Life's Progress Through the Passions; Or, The Adventures of Natura

by Eliza Fowler Haywood

Some hours were passed in this perplexed situation, and Natura expected no better than to remain there till morning, when he heard a voice at a little distance, cry, “Who goes there?” Never had any music been half so pleasing to the ears of Natura. “Friends,” replied he, “and travellers, that have lost their way.” On this the person who had spoke, drew nearer, and asked whither they were bent. Natura told him to the villa of the baron d' Eyrac. “The baron d' Eyrac,” said the other, “he lives twelve miles on the other side the wood, and that is five miles over.” — He then asked if there were no town near, to which he could direct them. — “No,” replied the other, “but there is a little village where is one inn, and that is above half a league off: — you will never find your way to it; but if you will pay me, I will guide you.” Natura wished no more, and having agreed with him for his hire, followed where he led.

Nothing that was ever called an inn, had so much the shew of wretchedness; nor could it be expected otherwise, for being far from any great road, it was frequented only by shepherds, and others the meanest sort of peasants, who worked in the adjacent grounds, or tended the cattle.

In this miserable place was Natura obliged to take up his lodging: — he lay down, indeed, on the ragged dirty mattress, but durst not take off his cloaths, so noisome was every thing about him: — fatigued as he was, he could not close his eyes till towards day, but had not slept above two hours before the peasant who had served him as a guide, and had also stayed at the inn, came into his room, and waked him abruptly, telling him the lady abbess desired to speak with him. — Natura was much vexed at this disturbance, and not sufficiently awaked to recollect himself, only cried peevishly, “What have I to do with abbesses,” and then turned to sleep again.

On his second waking, his footman acquainted him, that a priest waited to see him: — Natura then remembered what the peasant had said, but could not conceive what business these holy people had with him; he went down however immediately, and was saluted by a reverend gentleman, who told him, that the lady abbess of a neighbouring monastery (whose almoner he was) hearing from one of her shepherds the distress he had been in, had sent to intreat he would come, and refresh himself with what her convent afforded.

Natura was now ashamed of having been so rough with the peasant, but well atoned for it by the handsome apology he now made; after which he told the almoner, that he would receive the abbess's commands as soon as he was in a condition to be seen by her. — This was what good manners exacted from him, tho' in truth he had no inclination for a visit, in which he proposed so little satisfaction.

He then made his servant open the portmanteau, and give him such things as were proper to equip him for this visit; and while he was dressing, was informed by his host, that this abbess was a woman of quality, very rich, and owned the village they were in, and several others, which brought her in more rent.

If the vanity so natural to a young heart, made Natura, on this information, pleased and proud of the consideration such a lady had for him while unknown, how much more cause had he to be so, when being shewn by the same peasant into the monastery, he was brought into a parlour, magnificently furnished, and no sooner had sat down, than a very beautiful woman, whom he soon found was the lady abbess, appeared behind the grate, and welcomed him with the most elegant compliments.

He had never been in a monastery before, and had a notion that all the nuns, especially the abbesses, were ill-natured old women: he was therefore so much surprized at the sight of this lady, that he had scarce power to return the politeness she treated him with. — Her age exceeded not twenty-four; she was fair to an excess, had fine-turned features, and an air which her ecclesiastic habit could not deprive of its freedom; but the enchanting manner of her conversation, her wit, and the gaiety that accompanied all she said, so much astonished and transported him, that he cried out, without knowing that he did so, “Good God! — is it possible a monastery can contain such charms!” — She affected to treat the admiration he expressed, as no other than meer bagatelle; but how serious a satisfaction she took in it, a very little time discovered.

“A monastery,” said she, “is not so frightful a solitude as you, being a stranger to the manners of this country, have perhaps painted to yourself: — I have companions in whom I believe you will find some agreements.” — She then rung a bell, and ordered an attending nun, or what they call a lay-sister, to call some of the sisterhood, whose names she mentioned; and presently came two nuns, with a third lady in a different habit; the least handsome of these might have passed for a beauty, but she that was the most so I shall call Elgidia; she was sister to the abbess, but wanted a good many of her years, and being intended for a monastic life by their parents, had been sent there as a pensioner, till she should be prevailed upon to take the veil.

The abbess, having learned from Natura that he was from England, told them, in a few words, what she knew of him, and the motive of the invitation she had made him; then desired they would entertain him till her return, having some affair, which called her thence for a small time.