Natura said every thing that love and wit could inspire, to reconcile her to what had past; but she remained inflexible, and only condescended to request him to leave the place before the opera was ended, that they might not be seen coming out together, and that he would tell signior Carrana, that having unexpectedly found a lady in the box, he had withdrawn without entering.—He then begged she would entertain a more favourable opinion of an action, which her beauty, the bewitching softness of the entertainment, and the place they were in, had all concurred to make him guilty of; but she would listen to nothing on that head, insisted on his never taking the least notice of her, wherever they might chance to meet; and only told him, that tho' she was unalterably fixed in this resolution, yet he might depend upon it she hated him less than she did herself.

Finding she was not to be moved, he obeyed her commands, and straight went out of the box, more amazed at the oddness of the adventure, than can be well expressed; and yet more so, when he afterwards heard she was the wife of a person of great condition, was in the first month of her marriage with him, and had the reputation of a woman of strict virtue.

As this false step was meerly accidental, wholly unpremeditated on either side, and by what can be judged by the character of the lady, and her behaviour afterwards, was no more on her part than a surprize on the senses, in which the mind was not consulted, and had not the least share, I know not whether it may not more justly be called a slip of unguarded nature, than a real crime in her; and as for Natura, though certainly the most guilty of the two, whoever considers his youth, his constitution, and above all the greatness of the temptation, which presented itself before him, will allow, that he must either have been more, or less, than man, to have behaved otherwise than he did.

Let the most severely virtuous, who happily have never fallen into the same error, but figure to themselves the circumstances of this transgressing pair, and well consider in what manner nature must operate, when thus powerfully excited, and if they are not rendered totally incapable of any soft sensations, by an uncommon frigidity of constitution, they will cease either to wonder at, or too cruelly condemn, the effects of so irresistible an impulse.

Were it not for the precepts of religion and morality, the fears of scandal, and shame of offending against law and custom, man would undoubtedly think himself intitled to the same privileges which the brute creation in this point enjoy above him; and it is not therefore strange, that whenever reason nods, as it sometimes will do, even in those who are most careful to preserve themselves under its subjection, that the senses ever craving, ever impatient for gratification, should readily snatch the opportunity of indulging themselves, and which it is observable they ordinarily do to the greater excess, by so much the longer, and the more strictly they have been kept under restraint.



CHAP. III.

The uncertainty of human events displayed in many surprizing turns of fortune, which befel Natura, on his endeavouring to settle himself in the world: with some proofs of the necessity of fortitude, as it may happen that actions, excited by the greatest virtue, may prove the source of evil, both to ourselves and others.

Natura stayed but six months in Rome, and then passed on to Florence, where having seen all the curiosities that place afforded, he only waited to receive some remittances from his father, after which he intended to cross the Appenines to Bolognio, then proceed to Venice, and so through the Tirolose to Vienna, and flattered himself with having time enough to visit all the different courts which compose the mighty empire of Germany.

These remittances were delayed much longer than he had expected, and when they arrived, were accompanied by a positive command from his father to put an end to his travels, and return to England with all the expedition he could.—His surprize at so unlooked for an order, would have been equal to the mortification it gave him, if he had not received a letter from his sister at the same time, which informed him, that his being so suddenly recalled was wholly owing to the misfortunes in which their family was at present involved:—that soon after his departure, their father had discovered an intercourse between his wife and a person who pretended to be a relation, no way to the honour of either of them;—that frequent quarrels had at length separated them;—that he was engaged in a law-suit with her, and also in several others, with people to whom she, in revenge, as it was supposed, had given bonds, dated before marriage, for very great sums of money, pretended to have been borrowed of them by her;—that tho' the imposition was too gross not to be easily seen through, yet the forms of the courts of judicature could not be dispensed with, and the continual demands made upon him had laid him under such inconveniencies as obliged him even to lessen the number of his servants, and retrench his table:—she added, that he spoke of his dear Natura with the utmost tenderness, and was under a very great concern that the necessity of his affairs would not permit to send him any more such supplies as were requisite for the prosecution of his travels.

Natura at first felt a very great shock at this account; but it is the peculiar blessing of youth, not to be for any length of time affected with misfortunes; his melancholly soon dissipated, and he thought of nothing more than compliance with the command he had received, and also to perform it in the cheapest manner he could.—On speaking of his intentions of returning home, he was advised to go to Leghorn, which being a very great port, it would be no difficulty to find a ship bound for Holland or England, in which he might take his passage at an easy rate. He had certainly taken this method, but meeting with an English gentleman, who was on his travels, and had not yet been at Rome, was perswaded by him to go back, on his offering to bear the whole expences of that route, for the pleasure of his company.—After a stay of two or three months there, they pursued their journey to Paris, where Natura renewed all the former acquaintance he had there:—the baron d' Eyrac, with whom he had contracted an intimate friendship, and from whom he concealed nothing of his affairs, was extremely concerned to hear the occasion of his being recalled so much sooner than he had expected, and made him an offer which suited very well with Natura's inclination to accept: it was this.

That an old officer in the army having obtained leave to dispose of his commission, Natura should become the purchaser; and to enable him to do so, the baron would advance a sum of money, to be returned at several easy payments, as he received the profits arising from his troop.

Love and gallantry had already had their turns with Natura; ambition, and the pride of being in an independent state, began now to work in him:—as France was in alliance with England, there was neither shame nor danger in entering into her service:—besides, he considered, that as his father was no longer in a condition to supply him with money abroad, he could not expect any settlement to be made on him at home that would be answerable to his former expectations;—and that by a captain's pay, joined to some assistance he might hope to receive sometimes from England, he should be enabled to make a very good figure in the world, till the misfortunes of his family should be retrieved, and if they never were so, he should at least have a provision for life, in a country he was not weary of.

He therefore made no hesitation of accepting this proof of the baron's friendship, who immediately went about making good his promise; and what with his money, and the great interest he had, both with the court and army, Natura was dispensed with, for not having been in the service before; and in a very few days saw himself at the head of a troop of horse.

His father, to whom he wrote an account of the step he had taken, with his motives for it, was far from being offended at it; tho' he told him it added to his trouble, to think his eldest son should be compelled, by his having entered into a second marriage, to have recourse to any avocation whatever for bread; but concluded with telling him, that in the severe necessity of their present circumstances, he could not have pitched on any thing more agreeable to his inclinations, or more honourable in itself.

This letter served to compose all the disquiets Natura had of disobliging a parent, for whom he retained the most tender, as well as dutiful regard, ever since the kind forgiveness be received from him at Wapping, which shews the great effect of lenity over a mind, where gratitude and generosity are not wholly extinguished; which, as I before observed, they never are, but by a long habitude of vice.

He was now as happy as he had any need to wish to be, enjoying all the pleasures of life in a reasonable way, and rarely transgressing the bounds of moderation; and when at any time, through the prevalence of example, or the force of his own passions, he was hurried to some little excesses, they were never such as could incur the censure of dishonourable or mean. He was punctual to his payments with the baron, and had the satisfaction of seeing himself intirely out of debt at three years end; which manner of behaviour so endeared him to that gentleman, that few friendships are to be found more sincere, than that which subsisted between them.

But as good sometimes arises out of evil, so what is in itself a real happiness, is not always without consequences altogether the reverse; as it proved to Natura, who from the most contented situation, all owing to the baron's friendship, was, on a sudden, by that very friendship, thrown into one of the greatest trouble and danger.

One morning, as he was dressing, the baron entered his chamber, with a countenance which before he spoke, denoted he had somewhat of importance to communicate:—Natura easily perceived it, and to put him out of pain, ordered his valet to leave the room; on which the other immediately told him, he was come to desire a proof of that sincere good-will he had professed for him.—'I should,' replied he, 'be the most unworthy of mankind, if I had not in reality much more than is in the power of words to express, and not look on an opportunity given by you of testifying it, equal to any favour you have bestowed on me.'

The baron was at present in too much agitation of spirit to answer this compliment as he would have done at another time; and made haste to inform him, that the countess d' Ermand, who on some misunderstanding with her husband, had been confined in a monastery for several months, without any hopes of obtaining her release, had found means to convey a letter to him, earnestly requesting he would assist her in her escape:—'she has acquainted me,' continued he, 'with the plot she has laid;—there is nothing impracticable in it; but I cannot do what she desires without the help of some trusty friend, and it is you alone I dare rely upon, in a business, which, if not carefully concealed, as well as resolutely acted, may be of very ill consequence.'

Natura did not greatly relish this piece of knight-errantry; but as he thought he ought to refuse nothing to the baron, hesitated not to assure him of the most ready compliance; on which the other told him, he must get two or three of his soldiers, who, disguised like peasants, but well mounted, and their swords concealed under their cloaths, must attend the expedition, and be at hand in case they should meet with any resistance, which, however, he said he did not apprehend, it being but ten small miles to the monastery, the road but little frequented, and the time agreed upon for the execution of the project twelve at night; so there was no great danger of any interruption, unless some unfortunate accident should happen.—'The lady,' continued he, 'informs me she has observed the place where the portress constantly hangs up the key of the outer gate every night, and when the nuns are gone into the chapel to their midnight devotions, can easily slip out:—we have only therefore to be there exactly at the time, and be ready to receive her; and as for the rest, I have already provided a place where she may remain undiscovered, till something can be done for her.'

The baron added many things concerning the ill treatment she had received; but Natura did not give himself any trouble to examine into the merits of the cause, it was sufficient for him to do what he requested of him; and that night being the same had been appointed by the lady for the business to be done, he went immediately about preparing for it.

Accordingly, he selected from out of his troop three who seemed most proper to be employed in such an enterprize, and after having sworn them to secrecy in whatever they saw, or should happen, though without acquainting them with the main of the affair, or mentioning the baron d' Eyrac, told them in what manner they were to disguise themselves, and ordered they should attend him at the Fauxbourg, a little after ten o'clock the same night.

Rejoiced at an opportunity of obliging their officer, especially as they doubted not of being well gratified, each gave a thousand oaths instead of the one required of him, to be both punctual and faithful in the discharge of the trust reposed in him.

In fine, all was conducted with a care and caution becoming of the gratitude and esteem Natura had for the baron, and as if he had himself approved of this undertaking, which, as I before observed, he could not do in his heart.

The two gentlemen, muffled up in their cloaks and vizarded, repaired to the Fauxbourg, at the appointed time, where they found the soldiers on the post allotted for them by their officer; on which they all rode off together, and arrived before the walls of the monastery some few minutes before twelve, at which hour precisely the gate was opened, and a woman appeared at it.—To prevent the loss of time, it had been concluded, that the baron should not dismount, but Natura perform the office of an equerry, in placing her behind him: just as he had alighted, and taken her in his arms, in order to perform that office, a great noise was heard; and in an instant, our adventurers found themselves surrounded by more than a dozen armed men, who rushed upon them from the covert of a wood:—the lady shrieked, and ran back into the convent, on Natura's letting her go, in order to draw his sword against these antagonists, who seemed resolute, either to kill or take him and his associates prisoners:—the fight was obstinate on both sides, tho' the baron finding his design defeated, had not entered into it at first, but trusted to the goodness of his horse for his escape, if his consideration for Natura, who being on foot, must have been immediately seized, had not prevented him.—At length, however, having received two or three wounds, and convinced of the impossibility of maintaining their ground against such an inequality of numbers, self-preservation prevailed; he broke thro' those that encompassed him, and setting spurs to his horse, had the good fortune to avoid the mischief which he knew must inevitably befal those he left behind.

The three troopers gallantly defended their captain for some time, nor was he idle in making those who approached him too near, feel the sharpness of his sword; but not being able to get on horseback, all his courage, or that of his men, could not prevent him, and them, from being made prisoners. Several of the conquering party being officers of justice, they conducted them to Paris, where the soldiers were disposed of in the common goal, but Natura who was known, was committed to the care of an exempt, who treated him with the good manners his station demanded; he had received a pretty deep wound in the shoulder, and a surgeon was presently sent for; but no artery nor sinew being touched, no ill consequence was like to attend it.

It may be imagined he passed the remainder of this night in a good deal of disquiet, as having lived long enough in France to know that an attempt of the nature he had been engaged in would find little mercy from the law.—A good part of the next day was passed, before they carried him to the magistrate, whose office it was to examine into such causes, his adversaries not having prepared their accusation; the heads of which were, that he had attempted a rape upon a married woman of quality; that he had contrived, with other persons, to take her out of the monastery, and had come with an armed force for that purpose. These articles having been deposed upon oath, the magistrate told him his crime was of a double nature, that he had violated both the civil and ecclesiastic laws; but as his office extended no farther than the former, he had only to demand of him what defence he had to make for himself in that part.

Natura had no other remedy than to deny all that was laid to his charge:—he protested, as he might truly do, that he was so far from entertaining any criminal designs on any lady in that monastery, that he did not so much as know the face of any one of them; and pretended, that being only riding out for the benefit of the air, he found himself attacked by persons unknown, with whom he confessed he had fought in his own defence.

But this availed not at all to his justification:—his own soldiers, who had been examined before himself, had confessed, that they were commanded by their officer to attend him on a certain enterprize, in which they were to behave with secresy and resolution; but said, they did not know of what sort it was, till they saw a woman come to the gate of the monastery, whom their captain presently took in his arms, but with what intent they could not pretend to say.

A letter also was produced, which madame d' Ermand had dropt, and which had occasioned this discovery of the intrigue, as it contained the whole method by which she was to be taken away; and tho' there was no name subscribed, appearances were strong against Natura as the author, and tho' he offered to bring many witnesses to prove it was a hand very different from what he wrote, yet it served at least to prove that it was sent by some one person in the company, and that if he were not the principal in this conspiracy, yet being the agent and abettor, as it was plain he was, by his bringing his own soldiers, he could not be judged less guilty.

After a long examination he was remanded to the exempt's house, till the sitting of the judges, which they told him would be in eight days; in which interval he was allowed to prepare what defence he had to make, and for that purpose advocates were allowed to come to him, but no other person whatever, not even his own servant, and he received attendance from those belonging to the exempt, who also fetched from his lodgings change of apparel, and all such necessaries as he had occasion for; care being taken to search every thing before it came to his hands, in order to prevent any letters being conveyed to him that way.

In this melancholly situation did he pass his time; but that was little in regard to his apprehensions of the future:—as his case stood there was little expectation of any thing less than a shameful death, perhaps ushered in by tortures worse than even that:—his advocates, however, and it is likely his accusers too, were of opinion that he had been in reality no more than an agent in this business, and therefore gave him to understand, that if he laid open the whole truth, and declared the name of the person chiefly concerned, it would greatly mitigate the severity of the laws in such cases; but this he would by no means be prevailed upon to do, resolving rather to suffer every thing they could inflict upon him, than be guilty of so mean and dishonourable an action as breach of trust, even to a person indifferent, but to a friend villainous in the most superlative degree: alike unmoved by arguments, as inflexible to menaces or perswasions, he persisted in answering, that he was ignorant of what they aimed at:—that he knew nothing of madame d' Ermand himself, was an intire stranger to her, and equally so to the ill designs on her they mentioned, either on his own account, of that of any other person.

He was neither so weak nor vain as to flatter himself his positiveness in denying what could be proved by so many witnesses, would be of any service at his trial; but as it was expected he should say something in his defence, and could say nothing else, without giving up his friend, he was determined not to depart from what he had alledged at first.

The count d' Ermand, who possibly had a suspicion of the truth, as it seems he long had entertained some jealous thoughts of the baron d' Eyrac, who had taken all opportunities of testifying an uncommon gallantry to his wife, would have given almost a limb to satiate his revenge against that gentleman:—the soldiers had been re-examined several times concerning that other person who was with them at the monastery, and had made his escape; but as they had neither seen his face, nor heard his name, it was impossible for them to make any discoveries:—these poor wretches were afterwards put to the torture, but that had, nor indeed could have, any other effect, than to make them curse their officer, who had been the cause of their sufferings.

In fine, monsieur d' Ermand, and the kindred of his wife, joined with the instigations of the clergy, who thought they had an equal right for revenge in this point, prevailed so far upon the civil magistrates, as to procure an order, that Natura should himself undergo the same tortures his soldiers had done, thereby to extort that confession from him they could no otherwise procure:—this, notwithstanding, they had the lenity to inform him of, the day before that which was prefixed for the execution, thinking perhaps, that the menace of what he was condemned to endure, would be sufficient: but tho' human nature could not but shrink under such apprehensions, yet did his fortitude remain unshaken, and he thought of nothing but how to arm himself, so as to bear all should be inflicted on him with courage.

But there were no more than a few hours in which he had to meditate on what he had to do, when his affairs took a very different turn, and by the most unthought-of means imaginable: It was towards the close of day, when the wife of the exempt came into his chamber, and having locked the door, 'I am come, captain,' said she, 'to offer you life, liberty, and what is yet more, to put it in your power to avoid those dreadful tortures, which are preparing for you!—what would you do to gratify your preserver?'—The surprize Natura was in, did not hinder him from replying, that there was nothing with which he would not purchase such a deliverance, provided the terms were not inconsistent with his honour:—'No,' resumed she, 'I know by your behaviour since in custody, and the resolution with which you have withstood all the temptations laid before you, for the unravelling an affair, you have, it is the opinion of every one, been led into only by your friendship to some person, that you regard nothing so much as honour; what I have to propose will be no breach of it';—'but,' continued she, 'time is precious, and opportunities of speaking to you are scarce; therefore know, in a few words, that I am weary of my husband's ill usage, desire nothing so much as to go where I may never see him more; and if you will make me the companion of your flight, and swear to take care of me till I shall otherwise dispose of myself; I have disguises for both of us prepared, and this night you shall be free.'

Natura had little need to hesitate if he should accept this proposal:—he saw there was at least a chance for escaping the dangers to which he was exposed; and should the woman's plot miscarry, and he detected of being an accomplice in it, his condition could not, even then, be worse than it was at present; he therefore embraced her with a fervor which she seemed very well pleased with, and assured her in the most solemn manner he would return all the obligations she conferred on him, by such ways as should be most agreeable to her. She then told him she had not slept for some time in the same bed with her husband, and therefore might easily come to him again as soon as the family were gone to their respective apartments; and having said this, went out of the room hastily, tho' not without returning his salute, and telling him he was worthy of greater risques than those she was about to run.

He was no sooner left alone, than he began to reflect: on the capriciousness of his destiny, which to preserve him from suffering for a crime he was innocent of, was about to make him in reality guilty of one of the very same nature: it is likely, however, he was not troubled with many scruples on this head; or if any arose in his mind, they were soon dissipated in the consideration of what he owed to his own safety, which he yet could not greatly flatter himself with the hope of, as he was not ignorant how difficult it was for a delinquent to elude the diligence of those sent in search of him. The chance of such a thing notwithstanding was not to be neglected; and he waited with an impatience adequate to the occasion, for the hour in which he expected his deliverance.

It was little more than eleven o'clock, when she came into the chamber in the habit of a country fellow, which so intirely disguised her, that till she spoke, he took her for one of those who attend the prisoners in the circumstances he then was, and imagined some accident had prevented the execution of her plot; but he was soon convinced of his error, by her speaking, and at the same time presenting him with a coat, wig, and every thing proper to make him pass for such as she appeared herself:—the reader may suppose he wasted not much time in equipping himself, or in making any idle compliments; it was scarce midnight, when they both got safely out of the house, the door of which she shut softly after her.

She then proposed to him to go to the Fauxbourg, whence they might, without any suspicion, as passing for poor countrymen, get into the open road before day-break; but he would needs stop at the baron d' Eyrac's, judging with good reason that they might be more securely concealed in his house, till the search should be over, than to pretend to travel in any shape whatever. She, who knew not what obligations the baron had to be faithful to him in this point, at first opposed it; but he at length prevailed, and they went boldly to the door; the family not being all in bed, it was immediately opened, but in the dress they were, found some difficulty to be admitted to the baron, who, the servant told them, was asleep; but Natura, with an admirable presence of mind, replied, that he had brought a letter from a friend in the country of the utmost importance, and must be delivered into the baron's own hands directly; on which he was at last won to let them come into the hall, while he sent to let his lord know.

Whether the baron had any suspicion of the truth, or not, is uncertain, but he ordered the men should be brought up; Natura, however, thought it most proper to speak to him alone, therefore left his companion below:—never was surprize greater than that of this nobleman, when the other discovered himself to him, and the means by which he had been set free. After the first demonstrations of joy and gratitude for the integrity he had shewn in resolving to endure every thing, rather than betray the trust reposed in him, it was judged necessary to send for his deliverer, to whom on her coming up, the baron made many compliments.

On discoursing on what method was best for them to take, in order to prevent discovery, the baron would by no means suffer them to pursue that of endeavouring to quit France till the search would be made should be entirely over; he told them, he had a place where he could answer with his life for their concealment, which indeed was that he had provided for the countess d' Ermand, in case they had not been disappointed in their designs.—'There,' said he, 'you may remain, and be furnished with all things necessary;—I can come frequently to you, and inform you what passes, and when you may depart with safety, after we have contrived the means.'

The exempt's wife, as well as Natura, highly approved of this offer; and the baron knowing any stay in his house might be dangerous both to himself and them, presently dressed himself, and went with them to the house he mentioned, where having seen them safe lodged, took his leave for that night, but seldom let a day pass without seeing them.

This was doubtless the only asylum which could have protected them from the strict search was made the next day, the house of every person, with whom either Natura or the woman had the least acquaintance, was carefully examined; but this scrutiny was soon over in that part, they supposed them to have left the city, and officers were sent in pursuit of them every road they could be imagined to take; so that had they fled, they must unavoidably have been taken. But not to be too tedious, it was five weeks before the baron could think it safe for them to leave Paris; and then hearing their enemies had lost all hope of finding them, and that the general opinion was, that they were quite got off, he told Natura that he believed they now might venture to go, taking proper precautions. On taking leave, he compelled Natura to accept of bills to the value of his commission, which, as he said, being lost meerly on his account, it was his duty to re-imburse:—nothing could be more tender than the parting of these two faithful friends;—necessity, however, must be obeyed;—they separated, after having settled every thing between them, and mutually promised to keep a correspondence by letters.

It was judged best, and safest for them, to keep still in the same disguise till they should be entirely out of the French dominions, which happily at length they were, without the least ill accident befalling them, none suspecting them for other than they appeared, though the search after them was very strict, and a great reward offered for apprehending them.—As soon as they arrived at Dover, both threw off their borrowed shapes; Natura was again the fine gentleman, and his companion a very agreeable woman, who was so well satisfied with what she had done, and the behaviour of Natura towards her, that she had lost nothing of her good looks by the fatigue of her journey.

Here they waited some time for the arrival of his servant, who knew nothing what was become of his master, since he had made his escape from the exempt, till he was entirely out of the kingdom, but had, all this while, been kept in good heart by the baron, who still had told him he was safe and well, and that he should soon hear news of him to his satisfaction; this faithful domestic, whom they had no pretensions to detain, now came with all his baggage, and Natura returned to London, in an equipage, not at all inferior to that in which he had left it.

The first thing he did was to place the exempt's wife in a handsome lodging, and then went to wait upon his father, who had been much alarmed at not having received any letter from him for a much longer time than he had been accustomed to be silent. The old gentleman was rejoiced to see him, after an absence of near six years, but sorry for the occasion, as his affairs were greatly perplexed, on account of the law-suits before mentioned, which being most of them in chancery, were like to be spun out to a tedious length; but Natura soon informed him that he was in a condition, which at present did not stand in need of any assistance from him, and that he was determined to enter into some business for his future support.

But in the midst of these determinations, the remembrance of his unhappy contract with Harriot came into his mind; he thought he had reason to fear some interruption in his designs from the malice and wickedness of that woman: but being loth to renew the memory of his former follies, he forbore making any mention of it to his father, till that tender parent, not doubting but it would be a great satisfaction to him, to know himself entirely freed from all claims of the nature she had pretended to have on him, acquainted him, that after he was sent away, the first step he had taken, was to get the contract out of her hands.

The transported Natura no sooner heard he had done so, than he cried out, 'By what means, dear sir, was she prevailed upon to relinquish a title, by which she certainly hoped to make one day a very great advantage?'

'Indeed,' said the father, 'I know not whether all the efforts I made for that purpose, would have been effectual, if fortune had not seconded my design:—she withstood all the temptations I laid in her way, rejected the sum I offered, and only laughed at the menaces I made, when I found she was not to be won by gentle means; and I began to despair of success, so much as to give over all attempts that way, when I was told she was in custody of an officer of the compter, on account of some debts she had contracted:—on this your uncle put it into my head to charge her with several actions in fictitious names; so that being incapable of procuring bail, and going to be carried to prison, when I sent a person to her with an offer to discharge her from all her present incumbrances, on condition she gave up the contract, which I assured her, at the same time, she would not be the better for, it being my intention you should settle abroad for life.'

'This,' continued he, 'in the exigence she then was, she thought it best to accept of, and I got clear of the matter, with much less expence than I had expected; her real debts not amounting to above half what I had once proposed to give her.'

Natura was charmed to find himself delivered from all the scandal, and other vexations, with which he might otherwise have been persecuted his whole life long, both by herself and the emissaries she had always at hand, might have employed against him: nor was he much less delighted to hear that she had also received some part of the punishment her crimes deserved, in the disappointment of all her impudent and high-raised expectations.

Having nothing now to disturb him in the prosecution of his purpose, he set about it with the utmost diligence; and as he had a considerable quantity of ready money by him to offer either by way of praemium, or purchase, there was not, indeed, any great danger of his continuing long without employment, nor that, so qualified, he might not also be able to chuse out of many, one which should be most agreeable to his inclinations.

Accordingly he in a little time hearing of a genteel post under the government that was to be disposed on, he laid out part of his money in the purchase of it, and with the remainder set up the exempt's wife in a milliner's shop, in which, being a woman of a gay polite behaviour, she soon acquired great business, especially as she pretended to have left France on the score of religion, and went constantly every day to prayers, after having formally renounced the errors of the church of Rome: Natura visited her very often out of gratitude, and perhaps some sparks of a more warm passion; and they had many happy hours together, which the talk of their past adventures contributed to heighten, as afflictions once overcome, serve to enhance present happiness.

Several matches were now proposed to Natura, but he rejected them all; whether it were that he had not seen the face capable of fixing his heart, or whether he was willing to wait the determination of his father's affairs, in order to marry to greater advantage, it is hard to say; tho' probably the latter was the true reason; for ambition now began to display itself in his bosom, and by much got the better of those fond emotions which a few years past had engrossed him: he now began to think that grandeur had charms beyond beauty, though far from being insensible of that too, he was not without other amours than that he still continued with the French woman: the raising his fortune was, however, his principal view, and for that purpose he neglected nothing tending to promote it; he made his court to those of the great men, who he knew could be serviceable to him with so much success, that he had many promises of their interest for a better post, as soon as opportunity presented.

Fortune for a while seemed inclined to favour him in a lavish manner; his mother-in-law died, and with her many of the vexatious suits dropped, and others were compromised at an easy rate, so that his father was soon in a condition to make a settlement upon him sufficient to qualify him for a seat in parliament, which, on the first vacancy, thro' favour, he got into, though at that time the house was not crowded with placemen, as it since has been: in fine, he was beloved and caressed by persons of the highest rank, and every one looked upon him as a man who, in time, would make a very considerable figure in the world.

His friends remonstrating that as he was twenty-nine, it was time for him to think of marriage, and a proposal being made on that account with a young lady, of an ancient and honourable family, who, besides a large fortune in her own hands, had the reputation of every other requisite to render that state agreeable, he hesitated not to embrace it:—he made his addresses to her, she accepted of them, and in as short a time as could be expected, consented to give him her hand;—the kindred on both sides were very well pleased, and tho' her family had some advantages in point of birth over his, yet as he seemed in a fair way of doing honour to it, there was not the least objection made; but articles were drawn, and a day appointed for the wedding.

But how little dependance is to be placed on fortune! how precarious are the smiles of that uncertain goddess, when most secure of her promised favours, and just upon the point, as we imagine, of receiving all we have to wish from her, she often snatches away the expected good, and showers upon us the worst of mischiefs treasured in her store-house!—Some few days before that which was to crown his hopes, he happened in company to be discoursing of his travels, and mentioning some things he had seen in France, a gentleman who imagined he spoke too favourably of the chevalier St. George, and pretended he had also been there, took upon him to contradict almost all he said concerning that place and person: Natura knowing himself in the right, and being a little heated with wine, maintained the truth of what he alledged, with more impetuosity than policy perhaps would have suffered him to have done at another time; and the other no less warmly opposing, passion grew high on both sides;—the lie was given and returned;—each was no less quick with his sword than his repartee, several passes were made, but the company parted them: and though they stayed together, neither of them was reconciled, nor in good humour for what was past.

In going home Natura and one gentleman kept together, as their way happened to be the same, when, see the wild effects of party-rage! all on a sudden, the person who had been his antagonist, and, it seems, had followed, came up to them, with his sword drawn, and told Natura he was a scoundrel, and a fool, for what he had said; his words, and the sight of his weapon, made him put himself immediately in a posture of defence, which indeed he had need of; for had he been less nimble, he had received the sword of the other in his body, before the gentleman who was with him could do any thing to separate them; nor were his efforts for that purpose sufficient to prevent them from engaging with a vehemence, which permitted neither of making use of much skill: it was however the chance of Natura to give his adversary a wound, which made him fall, as he imagined, dead; on which the disinterested person made the best of his way, as being afraid of being taken up by the watch, who were then just coming by:—Natura did the same, and thinking it improper to go home, went to the house of a friend, in whom he could confide, and who, on enquiry the next day, brought him an account, that the person with whom he had fought was dead, but had lived long enough to acquaint those who took him up, by whom he had received his hurt; and that warrants were already out for apprehending the murderer, as he was now called.

What now was to be done! Natura found himself under the necessity of going directly out of the way, and by that means endanger the loss of his employment, and also of his intended bride; or by staying expose himself to a shameful trial at the Old Bailey, which, he had reason to fear, would not end in his favour, the deceased having many friends and relations at the bar; and the very person who had been witness of their combat, somewhat a-kin to him:—it was therefore his own inclination, as well as the advice of his friends, that prevailed on him to make his escape into some foreign part, while they were looking for him at home; which he accordingly did that same hour, taking post for Harwich, where, through the goodness of his horse, he arrived that night, and immediately embarked in a fishing-smack, which carried him into Holland.

He had leisure now to reflect on his late adventure, which afforded the most melancholly retrospect; the happy situation he had been in, and the almost assured hopes of being continued in for life, made his present one appear yet worse, than in reality it was: he now looked on himself as doomed to be a vagrant all his days, driven from his native country for ever, and the society of all his friends, and torn beyond even a possibility of recovering, from a lady, to whom he was so near being united for ever, whom he loved, and whose fortune and kindred had given him just expectation of advancement in the world.

These gloomy thoughts took him wholly up for some days, but he was not yet arrived at those years, in which misfortunes sink too deeply on the soul; these vexatious accidents by degrees lost much of their ferocity, and he began to consider how much beneath a man of courage it was to give way to despair at any event whatever, and that he ought to look forward, and endeavour to retrieve, not lament, the mischief that was past. He wrote to his father an exact account of every thing, and intreated his advice: he sent also a letter to the young lady, full of the most tender expressions, and pressures for the continuance of her affection; though this latter was more for the sake of form than any hope he had of being granted what he asked, or as he was circumstanced, any benefit he could have received from it, if obtained.

The answer his father sent, gave him both pain and pleasure; it informed him, that the wounds he had given the person with whom he fought, were not mortal; that it was only the vast effusion of blood which had thrown him into a fainting, which occasioned the report of his death, and that he was now in a fair way of recovery; so that he, Natura, might return as soon as he pleased, there being no danger on account of the rencounter; but that the occasion of that quarrel being a party-affair, and represented in its worst colours by some private enemies, it had reached the ears of the ministry, who, looking on him as a disaffected person, had already disposed of his employment; he also informed him, that he must not flatter himself with being able ever hereafter to be thought qualified to hold any place or office under the government:—he also added, that the friends of his intended bride were so incensed against him, that they protested, they would sooner see her in her coffin, than in the arms of a man who had incurred the odious appellation of a Jacobite; and that she herself expressed her detestation of the principles he was now accused of, with no less virulence and contempt;—had torn the letter he had sent to her in a thousand pieces; and to shew how much she was in earnest, had accepted the addresses of a gentleman, who had been long his rival, and to whom it was expected she would soon be married.

If Natura rejoiced to find himself cleared of having been the death of a fellow-creature, he was equally mortified at having rendered himself obnoxious to those who alone were capable of gratifying his ambition: as for the change in the lady's sentiments concerning him, he was under much less concern; he thought the affection she professed for him must have been very small, when a difference of opinion in state-affairs, and that too but supposed, could all at once erace it, and rather despised, than lamented, the bigotry of party-zeal, which had occasioned it:—his good sense made him know, that to deny all the good qualities of a person, meerly because those good qualities were not ornamented with the favours of fortune, was both unjust and mean; and the proof she gave of her weakness and ungenerosity in this point, intirely destroyed all the passion he once had for her, and consequently all regret for the loss of her.

He could not, however, think of returning to England yet a while; his father's letter had given some hints, as if there was a design on foot, and he was confirmed soon after of the truth of it, for expelling him the house; and he thought it was best to spare his enemies that labour, and quit it of his own accord: and in this he found himself intirely right, when on writing to some persons of condition, with whom he had been most intimate, he found by their answers, that it was now known he had been in the French service, which both himself and his father had kept a secret, even from their nearest kindred; not there was any thing in it which could be construed into a crime, as the nations were then in alliance, but because as he could not possibly enjoy a commission there, without conforming to the ceremonies of the Romish church, it must infallibly be a hindrance to his advancement in a Protestant country. It is certain, Natura was of a temper to make good the proverb, That when one is at Rome, one must do as they do at Rome:—and though he had gone to hear mass, because it was his interest, and the necessity of his affairs obliging him in a manner to seek his bread at that time, yet was he far from approving the superstitions of that church; all that he could write, however, or his friends urge for him on this head, was ineffectual; he passed for a papist and jacobite with every body: pursuant therefore to his resolution of continuing abroad, till these discourses should be a little worn out, he wrote again to his father, and settled his affairs so as to receive remittances of money, at the several places to which he intended to go.



CHAP. IV.

The power of fear over a mind, weak either by nature, or infirmities of body: The danger of its leading to despair, is shewn by the condition Natura was reduced to by the importunities of priests of different perswasions. This chapter also demonstrates, the little power people have of judging what is really best for them, and that what has the appearance of the severest disappointment, is frequently the greatest good.

As to lose the memory of his disgrace, or at least all those gloomy reflections it had occasioned, was the chief motive which had made Natura resolve to travel a second time, it was a matter of indifference to him which way he went. He first took care to make himself master of all that was worth observation in Holland, where he found little to admire, except the Stadthouse, and the magnificence with which king William, after his accession to the crown of these kingdoms, had ornamented his palace at Loo; but the rough, unpolite behaviour of the people, disgusted him so much, that he stayed no longer among them than was necessary to see what the place afforded, and then passed on to Brussels, Antwerp, and, in fine, left no great city, either in Dutch or French Flanders unvisited; thence went into Germany, where his first route was to Hanover, having, it seems, a curiosity of seeing a prince, whose brows were one day to be incircled with the crown of England; but this country was, at that time, in so low and wretched a condition, that whether he looked on the buildings, the lands, or the appearance of the inhabitants, all equally presented a scene of poverty to his eyes; he therefore made what haste he could out of it, having found nothing, except the Elector himself, that gave him the least satisfaction. He was also at several other petty courts, all which served to inspire in him not the most favourable idea of Germany.

At length he arrived at Vienna, a city pompous enough to those who had never seen Rome and Paris; but however it may yield to them in elegance of buildings, gardening, and other delicacies of life, it was yet more inferior in the manners of the people;—he perceived among the persons of quality, an affectation of grandeur, a state without greatness, and in the lower rank of gentry, a certain stiffness, even to the meanest, and an insufferable pride, which came pretty near ferocity:—the costly, but ill-contrived parades frequently made, discovered less their riches than their bad taste, and appeared the more ridiculous to Natura, as they were extolled for their magnificence and elegance; but, even here, as indeed all over Germany, the courts of Berlin and Dresden excepted, you see rather an aim of attracting admiration and respect, than the power of it. These, however, were the sentiments of Natura, others perhaps may judge differently.

But whatever may be the deficiencies of Germany in matters of genius, wit, judgment, and manners, there is none in good eating, and good wine; and though their fashion of cookery is not altogether so polite, nor so agreeable to the palates of others as their own, yet it must be confessed, that in their way, they are very great epicures; but though they generally eat voraciously, they drink yet more; and so nimbly do they send the glass about, that a stranger finds it no small difficulty to maintain his sobriety among them.

Natura's too great compliance with their intreaties in this point, had like to have proved fatal to him:—the strength of the wines, and drinking them in a much larger quantity than he had been accustomed to, so inflamed his blood, that he soon fell into a violent fever, which for some days gave those that attended him, little hopes of his recovery; but by the skill of his physician, joined to his youth, and the goodness of his constitution, the force of the distemper at last abated, yet could not be so intirely eradicated, as not to leave a certain pressure and debility upon the nerves, by some called a fever on the spirits, which seemed to threaten either an atrophy or consumption; his complexion grew pale and livid, and his strength and flesh visibly wasted; and what was yet worse, the vigour of his mind decayed, in proportion with that of his external frame, insomuch that, falling into a deep melancholy, he considered himself as on the brink of the grave, and expected nothing but dissolution every hour.

While he continued in this languishing condition, he was frequently visited by the priests, who in some parts of Germany, particularly at Vienna, are infinitely more inveterate against Protestantism than at Paris, or even at Rome, though the papal seat; as indeed any one may judge, who has heard of the many and cruel persecutions practised upon the poor Protestants by the emperors, in spite of the repeated obligations they have had to those powers who profess the doctrines of Calvin and Luther; but gratitude is no part of the characteristic of a German.

These venerable distracters of the human mind, were perpetually ringing hell and damnation in his ears, in case he abjured not, before his death, the errors in which he had been educated, and continued in so many years, and by acts of penance and devotion, reconcile himself to the mother church; they pleaded the antiquity of their faith, brought all the fathers they could muster up, to prove that alone was truly orthodox, and that all dissenting from it was a sin not to be forgiven.

On the other hand, the English ambassador's chaplain, who knew well enough what they were about, omitted nothing that might confirm him in the principles of the reformation, and convince him that the church of England, as by law established, had departed only from the errors which had crept into the primitive church, not from the church itself, and that all the superstitious doctrines now preached up by the Romish priests, were only so many impositions of their own, calculated to inrich themselves, and keep weak minds in awe.

Natura, who had till now contented himself with understanding moral duties, and had never examined into matters of controversy between the two religions, now found both had so much to say in defence of their different modes of worship, that he became very much divided in his sentiments; and each remonstrating to him by turns, the danger of dying in a wrong belief, wrought so far upon the present weakness of his intellects, as to bring him into a fluctation of ideas, which might, in time, either have driven him into despair, or made him question the very fundamentals of a religion, the merits of which its professors seemed to place so much in things of meer form and ceremony.

By this may be seen how greatly christianity suffers by the unhappy divisions among the professors of it:—much it is to be wished, though little to be hoped, that both sides would be prevailed upon to recede a little from their present stiffness in opinion, or be at least less virulent in maintaining it; since each, by endeavouring to expose and confute what they look upon as an absurdity in the other, join in contributing to render the truth of the whole suspected, and not only give a handle to the avowed enemies, of depreciating and ridiculing all the sacred mysteries of religion, but also stagger the faith of a great many well-meaning people, and afford but a too plausible pretence for that sceptism which goes by the name of free-thinking, and is of late so much the fashion.

In another situation, perhaps, Natura would have been little affected with any thing could have been said on this score; but health and sickness make a wide difference in our way of thinking:—when surrounded by the gay pleasures of life, and in the full vigour and capacity of enjoying them, we either do not reflect at all, or but cursorily on the evil day; but when cold imbecility steals upon us, either through age or accidents, and death and eternity stare us in the face, we have quite other sentiments, other wishes:—whoever firmly believes, that in leaving this life, we but step into another, either of happiness or misery, and that which ever it proves, will be without end, or possibility of change, and that the whole of future welfare depends on the road we take in going out of this world, will be very fearful lest he should chuse the wrong; and it is not therefore strange, that while, with equal force, the papist pulled one way, and the protestant another, the poor penitent should be involved in the most terrible uncertainty.

Happy, therefore, was it, both for the recovery of his mind and body, that his physicians finding all their recipes had little effect, advised him to seek relief from the waters of the Spa, and as it was their opinion, they would be of more efficacy, when drank upon the spot, he accordingly took his journey thither, but by reason of his weakness, was obliged to be carried the whole way in a litter.

It is very probable, that being eased of the perplexities the incessant admonitions of the priests of different opinions had given him, contributed as much as the waters to his amendment; but to which ever of these causes it may be imputed, it is certain that he every day became better, and as his strength of body returned, so did that of his mind, in proportion; with his apprehensions of death, his disquiets about matters of religion subsided also, and whenever any thing of that kind came cross his thoughts, it was but by starts, and was soon dissipated with other ideas, which many objects at this place presented him with.

But that to which he was chiefly indebted for the recovery of his former gaiety of temper, was meeting with an English family, with whom he had been extremely intimate; the lady had come thither for the same purpose he had done, her husband being very tender of her, would needs accompany her, and they brought with them their only daughter, a young lady of great beauty, and not above eighteen, in hopes, as they said, of alleviating a certain melancholly, to which she was addicted, without any cause, at least any that was visible, for it.

Natura had often seen the amiable Maria (for so she was called) but had never felt for her any of those pleasing, and equally painful, emotions, which a nearer conversation with her now inspired him with:—he had always thought her very handsome, but she now appeared perfectly adorable in his eyes:—the manner of her behaviour, that modest sweetness which appeared through her whole deportment, and seemed, as it were, a part of her soul, had for him irresistible charms; and as he very well knew the circumstances of her family, such as his friends could make no reasonable objections against, nor his own such as could be thought contemptible by those of her kindred, he attempted not to repel the satisfaction which he felt, in the hopes of being one day able to make an equal impression on her heart.

The very first use he made of his intire recovery from his late indisposition, was an endeavour to convince her how much her presence had contributed to it, and that the supremest wish his soul could form, was to enjoy it with her in the nearest, and most tender union, as long as life continued.—She received the declarations he made her of his passion with great reserve, and yet more coldness; and affected to take them only for the effects of a gallantry, which she told him was far from being agreeable to a person of her humour: but he imputing her behaviour only to an excess of that extreme modesty which accompanied all her words and actions, was so far from being rebuffed at it, that he acquainted her parents with his inclination, and, at the same time, intreated their permission for prosecuting his addresses to her.

Both of them heard his proposals with a joy which it was impossible for either, especially the mother of that lady, to conceal:—each cried out, almost at the same time, that the sentiments he expressed for their daughter, was an honour they hoped she had too much good sense not to accept with the utmost satisfaction, and added, that they would immediately lay their commands upon her, to receive him in the manner she ought to do.

As their families and fortunes were pretty equivalent, and Maria, besides her being an heiress, had beauty enough to expect to marry, even above her rank, Natura could not keep himself from being a little astonished at the extravagance of pleasure they testified at the offer he had made: parents generally take some time to consider, before they give their assent to a proposal of this sort; and as he knew they were very well acquainted with the occasion of his leaving England this second time, and were of a party the most opposite that could be to that he was suspected to have favoured, their extreme readiness to dispose of their only daughter, and with her their whole estate, to him seemed the more strange, as he had been, ever since he conceived a passion for Maria, in the most terrible apprehension of meeting with a different reception from them, meerly on the account of his supposed principles.

The transport, however, that so unexpected a condescension gave him, prevented him from examining too deeply what might be the motives that induced them to it, and he gave himself wholly up to love, gratitude, and the delightful thoughts of being in a short time possessed of all he at present wished, or imagined he ever should ask of Heaven.

But how were all these rapturous expectations dashed, when soon after going to visit Maria, he found her lovely eyes half drowned in tears, and her whole frame in the utmost disorder:—'What, madam,' cried he, with a voice which denoted both grief and surprize, 'can have happened, to give you any cause of the disquiet I see in you!'—'You,' replied she, snatching away her hand, which he had taken, 'you alone are the cause;—what encouragement did I ever give you,' continued she, 'that should make you imagine the offers you have made my parents would be agreeable to me?—Did I ever authorize you to ask a consent from them, which I was determined never to grant myself, and which, I will suffer a thousand deaths rather than ratify.'

The confusion Natura was in at these words was so great, that it prevented him from making any answer; but he looked on her in such a manner as made her ashamed of what she had said, and perhaps too of the passion that had so far transported her; and perceiving he still continued silent, 'I own myself obliged for the affection you express for me,' resumed she, with more mildness, 'though it is at present the greatest misfortune could have happened to me. Could I have thought you would have declared yourself in the manner you have done to my father and mother, I would have convinced you how impossible it would be for you to reap any advantage from it, and that by so doing you would only make me the most wretched creature in the world; but all is now too late, and I foresee the cruel consequence.'—Here her tears interrupted the passage of her words, and Natura having recollected himself, began to complain of the severity of his destiny, which compelled him to love with the most violent passion a person who could only return it with an equal degree of hate.—'Love,' replied she, with a deep sigh, 'is not in our power;—let me therefore conjure you, by all that which you pretend to have for me, to proceed no farther in this business, nor endeavour to prevail on my parents to force an inclination, which no obligations to them, services from you, or length of time can ever influence in your favour; for be assured, that if you do, you will only see the hand should be given you at the altar, employed in cutting my own throat, or plunging a dagger in my breast.'

With these words, and an air that had somewhat of wildness in it, she flung out of the room, leaving him in a consternation impossible to describe, almost to conceive; her mother came in immediately after, and judging by his countenance how her daughter had behaved, told him he must not regard the coyness of a young girl; that she doubted not but Maria would soon be convinced what was her true happiness; and that a little perseverance and assiduity on his side, and authority on theirs, would remove all the scruples, bashfulness alone had created in her: 'No, madam,' answered he, with some impatience, 'there is somewhat more than all this you have mentioned, against me;—there is a rooted detestation to me in the very soul of Maria, which as I cannot but despair of being ever able to remove, common reason bids me attempt no farther.'

The mother of Maria appeared very much perplexed, and said a great deal to perswade him that his apprehensions were without foundation; but the young lady had expressed herself in terms too strong for him not to be perfectly assured she was in earnest; and being willing to ruminate a little on the affair, he took leave, though not without the other extorting a promise from him, of coming again the next day.

Natura had not given himself much time to reflect, before he conceived great part of the truth:—he could not think either his person or qualifications so contemptible, as to inspire a heart unprepossessed by some other object, with an aversion such as Maria had expressed: he therefore concluded, she had disposed of her affections before she knew of his: it also seemed plain to him that her parents were not ignorant of her attachment, and being such as they could not approve of, it was that which had rendered them both so ready to snatch at his proposal, without any mention of those considerations they would otherwise naturally have had of jointure, settlements, and all those things, previous to marriage, between persons of condition.

He was the more confirmed in this belief, when the father came to his lodgings the next morning; and without seeming to know any thing of what had passed between him, either with his wife, or Maria, asked, in a gay manner, how the latter had received his addresses? To which Natura answered in the same manner as he had done to her mother; adding only, that he could not avoid believing her heart was already engaged to some more worthy man, and was sorry his own unhappy passion had occasioned any interruption. The father left nothing unsaid that might dissipate such a conjecture, and affected to railly him on a jealousy which, he said, was common to lovers; and then told him a long story how himself had formerly suffered much by the same vain imagination. But all this was so far from making Natura doubt the truth of his conjectures, that, seeing through the artifice, he was the more convinced they were intirely right.

He went, notwithstanding, in the afternoon, either because he had promised to do so, or because he could not all at once resolve to banish himself from a person he took so much pleasure in beholding, though now without hopes of ever being able to obtain:—being left alone with Maria, both of them remained in a kind of sullen silence for some minutes, till at last the force of his passion in spite of himself made him utter some complaints on the cruelty of fortune, and his own insensibility, which had denied him the opportunity of discovering the thousand charms he now found in her, till too late to have his adoration of them acceptable to her. 'I have not less reason,' said she, 'to accuse the chance which at this time brought us together, than you can possibly have; since the love you profess for me, and which I once more assure you I can never return, has laid me under the severest displeasure of my parents';—'but I had hopes,' continued she, 'after the declaration I made you yesterday, that you would have renounced all pretensions to me, and had generosity enough in your nature, not to have taken the advantage of my father and mother's power over me, to force me into a compliance, which must be fatal to one or both of us.'

'No, madam,' answered he, much surprized, 'I am far from even a wish of becoming guilty of what you accuse me with;—dear as I prize your person, I would not attempt to purchase it at the expence of your peace of mind; nor could I be truly blessed in the enjoyment of the one, without the other;—it is only to Maria herself I would have been obliged, not to the authority of her parents.'

'Will you then quit me,' cried she hastily, 'and let the act appear wholly your own?'—'I will,' replied he, after a pause, 'difficult as it is to do so, and irresolute and inconstant as it will make me seem.' 'That,' said she, 'will be an action truly deserving my esteem; and in return, know I am much more your friend in refusing your addresses, than either my parents in encouraging, or your own mistaken wishes in offering them':—'but,' pursued she, 'I beg you will enquire no farther, but leave me, and break off with my parents in the best manner you can.'

Fain would he have obtained a farther explanation of words, which seemed to him to contain some mystery, as indeed they did; but she was no less inflexible to his intreaties on that score, than she had been to those of his love; and perceiving his presence gave her only pain, he went out of the house with an aking and agitated heart, but resolved to do as she desired and he had promised, whatever pangs it cost him.

He had not gone above an hundred paces on his way home, before he was accosted by a man who seemed like an upper-servant in a gentleman's family, and who, with a low bow, delivered him a letter, which, on seeing directed to himself, he hastily opened, and found contained these lines:

Sir,

"If you have any thing in you of the gallantry, generosity, or gratitude, for which your country is famed, come where the bearer will conduct you, to a woman, who has suffered much on your account, and can be extricated from an unhappy affair only by your advice."

Natura was little in a humour to pursue an adventure of the kind this seemed to be; but curiosity got the better of his spleen, and he bad the fellow lead the way, and he would follow; which he accordingly did, till they were out of the town, and from the sight of all the houses.

Being come into a field which was a kind of an inclosure, and a theatre proper enough for the tragedy intended to be acted on it, the fellow turned back, and drew a pistol, which he instantly discharged at the head of Natura, crying at the same time, 'Maria sends you this.'—Heaven so directed the bullets, that the one passed by his ear, and the other only grazed upon his shoulder, without doing any farther damage, than taking away a small piece of his sleeve. It is easy to judge of his surprize, yet was it not so great as to disable him from drawing his sword in order to revenge himself on the assassin; but the wretch, in case his fire-arms should miscarry, had provided a falchion concealed under his coat, with which, the same instant, he ran furiously on Natura, and had certainly cleft him down, tho' perhaps in doing so, he might have received his own death's wound at the same time from the sword of his antagonist; but both these events were happily prevented by the peculiar interposition of Divine Providence: some reapers, who had lain asleep under an adjacent hedge, being roused with the noise of the pistol, ran to the combatants, and with their hooks beat down both their weapons; while at the same fortunate crisis, two gentlemen attended by three servants, who happening to cross a road which had a full prospect over the field, had seen, at a distance, all that had passed, and came galloping up to the assistance of Natura, who was then beginning to interrogate the villain on the occasion of this attempt; but he refused to give any satisfactory answer to what he said, so was dragged by the countrymen, and others, who by this time were gathered together, back into the town, and carried immediately before a magistrate, who, on his obstinately refusing to make any confession, committed him to prison.

Natura, who imagined nothing more certain, than that Maria had set this fellow on to murder him, as the surest way to get rid of his addresses, went directly to the house where she lodged, full of a resentment equal to the detestable crime of which he thought her guilty;—he found her in the room with her father and mother, of whom he took little notice, but stepped forwards to the place where she was sitting; and seeing her a little surprized, which indeed was occasioned only by his sudden return, and the abrupt manner in which he entered:—'You find, madam,' said he, with a voice broke with rage, 'your plot has miscarried;—Natura still lives, though it must be owned your emissary did all could be expected to obey your commands, for my destruction.'

It is hard to say, whether Maria, or her parents, were in the greatest consternation at these words; but he soon unravelled the mystery, by relating the whole story, not omitting what the assassin said in presenting the pistol, and then as a confirmation throwed the letter he had received into Maria's lap, and at the same time shewed the passage one of the bullets had made through the sleeve of his coat:—the young lady no sooner cast her eyes upon the letter, than she gave a great shriek, and crying out, 'O Humphry, Humphry! every way my ruin!' immediately fell fainting on the floor; her father, without regarding the condition she was in, snatched up the paper, the hand-writing of which he presently recollected, as having, it seems, intercepted several wrote by the same person;—'Abandoned, infamous creature,' cried he;—'shame of thy sex and family,' added the mother, striking her breast in the utmost agony:—in fine, never was such a scene of distraction and despair!—Natura, injured as he had been, could not behold it without compassion;—he ran by turns to Maria, endeavouring to raise her,—then to her parents, beseeching them to moderate their passion,—then to her again:—'You are too generous,' said the father, 'let her die, happy had it been if she had perished in the cradle':—Just as he spoke these words she revived, and lifting up her eyes, 'O, I am no murd'ress,' cried she, 'guilty as I am, in this Heaven knows my innocence.'—'It is false, it is false,' said the father; 'but were it true, canst thou deny, thou most abandoned wretch, that thou wert also ignorant that the villain who wrote this letter had followed us to Spaw, and bring a second shame upon us?'—She answered to this only with her tears, which assuring him she had no defence to make on this article, his rage grew more inflamed; he loaded her with curses, and could not keep himself from spurning her with his feet, as she still lay groveling on the ground, and might perhaps have proceeded to greater violences, had not Natura, by main force, with-held him, while her mother, tho' little less incensed against her, dragged her in a manner out of the room, more dead than alive.

The unhappy object removed from his sight, the provoked father grew somewhat more calm, and turning to Natura, 'You see now, sir,' said he, 'how unworthy this wretched girl is of that affection with which you once honoured her; but how shall I obtain your pardon for what the too great tenderness for an only child has made me guilty of to you;—all I can say is, that I hoped she had been reclaimed, and so far from even a wish to repeat her crimes, that she had only an utter detestation for the villain that had seduced her.'

Natura knew very well how he ought to judge of this affair; but as he had an aversion to dissimulation, and was unwilling to add any thing to the affliction he was witness to, he said little in answer to the other's apology, but that he was extremely sorry for Maria, and the misfortunes she had brought on the family; and then took his leave as soon as decency would permit; but with a firm resolution to hold no farther conversation, wherever they should hereafter happen to meet, with persons who had all of them, in their several capacities, used him so ill.

The assassin was soon after brought to a public trial, where tortures making him confess the truth, he acknowledged, that having been a servant in the family, the beauty of Maria had inspired him with desires, unbefitting the disparity between them;—that emboldened by an extraordinary goodness she shewed to him, he had declared his passion, and met with all the returns he wished;—that she became pregnant by him, and had made a vow to keep herself single, till the death of her father should leave her at liberty to marry him; but that an unlucky accident having discovered their amour, he was turned out of the house, and the grief Maria conceived at it occasioned an abortion; but that after her recovery she contrived means to meet him privately, and to support him with money, that he might not be obliged to go to service any more; that she had acquainted him with their coming to the Spa, and not only knew of his following them in disguise to that place, but contrived a rendezvous where they saw each other often, and he learned from her the addresses of Natura, and the positive commands laid on her by her parents of marrying him, in order to retrieve her honour and reputation; that as besides the extreme love he had for her, his own interest obliged him to hinder the match, if by any means he could; and finding no other than the death of his rival, he had attempted it by the way already mentioned: but cleared Maria, however, of all guilt on this score, who, he assured the court, knew nothing of his intentions of murder.

The sentence passed on him was, to be hanged in chains, which was accordingly executed in a few days; though Natura, pitying his case, in consideration of the greatness of the temptation, laboured for a mitigation of his doom.—He never saw the unfortunate Maria afterwards, but heard she was in a condition little different from madness, which making her parents think it improper she should return to England, they conveyed her to Liege, where they placed her as a pensioner in the convent of English nuns, there to remain till time and reflection should make a change in her, fit to appear again in the world; which proceeding in them shewed, that whatever aversion some people have to this, or that form of religion, they can countenance, nay, pretend to approve it, when it happens to prove for their convenience to do so.

Natura was now intirely cured of his passion, but could not avoid feeling a very tender commiseration for her, who had been the unhappy object of it; he found also, on meditating on every passage of this adventure, that she was infinitely less to blame, in regard to him, than her parents had been; and that what he had accused, as cruel in her, was much more kind than the favour they had pretended for him.—When he reflected on the gulph of misery he had so narrowly escaped, he was filled with the most grateful sentiments to that Providence which had protected him; and also made sensible, that what we often pray for, as the greatest of blessings, would, if obtained, prove the severest curse:—a reflection highly necessary for all who desire any thing with too much ardency.



CHAP. V.

Shews that there is no one human advantage to which all others should be sacrificed:—the force of ambition, and the folly of suffering it to gain too great an ascendant over us;—public grandeur little capable of atoning for private discontent; among which jealousy, whether of love or honour, is the most tormenting.

The desire of being well settled in the world is both natural and laudable; but then great care ought to be taken to moderate this passion, in order to prevent it from engrossing the mind too much; for it is the nature of ambition, not only to stop at nothing that tends to its gratification, but also to be ever craving new acquisitions, ever unsatisfied with the former.—One favourite point is no sooner gained, than another appears in view, and is pursued with the same eagerness:—what we once thought the summum bonum of our happiness, seems nothing when we have attained to the possession of it, while that which is unaccomplished, fires us with impatience, and robs us of every enjoyment we might take in life.

Natura having now been absent two years, thought the idle rumours concerning him, as to his principles in party-matters, would be pretty much silenced, so began to think of returning to England; he was the more encouraged to do so, as he found by his letters, that those in the ministry, who had appeared with most virulence against him, had been removed themselves, and that a considerable change in public affairs had happened. Accordingly, he set forward with all the expedition he could, feeling not the least regret for leaving a country he had never liked, nor where he had ever enjoyed any real satisfaction, and had been so near being plunged into the worst of misfortunes, that of an unhappy marriage:—no ill accident intervening, he arrived in England, and proceeded directly to London, where he was received with an infinity of joy by his father and sister, who happened at that time to come to town with her spouse, in order to place a young son they had at Westminster school.

The better genius of Natura now took its turn, and prevailed over his ill one: the person whose turbulent zeal had occasioned his late misfortune, had since, being detected in some mal practice in other affairs, been cashiered from an office he held under the government, and was in the utmost disgrace himself: every body was now assured, that Natura had done no more than what became any man of spirit and honour; and those who before had condemned, now applauded his behaviour: in fine, every thing happened according to his wishes, and, to crown his happiness, he married about ten months after his arrival, a young beautiful lady, of his father's recommendation, and who had indeed all the qualifications that can render the conjugal state desirable.

The promotion of a member of parliament to the house of peers for that county in which their estate lay, happening soon after, he stood for the vacant seat, and easily obtained it:—nothing now seemed wanting to compleat his perfect happiness, yet so restless is the heart of man, that gaining much, it yet craves for more; Natura had always a great passion for the court, meerly because it was a court, and gave an air of dignity to all belonging to it; he longed to make one among the shining throng; he was continually solliciting it, with an anxiety which deprived him of any true enjoyment of the blessings of his life; nor could all the arguments his father used to convince him of the vanity of his desires, nor the soft society of a most endearing and accomplished wife, render him easy under the many disappointments he received in the prosecution of this favourite aim.

The death of his father soon after, however, filled his bosom with emotions which he had never felt before in any painful degree; he was for some time scarce able to support the thoughts of having lost so tender and affectionate a parent: but as nothing is so soon forgot as death, especially when alleviated by the enjoyment of a greater affluence of fortune, his grief wore off by pretty swift degrees, and he was beginning to renew his pursuits after preferment, with the same assiduity and ardency as ever, when his wife died in bringing into the world a son. This second subject of sorrow struck indeed much more to his heart than the former had done, as he now wanted that comforter he had found in her.—All the consolation he had was in that little pledge of their mutual affection she had left behind; and it was for the sake of that dear boy, at least he imagined it so, that his ambition of making a great figure in the world again, revived in him, if possible, with greater energy than ever.

As he was now in possession of a very fine estate, had an agreeable person, rendered yet more so by all the advantages of education and travel, and not quite six-and-thirty, when he became a widower, his year of mourning was scarce expired, before all his friends and acquaintance began to talk to him of another wife, and few days past without proposals of that nature being made; but either the memory of the former amiable partner of his bed, or the experience he had in his own family of the ill effects that second marriages sometimes produce, made him deaf, for a long time, to any discourses on that head, though urged by those who, in other matters, had the greatest ascendant over him.

Though he was far from being arrived at those years which render a man insensible of beauty, yet he was past those which had made him look on the enjoyment of it as the supremest bliss:—the fond desires that once engrossed him, had for some time given way to the more potent ardors of ambition;—he now made not love his business but amusement; the amours he had were only transient, and merely to fill the vacancy of an idle hour: his thoughts were so wholly taken up with advancing himself, and becoming a man of consequence in the world, that it may be reasonably supposed, by his behaviour, and the manner in which he rejected all the offers made to him, that had he met with a woman, in whom all the perfections of the sex were centered, she would not have been able either to engage him to a serious attachment, or to have quitted those more darling pursuits, which the desire of greatness fired him with.

Thus fortified by his present inclinations against all the charms of youth, of wit, of beauty, there was but one temptation he had not the power of withstanding, and that one his ill fate at length presented to him. A certain great person, who at that time was at the head of public affairs, had a neice, who for many private reasons, he found it necessary to dispose of in marriage: Natura was the man he happened to pitch upon, as one who seemed to him a very proper person, and accordingly made him the offer, accompanied with a promise of getting him into a great post, which he knew he had been for a long time, and was still, solliciting, though without any prospect of success, without his assistance.

The young lady was not ugly, yet far from being mistress of charms capable of captivating a heart which had been filled with so many images of different beauties; but, as I have already said, love was not now the reigning passion of Natura's soul, and had she been much less amiable, the dowery she was to bring, sufficiently compensated for all other deficiencies, according to his present way of judging.

He hesitated not a moment to accept the minister's proposal; and a long courtship, as things were ordered between them, being needless, he became again a husband, in a very few days, after the first mention had been made of it, and at the same time was put in possession of what was much more welcome to him than his bride, even tho' she had been endowed with every virtue, every grace.

All for a time went smoothly on:—he saw himself in a rank and precedence, his birth could never have expected:—his wife's uncle loaded him with favours; he procured a commission of lieutenant in the guards for his younger brother by his mother-in-law, whom, in spite of the ill usage, with which both himself and his father had been treated by her, he had a very great affection for;—he also got employments for several others of his kindred;—his house was the rendezvous of the gay and titled world;—his friendship was courted by all his acquaintance, and his interest at court created him so many dependants, that his levee was little inferior to that of the minister himself.

This full attainment of all he wished, and even more than he had ever dared to indulge the hope of, might well render him extremely contented;—he was indeed pleased to excess, but the gladness of his heart was so far a virtue in him, as it prevented him at first from shewing any tokens of that pride, which a sudden variation of fortune frequently excites.

It is certain, his behaviour was such as gained him an equal share of love and respect; and he had this addition to his other blessings, of not having his advancement envied; a thing pretty rare about a court, where there are so many gaping after every office that falls.

They say ambition is a lust that is never quenched; and that the enjoyment of much brings with it only an impatience for more; that fresh objects, and new acquisitions, still presenting themselves, the mind is ever restless, ever anxious in the endless pursuit.—It is very likely this maxim might indeed have been verified in the mind of Natura, after the hurry of transport for what he had already obtained had been a little worn off, and made way for other aims; but he had scarce given over congratulating himself on his success, before a strange alteration, and such as he had least dreaded of, happened in his humour, and rendered him wholly incapable of retaining the least relish for all the blessings he possessed, and in which he so lately placed the ultimate of his wishes.