Volume V Part 19 (1/2)
This Letter _Belvira_ receiv'd with unspeakable Joy, and laid it up safely in her Bosom; laid it, where the dear Author of it lay before, and wonderfully pleas'd with his Humour of writing Verse, resolv'd not to be at all behind-hand with him, and so writ as follows:
_My dear Charmer,_
You knew before what Power your Love could boast, But now your constant Faith confirms me most.
Absent Sincerity the best a.s.sures, } Love may do much, but Faith much more allures, } For now your Constancy has bound me yours. } I find, methinks, in Verse some Pleasure too, I cannot want a Muse, who write to you.
Ah! soon return, return, my charming Dear, Heav'n knows how much we Mourn your Absence here: My poor _Celesia_ now would Charm your Soul, Her Eyes, once Blind, do now Divinely rowl.
An aged Matron has by Charms unknown, Given her clear Sight as perfect as thy own.
And yet, beyond her Eyes, she values thee, 'Tis for thy Sake alone she's glad to see.
She begg'd me, pray remember her to you, That is a Task which now I gladly do.
Gladly, since so I only recommend } A dear Relation, and a dearer Friend, } Ne're shall my Love--but here my Note must end. }
_Your ever true +Belvira+._
When this Letter was written, it was strait shown to _Celesia_, who look'd upon any Thing that belong'd to _Frankwit_, with rejoycing Glances; so eagerly she perus'd it, that her tender Eyes beginning to Water, she cry'd out, (fancying she saw the Words dance before her View) 'Ah! Cousin, Cousin, your Letter is running away, sure it can't go itself to _Frankwit_.' A great Deal of other pleasing innocent Things she said, but still her Eyes flow'd more bright with l.u.s.trous Beams, as if they were to s.h.i.+ne out; now all that glancing Radiancy which had been so long kept secret, and, as if, as soon as the Cloud of Blindness once was broke, nothing but Lightnings were to flash for ever after. Thus in mutual Discourse they spent their Hours, while _Frankwit_ was now ravished with the Receipt of this charming Answer of _Belvira's_, and blest his own Eyes which discovered to him the much welcome News of fair _Celesia's_. Often he read the Letters o're and o're, but there his Fate lay hid, for 'twas that very Fondness proved his Ruin. He lodg'd at a Cousin's House of his, and there, (it being a private Family) lodged likewise a Blackamoor Lady, then a Widower; a whimsical Knight had taken a Fancy to enjoy her: _Enjoy her did I say? Enjoy the Devil in the Flesh at once!_ I know not how it was, but he would fain have been a Bed with her, but she not consenting on unlawful Terms, (_but sure all Terms are with her unlawful_) the Knight soon marry'd her, as if there were not h.e.l.l enough in Matrimony, but he must wed the Devil too. The Knight a little after died, and left this Lady of his (whom I shall _Moorea_) an Estate of six thousand Pounds _per Ann_. Now this _Moorea_ observed the joyous _Frankwit_ with an eager Look, her Eyes seemed like Stars of the first Magnitude glaring in the Night; she greatly importuned him to discover the Occasion of his transport, but he denying it, (as 'tis the Humour of our s.e.x) made her the more Inquisitive; and being Jealous that it was from a Mistress, employ'd her Maid to steal it, and if she found it such, to bring it her: accordingly it succeeded, for _Frankwit_ having drank hard with some of the Gentlemen of that s.h.i.+re, found himself indisposed, and soon went to Bed, having put the Letter in his Pocket: The Maid therefore to _Moorea_ contrived that all the other Servants should be out of the Way, that she might plausibly officiate in the Warming the Bed of the indisposed Lover, but likely, had it not been so, she had warmed it by his Intreaties in a more natural Manner; he being in Bed in an inner Room, she slips out the Letter from his Pocket, carries it to her Mistress to read, and so restores it whence she had it; in the Morning the poor Lover wakened in a violent Fever, burning with a Fire more hot than that of Love. In short, he continued Sick a considerable while, all which time the Lady _Moorea_ constantly visited him, and he as unwillingly saw her (poor Gentleman) as he would have seen a Parson; for as the latter would have perswaded, so the former scared him to Repentance. In the mean while, during his sickness, several Letters were sent to him by his dear _Belvira_, and _Celesia_ too, (then learning to write) had made a s.h.i.+ft to give him a line or two in Postscript with her Cousin, but all was intercepted by the jealousy of the Black _Moorea_, black in her mind, and dark, as well as in her body. _Frankwit_ too writ several Letters as he was able, complaining of her unkindness, those likewise were all stopt by the same Blackmoor Devil. At last, it happened that _Wildvill_, (who I told my Reader was _Frankwit's_ friend) came to _London_, his Father likewise dead, and now Master of a very plentiful fortune, he resolves to marry, and paying a visit to _Belvira_, enquires of her concerning _Frankwit_, she all in mourning for the loss, told him his friend was dead. 'Ah! _Wildvill_, he is dead,' said she, 'and died not mine, a Blackmoor Lady had bewitched him from me; I received a Letter lately which informed me all; there was no name subscribed to it, but it intimated, that it was written at the request of dying _Frankwit_.' 'Oh! I am sorry at my Soul,' said _Wildvill_, 'for I loved him with the best, the dearest friends.h.i.+p; no doubt then,' rejoyned he, ''tis Witchcaft indeed that could make him false to you; what delight could he take in a Blackmoor Lady, tho' she had received him at once with a Soul as open as her longing arms, and with her Petticoat put off her modesty. G.o.ds! How could he change a whole _Field Argent_ into downright _Sables_.' ''Twas done,' returned _Celesia_, 'with no small blot, I fancy, to the Female 'Scutcheon.' In short, after some more discourse, but very sorrowful, _Wildvill_ takes his leave, extreamly taken with the fair _Belvira_, more beauteous in her cloud of woe; he paid her afterwards frequent visits, and found her wonder for the odd inconstancy of _Frankwit_, greater than her sorrow, since he dy'd so unworthy of her. _Wildvill_ attack'd her with all the force of vigorous love, and she (as she thought) fully convinc'd of _Frankwit's_ death, urg'd by the fury and impatience of her new ardent Lover, soon surrender'd, and the day of their Nuptials now arriv'd, their hands were joyn'd. In the mean time _Frankwit_ (for he still liv'd) knew nothing of the Injury the base _Moorea_ practis'd, knew not that 'twas thro' her private order, that the fore-mention'd account of his falshood and his death was sent; but impatient to see his Dear _Belvira_, tho' yet extremely weak, rid post to _London_, and that very day arriv'd there, immediately after the Nuptials of his Mistress and his Friend were celebrated. I was at this time in _Cambridge_, and having some small acquaintance with this Blackmoor Lady, and sitting in her Room that evening, after _Frankwit's_ departure thence, in _Moorea's_ absence, saw inadvertently a bundle of Papers, which she had gathered up, as I suppose, to burn, since now they grew but useless, she having no farther Hopes of him: I fancy'd I knew the Hand, and thence my Curiosity only led me to see the Name and finding _Belvira_ subscrib'd, I began to guess there was some foul play in Hand. _Belvira_ being my particularly intimate Acquaintance, I read one of them, and finding the Contents, convey'd them all secretly out with me, as I thought, in Point of Justice I was bound, and sent them to _Belvira_ by that Night's Post; so that they came to her Hands soon after the Minute of her Marriage, with an Account how, and by what Means I came to light on them. No doubt but they exceedingly surpriz'd her: But Oh! Much more she grew amaz'd immediately after, to see the Poor, and now unhappy _Frankwit_, who privately had enquir'd for her below, being received as a Stranger, who said he had some urgent Business with her, in a back Chamber below Stairs. What Tongue, what Pen can express the mournful Sorrow of this Scene! At first they both stood Dumb, and almost Senseless; she took him for the Ghost of _Frankwit_; he looked so pale, new risen from his Sickness, he (for he had heard at his Entrance in the House, that his _Belvira_ marry'd _Wildvill_) stood in Amaze, and like a Ghost indeed, wanted the Power to speak, till spoken to the first. At last, he draws his Sword, designing there to fall upon it in her Presence; she then imagining it his Ghost too sure, and come to kill her, shrieks out and Swoons; he ran immediately to her, and catch'd her in his Arms, and while he strove to revive and bring her to herself, tho' that he thought could never now be done, since she was marry'd. _Wildvill_ missing his Bride, and hearing the loud Shriek, came running down, and entring the Room, sees his Bride lie clasp'd in _Frankwit's_ Arms. 'Ha! Traytor!' He cries out, drawing his Sword with an impatient Fury, 'have you kept that Strumpet all this while, curst _Frankwit_, and now think fit to put your d.a.m.n'd cast Mistress upon me: could not you forbear her neither ev'n on my Wedding Day? abominable Wretch!' Thus saying, he made a full Pa.s.s at _Frankwit_, and run him thro' the left Arm, and quite thro' the Body of the poor _Belvira_; that thrust immediately made her start, tho'
_Frankwit's_ Endeavours all before were useless. Strange! that her Death reviv'd her! For ah! she felt, that now she only liv'd to die! Striving thro' wild Amazement to run from such a Scene of Horror, as her Apprehensions shew'd her; down she dropt, and _Frankwit_ seeing her fall, (all Friends.h.i.+p disannull'd by such a Chain of Injuries) Draws, fights with, and stabs his own loved _Wildvill_. Ah! Who can express the Horror and Distraction of this fatal Misunderstanding! The House was alarm'd, and in came poor _Celesia_, running in Confusion just as _Frankwit_ was off'ring to kill himself, to die with a false Friend, and perjur'd Mistress, for he suppos'd them such. Poor _Celesia_ now bemoan'd her unhappiness of sight, and wish'd she again were blind.
_Wildvill_ dy'd immediately, and _Belvira_ only surviv'd him long enough to unfold all their most unhappy fate, desiring _Frankwit_ with her dying breath, if ever he lov'd her, (and now she said that she deserv'd his love, since she had convinced him that she was not false) to marry her poor dear _Celesia_, and love her tenderly for her _Belvira's_ sake; leaving her, being her nearest Relation, all her fortune, and he, much dearer than it all, to be added to her own; so joyning his and _Celesia's_ Hands, she poured her last breath upon his Lips, and said, 'Dear _Frankwit_, _Frankwit_, I die yours.' With tears and wondrous sorrow he promis'd to obey her Will, and in some months after her interrment, he perform'd his promise.
NOTES: The Unfortunate Bride.
p. 401 _To Richard Norton._ This Epistle Dedicatory is only to be found in the first edition of _The Unfortunate Bride; or, The Blind Lady a Beauty_, 'Printed for Samuel Briscoe, in Charles-Street, Covent-Garden, 1698', and also dated, on t.i.tle page facing the portrait of Mrs. Behn, 1700.
Southwick, Hants, is a parish and village some 1 miles from Portchester, 4 from Fareham. Richard Norton was son and heir of Sir Daniel Norton, who died seised of the manor in 1636. Richard Norton married Anne, daughter of Sir William Earle, by whom he had one child, Sarah. He was, in his county at least, a figure of no little importance.
Tuesday, 12 August, 1701, Luttrell records that 'an addresse from the grand jury of Hamps.h.i.+re . . . was delivered by Richard Norton and Anthony Henly, esqs. to the lords justices, to be laid before his majestie.' He aimed at being a patron of the fine arts, and under his superintendence Dryden's _The Spanish Friar_ was performed in the frater of Southwick Priory,[1] the buildings of which had not been entirely destroyed at the suppression. Colley Cibber addresses the Dedicatory Epistle (January, 1695) of his first play, _Love's Last s.h.i.+ft_ (4to, 1696), to Norton in a highly eulogistic strain. The plate of Southwick Church (S. James), consisting of a communion cup, a standing paten, two flagons, an alms-dish, and a rat-tail spoon, is silver-gilt, and was presented by Richard Norton in 1691. He died 10 December, 1732.
[Footnote 1: The house was one of Black (Austin) Canons.]
THE DUMB VIRGIN; OR, THE FORCE OF IMAGINATION.
INTRODUCTION.
Consanguinity and love which are treated in this novel so romantically and with such tragic catastrophe had already been dealt with in happier mood by Mrs. Behn in _The Dutch Lover_. _Vide_ Note on the Source of that play, Vol. I, p. 218.
In cla.s.sic lore the dipus Saga enthralled the imagination of antiquity and inspired dramas amongst the world's masterpieces. Later forms of the tale may be found in Suidas and Cedrenus.
The Legend of St. Gregory, based on a similar theme, the hero of which, however, is innocent throughout, was widely diffused through mediaeval Europe. It forms No. 81 of the _Gesta Romanorum_. There is an old English poem[1] on the subject, and it also received lyric treatment at the hands of the German meistersinger, Hartmann von Aue. An Italian story, _Il Figliuolo di germani_, the chronicle of St. Albinus, and the Servian romaunt of the Holy Foundling Simeon embody similar circ.u.mstances.
Matteo Bandello, Part II, has a famous[2] novel (35) with rubric, 'un gentiluomo navarrese sposa una, che era sua sorella e figliuola, non lo sapendo,' which is almost exactly the same as the thirtieth story of the _Heptameron_. As the good Bishop declares that it was related to him by a lady living in the district, it is probable that some current tradition furnished both him and the Queen of Navarre with these horrible incidents and that neither copied from the other.[3]
Bandello was imitated in Spanish by J. Perez de Montalvan, _Sucesos y Prodigios de Amor--La Mayor confusion_; in Latin by D. Otho Melander; and he also gave Desfontaines the subject of _L'Inceste Innocent; Histoire Veritable_ (Paris, 1644). A similar tale is touched upon in _Amadis de Gaule_, and in a later century we find _Le Criminel sans le Savoir, Roman Historique et Poetique_ (Amsterdam and Paris, 1783). It is also found in Brevio's _Rime e Prose_; Volgari, novella iv; and in T. Grapulo (or Grappolino), _Il Convito Borghesiano_ (Londra, 1800).