and conjur’d him, if ever his Fortune should bring him to Flanders, to see me, and give me that Ring, and tell me—(with that, she wept, and could scarce speak) a thousand tender and endearing things, and then dy’d in his Arms. For my dear Henault’s sake (said she) I us’d him nobly, and dismiss’d you that Night, because I was asham’d to have any Witness of the Griefs I paid his Memory: All this I told to Villenoys whom I found disorder’d; and, after a sleepless Night, I fancy he got up, and took this poor Man, and has occasion’d his Death: At that, she wept anew, and Maria, to whom, all that her Mistress said, was Gospel, verily believ’d it so, without examining Reason; and Isabella conjuring her, since none of the House knew of the old Man’s being there, (for Old he appear’d to be) that she would let it for ever be a Secret, and, to this she bound her by an Oath; so that none knowing Henault, altho’ his Body was expos’d there for three Days to Publick View: When the Coroner had Set on the Bodies, he found, they had been first Murder’d some way or other, and then afterwards tack’d together, and thrown into the River, they brought the Body of Villenoys home to his House, where, it being laid on a Table, all the House infinitely bewail’d it; and Isabella did nothing but swound away, almost as fast as she recover’d Life; however, she would, to compleat her Misery, be led to see this dreadful Victim of her Cruelty, and, coming near the Table, the Body, whose Eyes were before close shut, now open’d themselves wide, and fix’d them upon Isabella, who, giving a great Schreek, fell down in a swound, and the Eyes clos’d again; they had much ado to bring her to Life, but, at last, they did so, and led her back to her Bed, where she remain’d a good while. Different Opinions and Discourses were made, concerning the opening of the Eyes of the Dead Man, and viewing Isabella; but she was a Woman of so admirable a Life and Conversation, of so undoubted a Piety and Sanctity of Living, that not the least Conjecture could be made, of her having a hand in it, besides the improbability of it; yet the whole thing was a Mystery, which, they thought, they ought to look into: But a few Days after, the Body of Villenoys being interr’d in a most magnificent manner, and, by Will all he had, was long since setled on Isabella, the World, instead of Suspecting her, Ador’d her the more, and every Body of Quality was already hoping to be next, tho’ the fair Mourner still kept her Bed, and Languish’d daily.
It happen’d, not long after this, there came to the Town a French Gentleman, who was taken at the Siege of Candia, and was Fellow-Slave with Henault, for seven Years, in Turky, and who had escap’d with Henault, and came as far as Liege with him, where, having some Business and Acquaintance with a Merchant, he stay’d some time; but when he parted with Henault, he ask’d him, Where he should find him in Flanders? Henault gave him a Note, with his Name, and Place of Abode, if his Wife were alive; if not, to enquire at his Sister’s, or his Father’s. This French Man came at last, to the very House of Isabella, enquiring for this Man, and receiv’d a strange Answer, and was laugh’d at; He found, that was the House, and that the Lady; and enquiring about the Town, and speaking of Henault’s Return, describing the Man, it was quickly discover’d, to be the same that was in the Sack: He had his Friend taken up (for he was buried) and found him the same, and, causing a Barber to Trim him, when his bushy Beard was off, a great many People remember’d him; and the French Man affirming, he went to his own Home, all Isabella’s Family, and her self, were cited before the Magistrate of Justice, where, as soon as she was accus’d, she confess’d the whole Matter of Fact, and, without any Disorder, deliver’d her self in the Hands of Justice, as the Murderess of two Husbands (both belov’d) in one Night: The whole World stood amaz’d at this; who knew her Life a Holy and Charitable Life, and how dearly and well she had liv’d with her Husbands, and every one bewail’d her Misfortune, and she alone was the only Person, that was not afflicted for her self; she was Try’d, and Condemn’d to lose her Head; which Sentence, she joyfully receiv’d, and said, Heaven, and her Judges, were too Merciful to her, and that her Sins had deserv’d much more.
While she was in Prison, she was always at Prayers, and very Chearful and Easie, distributing all she had amongst, and for the Use of, the Poor of the Town, especially to the Poor Widows; exhorting daily, the Young, and the Fair, that came perpetually to visit her, never to break a Vow: for that was first the Ruine of her, and she never since prosper’d, do whatever other good Deeds she could. When the day of Execution came, she appear’d on the Scaffold all in Mourning, but with a Meen so very Majestick and Charming, and a Face so surprizing Fair, where no Languishment or Fear appear’d, but all Chearful as a Bride, that she set all Hearts a flaming, even in that mortifying Minute of Preparation for Death: She made a Speech of half an Hour long, so Eloquent, so admirable a warning to the Vow-Breakers, that it was as amazing to hear her, as it was to behold her.
After she had done with the help of Maria, she put off her Mourning Vail, and, without any thing over her Face, she kneel’d down, and the Executioner, at one Blow, sever’d her Beautiful Head from her Delicate Body, being then in her Seven and Twentieth Year. She was generally Lamented, and Honourably Bury’d.
FINIS.
[ Notes: Critical and Explanatory:]
The History of the Nun.
[p. 262] The Dutchess of Mazarine. Hortense Mancini, niece of the great Cardinal, was born at Rome in 1646. Her beauty and wit were such that Charles II (whilst in exile) and other princes of royal blood sought her hand. She married, however, 28 February, 1661, Armand-Charles de la Meilleraye, said to be ‘the richest subject in Europe’. The union was unhappy, and in 1666 she demanded a judicial separation. Fearful, however, lest this should be refused, she fled from Paris 13 June, 1668, and, after several years of wandering, in 1675 came to London at the invitation of Charles II, who assigned her a pension. Her gallantries, her friendship with Saint-Evremond, her lavish patronage of the fine arts and literature are well known. She died at her Chelsea house in the summer of 1699. Her end is said to have been hastened by intemperance. Evelyn dubs her ‘the famous beauty and errant lady.’
THE NUN; OR,
THE PERJUR’D BEAUTY.
[THE NUN:]
or, The Perjur’d Beauty.
A True Novel.
Don Henrique was a Person of great Birth, of a great Estate, of a Bravery equal to either, of a most generous Education, but of more Passion than Reason: He was besides of an opener and freer Temper than generally his Countrymen are (I mean, the Spaniards) and always engag’d in some Love-Intrigue or other.