Ah Lord, Ah Lord! Sister Angelica, pray come not in my Room, I am not visi­ble at present: must you needs surprize People thus in this condi­tion? I thought I had made the Door fast.

Well, well, hist, hist, why are you thus Alaram'd? a great hurt indeed, to have found [Page 2]thee changing thy Smock, or do­ing something better; Intimate Friends ought not in any wise to con­ceal themselves from one another. Sit thee down upon thy Bed in the same posture thou wast in: Ile go shut the Door.

I assure you my dear Sis­ter, that I should have dyed for shame, if any other than you had surprized me in this pickle; but I am certain you have a great deal of af­fection for me; wherefore I have no reason to fear any thing from you whatsoever you may have seen.

Thou hast reason my poor Chucky, to say what thou dost; and though I should not have for thee all the tenderness that a heart is capable of, nevertheless thy mind ought to be at rest as to that. I have been now a Nun these Seven years, and I came into the Cloy­ster at Thirteen: and I may say, that [...] not yet by my ill conduct, [...] any ones enmity; having [Page 3]always had detraction in abhor­rence, and doing nothing more to my hearts content, than when I render service to any of the So­ciety. This course of Life has pro­cur'd me the affection of the most part; much above all, has assur'd me of that of our Abbess, which is of no small use to me upon occa­sion.

I know it, and have been often amaz'd, how you could so manage those who are of a contra­ry Party: It is undoubtedly requi­site to be as well stock'd with wit and learning, as you are to manage such like Persons. For my part, I have never been able to Bridle my self in my affections, nor endeavour to engage those to be my Friends, who are naturally indifferent to me; It is the imperfection of my Geni­us which is an Enemy of Con­straint, and will in all things act freely.

The truth is, that it is very [Page 2] [...] [Page 3] [...] [Page 4]sweet and delightful to suffer owns self to be led and conducted by that pure and innocent Nature, in only following the inclinations it gives us. But Honour and Ambition which are come to disturb the re­pose of Cloysters, oblig'd those who are engag'd in e'm, to divide themselves, and to do often out of prudence, what they cannot do out of inclination.

That is to say, an infinite Number who think themselves Mis­tresses of your heart, do only pos­sess the painting of it, and that all your protestations assure 'em of­ten of a blessing which they do not really enjoy, I must own that I should very much suspect my being of that number, and that I am a Vic­time of your Policy.

Ah my Dear! Thou dost me an injury, dissimulation has no share in such strong friendship as ours! I am wholly thine, and though Nature had produced me [Page 5]from the same blood, it could not have given me sentiments more tender than these I feel. Allow me to Embrace thee, that our hearts may speak to one another in the midst of our Kisses.

Ah God! how thou grasp­est me in thy Arms, thou little thinkest I am naked in my Smock! Ah! thou hast set me all on a Fire.

Ah! how finely doth that Vermilion wherewith thou art at present animated, Augment the Lustre of thy Beauty? Ah! How Amiable does that Brightness ren­der thee which now sparkles in thy eyes? No, no, my pretty Rogue, I will impart to thee my most se­cret acquisitions, and give thee a perfect Idea of the Conduct of a Prudent Nun; I do not speak of that Austerity and Scrupulous wis­dom, which is only nourish'd by fastings, and only coverd with Hair Cloth; there is another Prudence less savage, which all understand­ing [Page 6]persons make profession of fol­lowing, and which has no small affinity to thy Amorous Nature.

I of an Amorous Nature, my Phisiognomy must certainly be very deceitful, or else you are not perfectly well acquainted with the Rules of that Science, there is no­thing which touches me less than this Passion, and for these three years that I have been a Nun, it has not given me the least distur­bance.

That I very much doubt, and am of Opinion, if thou wouldst speak with more sincerity, thou wouldst own that I have said no­thing but what is true. How a Maiden of Sixteen, of so quick a Wit, and so handsome a Body as thine, should be cold and insensi­ble: that I cannot perswade my self, all thy most careless actions have assur'd me of the contrary, And that I know not what, which I perceived through the Key-hole of [Page 7]the Door before I came into the Room, makes me know that thou art a dissembler.

Ah Lord! Ah Lord! I am undone!

Go thou silly Creature, what shouldst thou apprehend from me? prethee tell me, hast thou rea­son to be afraid of a friend? I told thee this with no other design than to make thee my confident in seve­ral such like cases of my own: tru­ly a fine business it is, but what the most scrupulous put in practise, and this is called in Cloistral terms, The Amuzement of the Young, and the Passion of the Old.

But pray what did you see then?

Thou weariest me with thy fooling: dost thou not know that Love banishes all fear, and that if we both mean to live in so perfect a correspondence as I desire we may, thou must hide nothing from me, and I must keep nothing [Page 8]secret from thee; Buss me my pret­ty heart; considering thy pervers­ness, a Discipline would be of good use to punish thee for the small re­turns thou makest to the kindness one shews thee. Good God, how soft and plump art thou! Ah! thou art of a sweet delicate shape? Let me—

Ah! For Heaven's sake let me alone! I cannot recollect my self from this surprize: but in good earnest, what did you see?

Dost thou not know thou little fool thou? what I might have seen? I saw thee in such a Posture and Action as if thou pleas'st I will serve thee in my self; where­in my hand shall at present do thee the Office which thy own a while ago did so charitably render to a­nother part of thy Body; A very great crime indeed that I have dis­cover'd, it is but what my Lady Abbess practices, as she her self says, in the most innocent diversions; It [Page 9]is but what the Prioress does not re­ject; but what the mistriss of the novices calls The Exstatical Intro­mission? Thou couldst not have be­lieved, that such Holy Souls could have been capable of employing themselves in such profane Exerci­ces? their mean and their outward behaviour have deceived thee, and that shew of Sanctity, with which they know so well how to deck themselves upon occasion, has made thee think they live in their Bodyes, as if they were composed of nothing but the Spirit. Ah my dear Child, I will instruct thee with a Number of things which thou art ignorant of, if thou would'st but have some confidence in me; and if thou lettest me but know the dis­position of mind and conscience thou art in at present: after which thou shalt be my Confessor, I will be thy Penitent; and I protest, that I will as freely unbosom to thee my heart, as if thou thy self feltest the purest motions of it.

After so many words, I do not think I ought to doubt of your sincerity, wherefore I will not only tell you what you desire to know of me, but I shall even take a sensible pleasure in communica­ting to you my most secret thoughts and actions. It will be a general Confession which I knew you have no design to prevail of, but the imparting whereof to you, shall only serve to unite us to one ano­ther, with a more strict and indis­soluble Bond.

It shall so, without doubt, My Dear, and thou wilt afterwards find, that there is nothing more de­lightful in this World, than to have a true Friend, who can be the de­positary of our Secrets, of our Thoughts, and of our very Afflicti­ons. Ah how Easing and Com­fortable are those disclosings of ones mind, in such like Occasions. Speak then: Prethee, My Dear, speak. I will sit down by thee upon thy [Page 11]Bed: 'Tis not necessary that thou dress thy self, the Season allows thee, to continue as thou art, Me­thinks! Thou art so much the more lovely, and the more thou aproach­est the Estate wherein Nature brought thee into the World, the more Charms and Beauty dost thou appear with. Hug me, My Dear Agnes, before thou beginnest, and confirm by thy kisses the mutual Protestations We have interchang­ed of loving one another Eternal­ly. Ah! how Pure and Innocent are these Kisses! Ah how full of Tenderness and Sweetness! Ah how they tickle me with Delight! Hold a little my Pretty Heart, I am all of a Flame, these Carresses have brought me into a Panting Condition; Ah God! How pow­erful is Love; and what will be­come of Me, if meer Kisses Ani­mate and Transport Me to such a Pitch?

It is indeed a very diffi­cult [Page 12]matter to contain ones Self within the bounds of ones Duty; when We in the least slacken the Reines to that Passion; Would you believe it Angelica? These little wantonings, which in the bottom are nothing, have had a wonder­ful effect upon me? Ah, Ah, Ah, let Me breath a little: Methinks my heart is too much pent up at present: Ah! these sighs give me ease. I begin to have for you a new Affection, and more Strong and Tender than before: I know not from whence this proceeds; for can meer Kisses cause so much disorder in a Soul? The truth is, you are very dextrous in your Car­resses, and all your wayes are ex­traordinary engaging; for you have so won upon me, that I am more yours than I am my own; Besides I am afraid, that in the Excess of the satisfaction which I have en­joyed; there may have been some such things as may give me occa­sion [Page 13]to reflect upon my conscience, which I should be very sorry for; for when I am to speak to my Confessour upon those sort of Mat­ters, I dye for shame, and know not where to begin. Ah Lord! How weak are We poor silly Crea­tures, & how vain are our efforts, for the surmounting the least Sallyes, and the least Attacks of a corrup­ted Nature.

This is what I watcht for, I know thou hast ever been some­thing scrupulous upon several Sub­jects, and that a certain tenderness of Conscience has given thee no small trouble. This it is to fall into the Hands of a Curs'd and Ig­norant Directour: For my part, I will tell thee that I have been taught by a Learned Man, with what air I am to comport my self, for the living happy all my life long; yet without doing any thing that might distast and scandalize the sight of a regular Society, or [Page 14]that was directly contrary to the Commands of God.

Oblige me Sister Angelica, by giving me a perfect Idea of that happy Conduct; believe that I am entirely disposed to hear you, and to suffer my self to be perswaded by your discourses, when I am not able to destroy them by such as are more stronger, and more pre­vailing. The promise I have given you of disclosing my self wholly to you, shall by these means be but the better observed, because that insensibly in my answers which shall partake in our enter­tainment, you will observe what Method has been taken with me, and upon what foot I am fetled, and you will judge by the sincere Confession I shall make to you of all things, of the good or ill course I shall Steer.

Dear Child, thou wilt be surpriz'd perhaps at the Lessons I am going to give thee, and thou [Page 15]wilt be amazed to hear a Maiden between Nineteen and Twenty years of Age, pretend to Dogmatize and Learning; and to see her Pry in­to the most hidden secrets of Re­ligious Policy. Do not my Dear, fancy that a Spirit of Vain Glory animates my Words; no, I know I was even less knowing than thou at thy age, and that all I have Learned, has succeeded to an ex­tream Ignorance. But I must like­wise own to thee, that I ought to be accus'd of stupidity, if the Cares and Pains several Great Men have taken to form me, and ren­der me perfect, had not been fol­lowed with any fruit: and if the Understanding they have given me of several Tongues, had not made me make some Progress by the Reading of good Books.

My dear Angelica, begin your Instructions I beseech you: I Languish under the impatience I am in of hearing your Reasonings: [Page 16]you never had a Schollar more at­tentive, than I shall be to all your Discourses.

As we are not born of a sex to make Laws, we ought to obey those we have found, and follow as known Truths, many things which of themselves do on­ly pass with others for Opinions. I pretend, my dear Child, to con­firm thee truly in the Sentiments thou hast, that there is one Just and Merciful, who de­mands our homages, and who with the same mouth he forbids us what is Evil, Commands us the practise of what is Good. But as all do not agree what ought to be called Good or Evil; and that an infinite number of actions for which we are made to have a horrour, are re­ceived and approved of by our Neighbours; I will tell thee in few words, what a Reverend Fa­ther Jesuite, who has a peculiar af­fection for me, told me at the time he [Page 17]endeavoured to open & enlighten my evil mind and understanding, and to render e'm capable of the present Speculations.

As all your happyness, my dear Angelica (so spoke he to me) de­pends on the perfect knowledg of the Religious Estate you have Em­braced, I am willing to give you a natural account thereof, and at the same time furnish you with the means of living, in your solitude, without any disquiet or trouble which proceed from such engage­ments. Now to go on methodi­cally in the Instructions I am to give you, you must remark, that Religion (I understand by that word, all the Monastical Orders) is composed of two Bodyes; where­of, the one is partly Celestial and Supernatural, and the other Ter­restrial and Corruptible, which is but an invention of Man; the one is Political, and the other Mysti­cal by Relation to Jesus Christ, [Page 18]who is the only head of the true Church. The one is permanent, be­cause it consists in the Word of God, which is Immutable and E­ternal; and the other is subject to an infinite number of changes, be­cause it depends on that of Man, which is finite and fallible. This being supposed, those two Bodyes are to be separated, and a just di­stinction of them is to be made, that we may know what we are obliged to. But it is no small dif­ficulty to solve them well, the Po­litical as the weakest part, has so uni­ted it self to the other, which is the strongest, that all is almost at present confounded, and the voice of man confused with that of God. From this disorder is it that do a­rise the illusions, scruples, wracks, torments and groanings of Consci­ence, which often bring a poor Soul into despair; and thence it is, that this yoak, which ought to be light and easie to bear, is become [Page 19]by the imposition of men, heavy, painful, and insupportable to ma­ny.

Amongst such thick Clouds of darkness, and so visible an altera­tion of all things, we must whol­ly and solely apply our selves to the Body of the Tree, without troubling our selves to embrace it's sprouts or it's branches. We must content our selves with O­beying the Precepts of the Sove­raign Legislator, and hold for Certain, that all the Works of Su­pererogation, to which the Voice of men would engage us, ought not to give us a moments disquiet. We must in Obeying that God who Commands us, consider if his Will is written with his own finger, if it proceeds from the mouth of His Son, or if it only departs from that of the People. So as Sister An­gelica, may without scruple, light­en her chains, embelish her solita­ry way of Life, and by giving a [Page 20]chearful Air to all her Actions, be­come tame, grow familiar, and be acquainted with the World: she may, continued he, dispence her self, as far as prudence will allow of, from the Execution and perfor­mance of all that hodge podge of vows and Promises, which she has indiscreetly made before men: and may again re-enter into the same Rights she stood possess'd of before her engagement, following only these first Obligations.

This is, pursued he, for what re­gards the inward Peace; Now as for the outward, you cannot with­out sinning against prudence, dis­pence your self from seemingly af­fording a Complyance to the Laws, Customes & Manners, which you sub­jected your self to, at your entrance into the Cloister. You must also seem zealous and fervent in the most painful Excrcises, if any inte­rest of Glory or of Honour de­pends on those Occupations. You [Page 21]may deck your Chamber with sack­cloth and hair Shirts, and by that devout furniture merit as much as she, who indiscreetly shall go lash and mortifie her Body.

Ah! how rejoyced am I to hear thee; the extream delight I took in thy discourse has hinde­red me from giving thee any inter­ruption, and that freedom of Con­science which thou beginnest to a­ford me, by thy discourse, unloads me almost of an infinite number of troubles wherewith I was torment­ed. But proceed I beseech thee, and tell me what was the design of Policy, in the establishment of so many Orders, whose Rules and Constitutions are so rigorous?

We may consider in the foundation of all Monasteries, two workmen who hath laboured there­in, namely the Founder and Policy. The Intention of the former has of­ten been Pure, Holy, and far from all the designs of the other. And [Page 22]without having any other prospect than the Salvation of Souls, he has proposed rules and ways of Living, which he thought necessary, or at least useful, to his Spiritual advance­ment, and to that of his Neighbour. By this means have Desarts been populated and Cloisters built; the Zeal of one Person alone enflamed several with the like, and their Prin­cipal Occupation being to sing con­tinually the Praises of the true God, they draw by those Pious exercises whole companies, who united them­selves to them, and made but one Body. I speak in this of what pas­sed in the Fervency of the first A­ges. Now as for the rest, we must take another Byass in our Reason­ings, and not imagine that this pri­mitive Innocence, and this fine Cha­racter of Devotion did long pre­serve it self, and that it has been derived to & inherited by those we see at present.

Policy, which can bear with nothing [Page 23]faulty in a State, seeing the en­crease of these reclused people, their disorder and extravagancy, was obliged to Provide against fur­ther mischief, thereupon banished several, retrenched the Constituti­ons of others, which she did not think necessary for the publick In­terest. It would willingly have got intirely rid of these Blood-suck­ers, who in an horrible Idleness and Laziness nourished themselves with the labour of the poor people. But this Buckler of Religion where­with they covered themselves, and the Spirit of the vulgar People, which they had already decoyed and in­fatuated, have made her to go a­nother way to work, that so such sorts of Companies or Societies might not be entirely useless to the Common-Wealth.

Thus Policy has looked upon all those Houses as Common places where it might discharge it self of these following superfluities: It [Page 24]makes use of them for the Ease of Families, which the great number of Children would render poor and indigent, if they had not places to re­tire to: And that their retreat might be without hopes of Return, it has invented Vows, by which it pre­tends to bind us and wed us indis­solvably to the state it has made us embrace: It makes us renounce likewise the Rights which nature has given us, and separates us so from the world, that we no longer make a part thereof. Thou conceivest all this well enough?

Yes I do: but from whence comes it, that this cursed Policy, which of free people renders us slaves, approves more of those rules which have nothing but what's Austere and Rigorous, than of those that are less severe and painful?

Why this is the Reason. It considers all Religious Orders, as Fryers, Nuns, and the Rest, as members retrenched from its Body, [Page 25]and as parts separated, whose life does not leane to it particularly for any thing beneficial, but much ra­ther damageable to the publick. And as it would be an action, that would appear inhumane, to take 'em away openly, it makes use of Stratagems, and under pretext of Devotion, it engages those poor Vic­tims (as it were) to cut their own throats, and to load themselves with so many fasts, penances and mortifications, that at length these In­nocents fall under 'em, & make way by their death for others, who are to be as miserable, if they have not more understanding. After this manner does a Father often become the Ex­ecutioner of his own children, and without thinking of it, Sacrifices them to Policies, when he meant to make them an Offering to God.

Ah the piteous effect of a detestable Government! Thou givest me life, my dearest Angelica, in withdrawing me by thy reasons [Page 26]from the High Road that I was following. Few Persons did prac­tice more than I did the most severe Mortifications; I have swing'd my self off with Discipline, Blows, and Lashes, often for to combat the in­nocent motions of Nature, which my Directour would needs per­swade me were horrible disorders. Ah! have I been so mistaken then? it is undoubtedly by the means of that cruel Maxime, That the miti­gated Orders are despised. Oh God, Do you thus suffer your name to be abused by unjust executions? and do you allow men to counterfeit you in this manner?

Ah my poor child, I per­ceive by these exclamations, that thou still wantest some light, to see clearly and universally into all things; let us pause there; thy mind is not at present capable of a more nice speculation. Love God and thy Neighbour, and believe that all the Law is contain'd in these two Com­mandments.

How, Angelica, would you leave me in an errour?

No, my pretty heart, thou shalt be fully instructed, and I will lend thee a Book which will per­fect thy Knowledg, and wherein thou wilt easily learn, what I should not be able to explain to thee, with­out being out of Countenance.

Thats sufficient; I must needs own I found this saying ve­ry pleasant. That the Cloisters are the Common shoars, where Policy dis­charges it self of it's superfluities; Methinks one could not speak after a more sordid and more humbling manner?

The Truth is, 'tis some­thing a bold expression; but it is not much more offensive, than that of another, who said, That the Fry­ers and Nuns were in the Church, what the Rats and Mice were in the Ark of Noah.

Right, and I admire the easyness wherewith you utter your [Page 28]thoughts, I find I would not for all I may have most Dear, but that the opportunity of my doors be­ing half open had given occasion to our discourse: yet I have com­prehended the sence of all your Words.

Well! thou wilt then make a good use of 'em; and that beautiful Body, which is not cul­pable of any Crime, shall it still be treated, as if it were the most in­famous Criminal upon the Earth?

No, I intend to give it sa­tisfaction for what I have alrea­dy made it suffer; I ask its par­don, and particularly for a severe Discipline, which I but yesterday in­flicted upon it by order of my Confessour.

Kiss me, my pretty Child, I am more moved with what thou tellest me, than if I had made the tryal upon my self; that punish­ment must be the last thou art to mortifie thy self with: But prethee [Page 29]didst thou hurt thy self much?

Alas! my zeal was indi­screet, and I fancied the more stroaks that I gave, the more did I merit; my plump Body, and my youth rendered me sensible to the least lashes; so as at the end of this fair exercise, my Backside was all of a Flame; nay, for ought I know I broke the flesh, and made a wound, for that I was wholly transported, when I outraged it so cruelly.

My pretty little Dear, prid­dee let me see and search it, Ile see what an ill managed fervency is capable of?

O Lord, Why must I suf­fer this? what you are then in earnest? I cannot endure it without confusion, Oh! Oh!

Hey day, to what pur­pose then was all my discourse, if thou art still withheld by a silly Bashfulness? What hurt is there in granting me my request.

Indeed indeed I am to blame, [Page 30]and your Curiosity is not to be found fault with; satisfy it accord­ing to thy desires.

So, so, this beautiful face that's alwayes vailed is now unco­vered; get thee on thy knees on thy Bed, and douk down thy head a little that I may see the violence of thy Blows. Ah good Lord how 'tis streaked! methinks I see Chyna Taf­fetas, or else the sky at Sun-Set­ing; you must needs be very de­vout at the Mystery of Flagellation, since you scourge your Buttocks at this rate?

Well now you have suffi­ciently contemplated this innocent Outrage? Ah Lord what makes you grope there! Ah let it alone that it may recover its former com­plexion, and get rid of that stran­ger of a colour. Pooh, what! do you kiss it?

Lye still, my pretty Rogue, be not refractory, I have the most Compassionate soul in the World; [Page 31]and as it is a work of mercy to comfort the afflicted, Tis my Opi­nion that I cannot afford them too many Caresses, for the worthily ac­quitting my self of that Duty. Ah! this part of thy Body is de­licately well made: and what a Lustre does it receive from its white­ness and plumpness; I perceive al­so another part, which is no less well endowed by Nature; Tis Nature it self.

Prethee take away thy hand from thence, if thou meanest not to cause there an inflamation which cannot easily be exstinguished? I I must needs own to thee my weak­ness, I am the most sensible Mai­den that ever was, and what would not cause in others the least Emo­tion, often puts me all in disor­der.

What then you are not of so cold a temper, as thou wouldest needs have perswaded me at the be­ginning of the conversation? and [Page 32]I fancy thou wilt play thy part, as well as any one I know, when I have put thee into the hands of true honest Fryers; for this reason I would wish that the time of the retreat, I am going to enter into according to custome, might be de­ferred, that so we might be toge­ther in the Parlour: But no mat­ter, I shall comfort my self with the account thou'lt give me of all that passes, namely, Whether the Abbot performs better than the Je­suite, or the Fryer than the Monk; and in short, if all the whole Priest­hood is able to give thee full satis­faction.

Ah I fancy I shall be ve­ry much at a loss in those sorts of entertainments, and that they will find me a mere Novice in point of Amours.

Trouble not your head, they know what course is to be ta­ken in such occasions, and a quar­ter of an hour with them will ren­der [Page 33]thee more knowing, than all the precepts thou mightest receive from me could do in a week. Come, cover your Back-side for fear thou should'st catch cold; stay let me kiss it once more, and again, and again.

Your are very wanton; do you think I would have born with these follies? no, but that I knew there was no hurt in all this.

If this was offending I should sin every moment, for the Schol­lars and Pensionaries, being com­mitted to my care, obliges me to visit their back apartments very often. But yesterday I whipt one rather for my own satisfaction, than for any fault she had committed; I took great delight in contempla­ting her, she is very pretty, and is already thirteen years of age.

I long for that employ­ment of Mistriss of the School, that I might take the like divertisement! I have a mighty fancy to it, and I [Page 34]should be overjoyed, might I see in what thou hast so attentively con­sidered in my Person.

I am not at all surprized at thy request, we are all made of the same Past. Hold I will put my self into thy posture; well now lift up my Pettecoats and my Smock as high as you can.

I have a great desire to take my Discipline, and so order the business, that these two twin Sisters may have nothing to re­proach me with.

Oh! Oh, Oh, Hold! What do you do; these sorts of sports do not please me, but when they are not vio­lent? Hold, hold, if thy Devotion should now happen to revive, I should be undone! Oh God! [...]hou hast a very flexible arm; I have a design to associate thee in my Office, but you must use a little more Mode­ration.

You have great reason indeed to complain, this is not the tenth part [Page 35]of the blows I have received; Ile defer the rest till another time, something must be allowed to thy little courage. Dost thou know that this part becomes so much the more beautiful; a certain flame which a­nimates it, Communicates to it a Vermilion more bright and pure, than all that of Spain. Get a little nearer the window that the light may discover all its beauties—So, now its well, I could never be weary with looking on't. I see all I desire, even its very neighbour­hood. Why dost cover that part with thy hand.

Alas, thou mayst look ont as well as the Rest; if there be a­ny hurt in this occupation, yet it is not prejudicial to any Body, and does not any wise disturb the pub­lick tranquility.

How can it disturb it, since we are no longer members of the publick? besides faults concealed are half pardoned.

Thou hast reason on thy side; for if as many faults were prac­tised in the World (to speak con­formably to our Rules,) as are com­mitted in Cloisters, Policy would be obliged to correct their abuses, and put a stop to all their disor­ders.

I also believe, that Fathers and Mothers would never suffer their Children to come into our Houses, if they but knew the Disorders that are committed there.

There's no doubt of that; but as most of the transgressions here are kept secret, and that Dis­simulation domineers more in Con­vents, than in any other place, all those who dwell in 'em do not per­ceive the faults and disorders, but serve themselves to engage others. Besides the particular interest of Fa­milies does often get the better o­ver many other Considerations.

The Confessours and Di­rectours of Cloisters have a peculi­ar [Page 37]talent to draw into their nets poor innocent Girls, who fall into a snare when they thought to have found a treasure.

True, and I have found it so in my own person. I had no inclination towards Religion, I dis­puted briskly against the reasons of those who perswaded me to it; and I should never have taken the vows, if a Jesuite, who at that time governed this Monastery, had not undertook the matter. A Families concern obliged my Mother, who bare me a tender affection, who had alwayes opposed my being a Nun, to give her consent to it; I resisted it a long time, because I did not foresee, that the Count de la Roche my eldest Brother, wh by right of Nobility, and the Cust­omes of the Country, would have for himself almost all the Estates and Riches of the Family, and that we being six of us left, without any other support, than what he pro­mised [Page 38]us, which according to his humour must have been but a ve­ry small matter: At length he re­signed a thousand pounds, as he told me, of those pretentions, to which were added four hundred more, so that I brought fourteen hundred Pounds in making my profession in this Convent: But to return to the Cunning of him that drew me in, thou mayst know the business was so ordered, that I met with him one afternoon, that I went to make a visit to one of my Couzens who was a Nun, and who long'd to see me in the habit of a Religi­ous.

Was it not Sister Victori­a?

Ay the very same. Thus being all three in the same Parlour, Victoria and I, began with the com­pliments and civilities usual in the First interviews; they were follow­ed with a discourse of this Loyalist, touching the vanities of the age, [Page 39]and the difficulty of working out our own Salvation in the World; which did very much dispose my mind to suffer it self to be seduced: These were nevertheless but slight pre­parations, he had many other sub­tilties to insinuate into my Bosom, and to make me espouse the senti­ments they lured me with: He told me sometimes, that he observed in my Physiognomy the true Character of a Religious Soul; that he had a particular gift in the distinguishing thereof; and that I could not with­out doing an injury to God (so he said) consecrate to the World so perfect a Beauty as mine.

He took the right course; but what answer didst thou make to all this?

I presently fell a combat­ing these first Reasons, by others which I opposed against him, which he destroyed with an admirable artifice. Besides, Victoria was aid­ing to the deluding me, and shew'd [Page 40]me religion in such coulours, as made it seem to have some Charms, and cunningly hid from me all that was capable of giving me any distaste: In short, the Jesuite, who as I had learnt had made more difficult con­quests, used his utmost efforts to make sure of mine. And was suc­cessful in his undertaking by the description he gave me of the World and of Religions, and constrained me by the force of his Eloquence, strictly to embrace his Party.

But prethee what said he that was capable of exercising so absolute a power over thy mind?

I cannot tell thee all the Circumstances for he held me three hours at the great; thou shalt on­ly know, that he proved to me by Reasons which I thought strong, That this was my Vocation where­in alone I could attain to my Sal­vation; That there was no safety for me, nor way except that, that the World was full of, Rocks and Pre­cipices; [Page 41]That the Excess of the Re­ligious was much better than the Moderation of the Worldly; That the repose and Contemplation of the former, was at the same time more delightful and more meritorious, than the action and all the Hurry of the latter; That it was in Clois­ters alone, that one could converse familiarly with God; and by con­sequence to render ones self wor­thy of so Holy and so Excellent a Communication, we were to flye the Company of men. That it was in these places that the remnant of the Ancient Christians were preserved, and where might be seen the true Image of the primitive Church.

It was hardly possible to speak with more Eloquence, and at the same time with more Cunning; for I observe that he said not to thee a word of the rigors and Austeri­tyes, that might startle thee and di­vert thee from following the bait.

Thou art mistaken; he for­got [Page 42]nothing. But the Pains and Mortifications he told me of, were seasoned with so much sweetness, that I found 'em not distasteful to my palate. I will hide nothing from you, said he to me; these devout Societies, whose number I hope you will shortly augment, labour day and night by their Austerities and Penances, to subdue the Pride and Insolence of Nature: They exercise over their Senses a violence which lasts alwayes; without dying their Soul is separated from their Body; and equally despising grief and Vo­luptuousness, they live as if they were only made of the Spirit alone. This is not all, pursued he, with a perswasive tone, they make a rigo­rous Sacrifice of their Liberty, they strip themselves of all their goods to enrich themselves only with hopes, and impose by solemn vows the necessity of a perpetual Vertue.

This Disciple of Loyala, was a Master Orator, I wish I knew Him.

Thou knowest him well e­nough, and I will tell thee some small circumstances of his Life, which will make thee believe, that he knows how to play more than one part; But I must First make an end of the rest. You see, Made­moiselle, the Chains, Rigours, and Mortifications I offer you; but would you believe it, said he to me, those Holy Souls whereof I spoke to you just now, are proud of this Yoak, they Glory in this Servitude, and there is no manner of Severe Torment to suffer, but what they esteem a great reward; they make all their Amours and Passion con­sist in the Service of Jesus Christ. It is he alone who puts 'em all in­to a Flame in case he does but touch e'm; It is he alone who is the on­ly Master of their Hearts, and who knows how to make their Tor­ments to be succeeded with incre­dible Joyes, Delights and Tran­sports.

Without doubt thou wast charm'd with this florrid Talker.

Yes, my pretty Child, I was perswaded by this Quack; His words changed me in a moment, they snatcht me from my self, and made me eagerly court what I had con­stantly avoided: I became the most scrupulous person in the World; and because he had told me, that out of the Cloister I could not work my Salvation, I imagined un­til I was got into it, that I had all the Devils about me. Since that time he himself has endea­voured to make me recover my Right Senses, he has given me such instructions, as were capable of freeing me out of the Errors he had plung'd me in, and it is to His Morals that I owe all the Repose and Quiet of mind that I now pos­sess.

Prethee tell me quickly who this man is.

Tis Father Raucourt.

Ah Lord! He is an En­chanter. I was once at Confession to him, I took him for the most Devout man in the World; the Truth is, he knows to perfection the Art of insinuating himself in­to peoples affections, and perswades what he desires. But I bear him a grudge, for having left me in the errour he found me in, and from whence he might have disingaged me.

Ah! He is too prudent to run such hazards! He saw thee un­der an extraordinary Bigottry, in horrible scruples, and knew that a Maiden is not so easily reduced from one extremity to the other. Be­sides if one Saint alone should en­lighten all the Blind, there would be no more Miracles for others to do; thou understandest me? that is to say, If thou had hadst Faith, thou wouldst have been Cured, and that if that wise Directour had found in thee some dispositions to follow his [Page 46]Ordinances, he would have been this Phisician.

I believe it; but I had as lieve have the Obligation thereof to thee as to him. Tell me I be­seech thee, some Circumstances of the Life of that Blessed Man?

I will so, My Pretty Heart, but Kiss me, and Embrace me very Amourously first: Ah! Ah! that's fine. Ah how am I charm'd with the Beauty of thy Mouth and Eyes! one of thy Kisses alone Transport me more than I am able to Ex­p ess!

Begin then? Ah thou art a mighty Lover of Kissing!

I am never weary of Ca­ressing what is Lovely. Since you knew Father Raucourt, it is not necessary that I tell thee, that he is the man of the World, the most intriguing, the most Dextrous and the most ingenious that can be found. I will only tell thee, that in point of Amity, he is nice to the highest [Page 47]Degree, and as he sets some va­lue upon himself, many qualities are requisite for to please him. Amongst all his Conquests he rec­koned none more Glorious, than that he had made of a young Nun of a Convent in this City, who is called Sister Virginia.

I have heard talk of her, as of a perfect Beauty, but I know no other Circumstances of the Mat­ter.

It is the Loveliest Person that can be seen, if the Picture her Gallant has shewed me of her be Faithful; as for Wit she abounds with it as much as she can desire, she is jocund and Facetious, Playes upon several Instruments, and Sings with Charms capable of bewitch­ing peoples Hearts. Our Jesuite had already acquired her intirely to himself for some Months, and they both enjoyed that sweet Tranqui­lity which makes all the Happiness of Lovers; when Jealousie began [Page 48]the disorder I am going to tell you of.

There was in the same Monas­tery a Nun, for whom the Father had shewed some kindness, and to whom he had made several Visits upon that design: He had also re­ceived from her such Favours, as were capable of engaging a man of the least Fidelity: But the Lustre of Virginia's Beauty, was too pre­vailing over his Heart; he inward­ly disengaged himself from that first commerce, and only afforded that poor Mayden, the outside and appearance of a Real Love. She quickly perceived the change, and and saw clearly she had a Rival, who shar'd with her in his offer­ings. She nevertheless dissembled her spight and vexation; and seeing she had to do with a Rival who surpassed her in all things, she did not entertain the design of attacking her, but vowed the Ruine of him who despised her.

To bring this Enterprize of hers [Page 49]the more easily about, she Studied the Houres and Moments that Vir­ginia met with this Religious Lo­ver; and as she had learnt by ex­perience, that he did not content himself with Words, nor light Fa­vors, she fancyed she might reasona­bly surprize them in certain Exerci­ses, the Knowledg whereof rendred her Mistriss of the fate of her faith­less Lover: She was a long while before she could discover any thing strong enough: She perceived in­deed two or three times that poor Father warming his hand in Vir­ginia's Bosome: She saw e'm In­terchange some Kisses with an in­credible fervency; but this passed for trifles in her mind; and as she knew that these sorts of Actions were in Cloysters only reckoned for Pocadilloes, which Holy Waters washes clean; she held her peace, waiting for a better Occasion to speak.

Ah I am in a terrible fright [Page 50]for poor Virginia!

Our Lovers not in the least suspecting the Ambushes that were laid for them, took no measures to avoid them: They met two or three times a Week, and wrote Letters when Prudence Obliged them to part for some time from one ano­ther. The Fathers Letters, whose expressions are tender and passio­nate made a perfect conquest over Virginia. He went to see her af­ter eight dayes absence, and ob­served he should obtain from her what she had alwayes refused him before. In the mean while her Rival was not Idle, for Correspond­ing with the Matron that was the Door-Keeper, she had notice of the Jesuites arrival, and not doubting but that after so long an interval, they would proceed to such priva­cies, as she could have wished for her self, she went Transported with a Jealousy into a Nook hard by the Parlour, where by the means of a [Page 51]little Chink she had made, she might discover to the very least motions of those who entertained one another there, and hear their most secret Conversations.

Now does my fear revive! Ah I have a spight against that Cu­rious Creature for disturbing so ma­liciously the Repose of two un­happy Lovers!

That the Depositions she designed to make of what she saw, might be the more Authentick, and received without difficulty, she took another Nun with her, who might give the same Evidence. Being thus, both posted in the place I mentioned, they perceived our two Lovers entertaining one another more by their looks and their sighs, than by Words; they grasped one anothers hands, and with languish­ing looks spake some tender words, which departed more from their Hearts than from their Mouth. This Amorous Contemplation followed [Page 52]with opening a little four square Casement, which was toward the midst of the grate, and which ser­ved for pretty big Packquets to pass through of such as made presents to the Nuns: Then it was that Vir­ginia, received and gave a thousand Kisses, but with such great Trans­ports, such surprizing saillies, that Love it self could not have aug­mented the ardour of them; Ah my dear Virginia, began my Passi­onate Priest, would you have us stop here? Alas! What small re­turns do you make to those who Love you, and how well do you practise the art of tormenting them? Alas! How, replyed our Vestal, can I make you any other pre­sent after having given you my Heart? Ah! How Tyrannical is your Love! I know what you de­sire, I know too that I have had the weakness to make you hope for it, but neither am I ignorant, that it is all my Blessing and all my Ri­ches, [Page 53]and that I cannot grant it you but by reducing my self to Extre­mity. Cannot we remain in the terms we are under, pass together soft delightful moments, and enjoy Pleasures so much the more per­fect, as they are Pue and Inno­cent? If your Happiness, as you say, does only depend on what I have most dear, you can be hap­py but once, and I alwayes mise­rable, since it is a thing that can­not be recovered. Believe me, let us Love as a Brother Loves a Sis­ter, and let us allow this Love all the freedom that can be imagined, with exception to one alone.

And what answer did the Jesuite make to all this?

During the Discourse he said not a Word, but leaning with his head on one of his hands, he look't with Eyes full of Languish­ment on her who spoke to him; after which, taking her by the hand through the grate, he told her after [Page 54]a touching manner! Must we then change our Method, and no longer Love as before? Can you consent to this Virginia, for my part I can retrench nothing of my Love, and the Rules you have newly pre­scribed to me, not to be received by a true Lover. He exaggerated to her afterward, with so much heat, the excess of his Flames, that he ab­solutely disconcerted her; and drew from her an Oral Promise, of grant­ing him within some few days, what alone would render him perfectly happy. He then made her come nearer to the grate, and having made her mount upon a pretty high stool, he conjured her to allow him, at least to satisfie his sight, since he was barred all other Liberty; she obeyed him after some resistance, and suffered him to see and grope the parts consecrated to Chastity, and Continency. She for her part would also needs satisfie her eyes with the like Curiosity, and the [Page 55] Jesuite who was not insensible, easily found the means for her so doing, she obtained from him what she desired with more easiness than she granted his request. Then was the fatal moments of 'em both, and what our Spyes desired: They con­templated with an extraordinary satisfaction, the fine parts of their Companions Body, which the Jesu­ite laid to view, and felt and gro­ped with transports of an enchan­ted Lover: Sometimes they Admi­red one part, and sometimes ano­ther, according as the Officious Fa­ther turned and changed the scitu­ation of his Mistriss; so that when he considered the fore part, he ex­posed her Breech to the light, be­cause her Petticoats all round were lifted & tuckt up above her middle.

Methinks I am present at this spectacle, so naturally dost thou tell the Story!

At length they terminated their wantonings, and our two Sis­ters [Page 56]retired with a design to put a stop to these ill managed Amours, and to hinder the effect of Virgi­nia's promise. By a particular hap­piness for that Poor innocent Crea­ture, the Nun, whom her Rival had associated to her in the Conside­ration of what had passed, had a very tender kindness for her, and endeavoured to find a byass for Ruining the Jesuite, without inju­ring her she loved; she gave her to understand what she knew of her interigues, assured her of doing nothing to her prejudice, provi­ded she would promise her to break intirely off with that Priest, and not have for the future the least Communication with him. Virginia extreamly ashamed at what she heard, engaged her self to all that was desired, only earnestly begs the Jesuites Reputation may be saved, because it was impossible to wound the one, without doing some damage to the other; she pro­tested [Page 57]she would see him no more, and that the Letter she was going to write to him never to return again, should be the Last he should re­ceive from her. These conditions were accepted by both, though with trouble; they embrace Virginia, of whom they were become Enamour­ed, and said at parting, that they would supply the Fathers place, and enter into a strict friendship with her.

She came off then at a pretty cheap Rate, I fancy she ow­ed this indulgence to her Beauty, and to her other qualities, which rendered her without doubt Ami­able to her very Enemy?

We are not yet at the end of our History. Virginia imediatly wrote a Letter to Father Raucourt, & there­in acquainted him with all that had happened, and with the Conditions she had bound her self to, to save both her and his Honour; she re­monstrated to him the danger he [Page 58]would expose himself to, if he came to see her again; and lett him al­so know, that it was impossible she could receive any of his Letters, un­less he made use of a particular trick, to avoid their being surprized; she ended with protestations of a con­stant Love and proof against all the most secret attacks of Jealousy, and made him hope, that time would dissipate that storm, which threat­ned them. I do not say with what surprize this Father received and read this Letter, which struck him, as it were, with a Thunder-Bolt, he saw it was not convenient to make any Answer to it, and that he must be forc'd to buckle to an an unhappy Accident, which op­posed his good Fortune, in the ve­ry moment he was ready to enjoy it.

Three Weeks was already pass'd of this Widdow-hood, when Vir­ginia growing weary of that soli­tary Life, found by a marvellous [Page 59]piece of cunning, the means of hearing from her Lover, and letting him hear from her: She preten­ded to have forgotten to send Fa­ther Raucourt a square Bonnet, which he had given her to make in the time of their late Familiari­ties. Her Rival told her, that she needed but to give it to her, and that she would have it delivered to her by a Touriere. This was done accordingly, the messenger had no­tice after what manner she was to speak to him; she acquitted her self punctually of her Commission, and the Jesuite after he had recei­ved the Bonnet, he desired her to wait a moment in the Church, that he might have time to think of what he saw. After some small reflection, he suspected the strata­gem, ript open the Bonnet in a certain place, and there found Vir­ginia's Letter: Without examining it much, he made a speedy answer to it, which he put in the same [Page 60]place, and clos'd it up the best he could, with two or three stitches of a needle: he came again to the Touriere, whom he desired to carry back the Bonnet, that it might be mended, because that it was much too narrow for him; that he had tryed it upon several other of the Convent, that he might exempt the Person from the trouble she might have in reforming it, but that there was not a Father it fit­ted; that for the rest he was obliged to her for the Patience she had had to wait so long. The good Sister made answer by her Bows to the Fathers Civilityes, and car­ryed back the four squar'd Bonnet to the Monastery, deliver'd it by order of her, who sent her into the hands of Virginia, who was over­joyed to hear there the news of him she loved, and for that her Artifice had had such good suc­cess.

It must be confessed that [Page 61]Love is full of Invention.

This Commerce lasted for above a Month, there was still som­thing to be altered and mended in this Venerable Bonnet; once in three days it was to be carryed to the Colledge and back again to the Monastery. Yet no body imagin'd that there was any My­stery in such a thing as that; no notice was taken of it; and they might still have made use of this Postilion, had it not been for this accident which spoiled all.

Oh Lord, I fancy the whole Plot was discovered by the Tou­riere.

No, thou art mistaken. It happened that on a fast day, that the Porter of the Jesuites was out of humour, perhaps for that he had not stuffed his Gutts, at his usual Rate: The Touriere who had an infinite number of Commissions, and amongst others that of the Bon­net, rang twice or thrice at the [Page 62] Colledg Gate, for to discharge her self as soon as possible of her Mes­sage. This good Fryer went out of the Garden he was in, and be­ing come almost out of Breath; thinking it was the Bishop or Arch-Bishop, or some other Grandee, who had rung after so Command­ing a manner, was much surpriz­ed at the sight of the poor Sister; she had nothing else to say to him, than to deliver the four square Bonnet into the hands of Father De Raucourt. This pettish man being vex'd at so many trouble­some visits, upon so small a mat­ter, fell into a Passion, and said; That Bonnet walked very often, and that he would put it into the hands of a man who should make it withdraw for a while. The Tou­riere excusing her self as well as she could, away she went, and the Rector waiting for a Companion in the Porters Lodge to go out to­gether, having heard the Dialogue, [Page 63]called the Brother, and would needs know the subject of the dispute, and why he treated so rudely the Persons who had business with those of the Colledg. This man, seeing himself school'd by his Superior, told him all he thought of this Bonnet; told him that it had already jogg'd & jaunted above 20. times between the Colledge and the Monastery: that there must without doubt be some hidden design in this matter; and that if His Reverence was so pleas­ed, he would search the Cap which he said was counter-band; which he did at that same instant, and with one touch with his Cissars he brought to light the Fifteenth In­fant of the square Bonnet, which came in a direct Line from Sister Vir­ginia.

Oh Lord! how difficult a matter it is to save ones self, when pursued by an ill Destiny, and that it has sworn ones ruine. What hap­pened of all this business?

It happened that the Father was confined into another province, and that poor Virginia has been mortifyed with some Penances; from hence came that Proverb, That there is a great deal of malice under a Jesuits four square Bonnet.

Good Lord! It was for her alone that I was in fear, but tell me how this came to the know­ledge of the Prioress?

I should be too tedious in entertaining thee with one and the same thing; In the first Conversa­tion after my retreat, I will tell thee more upon this Subject; I will shew thee two Infants of the four squar'd Bonnet, and will acquaint thee with the Fate of their Father and Mother. Think only at present, my Dearest, that I am going to spend eight or ten dayes after a very doleful manner, since I shall be barred having the least confe­rence with thee; I am going to write to my three honest Friends [Page 65]that they may Visit thee during that time: There is an Abbot, a Fryer, and a Capuchine.

What a mixture! and what wouldest thou have me do with all those people whom I know not?

Thou needest only be Obe­dient, they will teach thee suffici­ently what shall be thy Duty, for the satisfying and contenting them. Here, take this Book I lend thee, make a good use of it, it will instruct thee with many things, and will give thy mind all the quiet thou canst wish for. Kiss me my poor Child, Kiss me for all the time I am to be absent. I should pass my retreat after a very pleasant rate, If my Derectour was as Amiable and as Docible as thou art. Adieu. My heart, Dress thee, and be sure that thou keepest all our amorours mat­ters secret, and prepare thy self to give me an account of all thy Di­vertisements when my Exercises are expired.

Ah! God be Praised, I begin to breath again; never was I more pestered with De­votions, Mysteries and Indulgences, than since I left thee; I nauseate strangely all those Superstitions. How dost do? What not a Word? Why do you Laugh?

I am quite ashamed to appear before your eyes again; I [Page 68]fancy you know all, to the very least particulars, of what has been said, and done, since your absence.

And who shou'd tell it me? What you railly me? Come, come thy wayes into my Room, and think where you are to begin to give me a faithful Narrative. For my part I came out of the hands of a sa­vage Creature, who would have made a person of any other hu­mour than mine mad, I mean my Directour; It is the worst natur'd, and most ignorant man of his Cha­racter. I fancy he has made me gain all the Indulgences and Par­dons that were ever granted by the Popes, since Gregory the Great to Innocent the XI. If I had followed his Order, I had set my Body in Blood by the Discipline he prescri­bed me; not that I let him see much malice in the confessions I made him, but because he imagines, that to be in the way of Paradice, one must be as dry, as lean, and [Page 69]as fleshless as himself; and that it is sufficient to be something chear­ful and plump to merit all manner of Penances. Judge now, how I have spont my time, and if I had not reason to think it tedious?

For my part I must tell thee, that thou hast given me Di­rectours, who have tyred me little less than thine have done; I know not if I have gain'd Indulgences with 'em; but I am certain that to gain them, many Persons do not do so much as we have done.

That I do not doubt of. But tell me a litle News of our Abbot, and let me know if he is capable of any great matter.

Him it was, I first saw, and in whom I found the most heat; there is nothing more lively, and more animated, and there's ple­sure in hearing him discourse. I was at the afternoons Recreation, when word was brought me, that he ask'd to speak with me. As I knew the Lady [Page 70] Abbess was indisposed, I sent him word by the Porter, that he should go into the Great Parlour, and that he would not grow impatient. I made him wait for a large quar­ter of an hour, because I changed my Vail, and some other things, that I might appear the Neater before him, and endeavour to an­swer the hopes he had of seeing a Person, of whom he had heard so advantageous a Description. At the first I seem'd something mute and silent, answering very seriously to the civilities he paid me, but this did not discourage him; on the contrary he took an occasion to tell me very boldly, that he knew the Fair Ladies had the freedom to speak after a certain indifferent manner, which would be unbecom­ing in others; but that he had rea­son to hope, that presenting him­self under the Favour and Recom­mendation of my best Friend, his Visit could not but be grateful to me.

He passes for a Witt; and we may say that his great Tra­vels accompanyed with much ex­perience, have added to his natu­ral advantages all the perfection he had wanting.

I know not what thou hadst told him of me, but I found he made great Progress for a first Visit! He turned the Conversa­tion upon the Austerity of Religi­ous Houses, and endeavoured to per­swade me by an infinite number of Reasons, not to follow the in­discreet Zeal of several, terming all those ridiculous, who indifferently put in practice all sorts of Morti­fications. He made me laugh at the Natural account he gave me, of what hapned to him in Italy with a Nun of St. Bennet, of whose cun­ning he made use of to see her as often as he pleas'd, and how at length he received such favours from her, as were to be the effect of his Assiduities. He assured me that be­fore [Page 72]that acquaintance, he had al­wayes believed, it was only amongst the Nuns that the true Vestal Chastity was preserved, and that he had alwayes perswaded him­self, that those recluse Souls, lived in so perfect a Continency, as that of the Angels; but that he had found the contrary, and that nothing per­fect is meanly spoiled; and that a thing keeps in its Corruption, the same degree it had in its Goodness; he had observed there was nothing more dissolute than all the Reclused and Bigots, when they find occa­sion to divert themselves. He shew­ed me a certain Instrument of Glass, which he had received from her, whom I have spoke to thee of, and assured me, that he had learnt from her, there were above fifty of the same in the Monastery, and that all from the Abbess to the last Pro­fessour managed it oftner than their Beads.

That's fine! but thou tel­lest [Page 73]me nothing of what concerns thy self.

What wouldest thou have me tell thee? He is the most wan­ton man upon the face of the earth. At the second visit he made me, I could not dispence my self from granting him some favour; he op­posed all my reasons with Morals so strong, and so full of artifice, that he rendered all my Efforts useless and to no purpose: He shew­ed me three Letters from our Ab­bess, which assured me that let me do what I would, I should only walk in her steps. She has spent whole nights with him, and only terms him in her Letters the Ab­bot of Loves Paradice. I represen­ted to him, that the Grate was an insurmountable obstacle, and that he must of necessity con­tent himself with some slight wan­tonings, since it was impossible to proceed any farther. But he gave me sufficiently to understand, that he [Page 74]was much more knowing than I, and shewed me two Boards, that were to be lifted up, the one on his side and the other on mine, and which gave sufficient passage for a Person: He told me that it was by his advice, that the Lady Abbess had so ordered the business, that she had call'd it the Streight of Gilbraltar, and that she one day told him, that he must not ven­ture passing it without being well provided with all things necessary, particularly if he had any designe to stop at the Pillars of Hercules. Thus after several contests on both Sides, The Abbot pass'd the Streight, and arrived at the Port where he was received, but it was not without difficulty, and only after having as­sured me that his entrance should have no ill consequence; I allow­ed him to ancher as long as was necessary to render him happy; it was the seventh of the Month of August, which was a day that my [Page 75]Lady Abbess was used to be Employed in great Ceremonies, but that her indisposition had obliged to defer till the next Month following what she commonly observed in this. He told me that she had created the second year she was Abbess an Or­der of Knighthood, which was compos'd only of Priests, Monks, and Abbots, and Religious and E­clesiastical Persons. That those who were admitted into it, took an Oath to keep the secret of the Order, and call'd themselves the Knights of the Grate, or of St. Lau­rence; that the Coulour which was given them at the day of their Re­ception, was compos'd of the Cy­phers of my Lady Abbess, interwo­ven with Flames of Love, and that below hung a Medal of Gold, Re­presenting the Patron of the Order, lying all naked upon a Grate, in the midst of Flames, with these Words, Ardorem Craticula Fovet, That is to say, The Grate Augments [Page 76]my Heat. He shewed me the Col­lar he had received, and after he had made me some presents of cu­rious Books, we parted from one another until a new Interview.

Thou hast told me nothing now touching this Order establish­ed by my Lady Abbess; my Lord Bishop of ✚ ✚ ✚, is the First Knight of it, the Abbot de Beaumont the Second, the Abbot du Prat the Third, the Prior de Pompiere the Fourth; these are the Principals and the First in date; they are followed by Jesu­ites, by Jacobins, Augustins, Carme­lites, Fathers of the Oratory, and the Provincial of the Cordeli­ers. So as at the last Promotion, which was made in the year last past, the Number was Twenty-two. But it is observable, that there is a great deal of difference between them, and that they cannot all en­joy equal Priviledges; there are of them who call themselves the Blew Ribonds, and these are those [Page 77]who are the Almightyes, who have the secret of the Order, and who dispose of my Lady Abbesses affairs as my Lady Abbess manages theirs. As for the others their Power is li­mited, it has bounds which they cannot pass. And they have little more advantage than the Aspirers, until that by their Zeal, their Pru­dence and their Discretion, they have rendered themselves worthy of being of the Great Profession. Of all the Monks, the Capuchins alone are excluded, because the Beardwhich disguises them so much, has rendered them Odious to our Abbess, who sayes, that she cannot imagine that any Person of our Sex can bear any Good Will to those Satyres. But to the purpose tell me some tydings of Father Vital of Charenton.

I should never have believed no more than my Lady Abbess, that a Capuchin, could have been ca­pable of a Gallantry, if this man [Page 78]had not perswaded me of it by his Conduct. He came to see me three dayes after our Abbot, we went in­to the Parlour of St. Augustin, and there it was that he tickled my fan­cy with so many wanton discour­ces, that I could not have expect­ed more from a professed Courti­er. Besides, he spoke so boldly that I was asham'd to hear come out of the mouth of a man, words at first somthing Li­bertine, but at length the most dis­solute the greatest Debauchee could have made use of. I could not forbear making him sensible of my astonishment, and letting him know, that there was excess in his tran­sports; which made him use some moderation in the matter. He made me three visits during thy retreat, and at the last he obtained no great Favours from me, because the Parlour where we were had not the conveniencies of the others. I will only tell thee, that he prepa­red [Page 79]me sufficient matter to laugh at, in that having by his efforts loos­ned one of the Bars of the Iron in the Grate, and thinking he had made a passage sufficiently large, to pass through it, he ventured, not­withstanding my disswasions: But through he could not get, for as much as having passed his head, and one of his shoulders with a great deal of difficulty, his Cowle got hold of one of the spikes with­out, so notwithstanding all his strug­ling he could not get rid of that snare. I could not contemplate him in that posture, without bursting out a laughing, I made him get back again as soon as he could, and caus'd him to put the Grate so as it was before. He gave me three or four Books which he had mention'd to me in his first Visit, and withdrew very ill satisfied with his Adven­ture.

I am sorry for this disor­der, for without doubt this will have discourag'd him.

Discourag'd him! Good Lord! He's no man, take my word, to be discouraged; he is the most impudent and most dissolute of all men; I hope hee'l be here yet be­fore the Weeks at an end, he has promised me the Collection of the secret Amours of Robertd, Abrissel; he began to tell me the story, but I can't believe its true, it must needs be a piece of Invention.

Thou'rt mistaken, there is nothing more true; and several grave Authors write, that he was used to Lye with his Nuns that he might try 'em, and observe at the same time in his own Person, how far the strength of vertue can pre­vail, which combate the tempta­tions of the flesh; he thought this very meritorious in him, and this it was that gave occasion to God­frey of Vendome, to term this De­votion pleasant and ridiculous, in a Letter he wrote to St. Bernard, and calls this fervency a new kind of [Page 81]Martyrdome; This has hitherto been the occasion of that mans not being placed in the Calender of the Saints by the Court of Rome, he is nevertheless term'd Blessed.

We must own, that there are many abuses practised in our Re­ligion, and I am not now at all surprized, that so many Nations have separated themselves from our Church, to apply themselves litte­rally to the Scriptures. The Fa­ther Mendicant whom I saw du­ring thy retreat, made me Visi­bly remark all the faults of the pre­sent Government, as to what con­cerns Religion: he is a man who for his Age, (for he is not yet Six and Twenty Years Old) possesses all the Sciences that can render a person accomplished of what Cha­racter soever he may be; he speaks Universally upon all subjects, but with so easy an air that Savours nothing of the Pedant.

I perceive thou art pleas­ed [Page 82]with him, he is well made, and a lusty handsome Sawny, for my part I always call him my swinging Towzer; in what Parlour sawest thou him?

I saw him twice, he first was in the Parlour of St. Joseph, and the last was in that of my La­dy Abbess.

Well, well, that is to say, he pass'd the Streigths, he well de­served it, and there's delight in see­ing him play his part.

He gave me two small vi­alls of Essence, which have a won­derful Odour, he was perfumed from top to toe, and with so Animated a Vermilion, that I at first suspect­ed he had been at the little pot; but I found the contrary afterwards, and saw that the Red only pro­ceeded from the fervency of his Passion. I was infinitely pleased with his discourse, and his way of toying and wantoning, and I made no difficulty of granting him the [Page 83]passage I had so much disputed with our Abbot. I represented to him, that there was reason to fear, that the follies we two committed would be followed with a third: I un­derstand you, replyed he, and at the same time took a little Book out of his pocket which he gave me, the title of it was, Soft and ea­sy Remedies against dangerous swel­ling. He told me it would teach me what I had to do in such an occasi­on, he put a little Conserve into my mouth, which I found had no ill taste; I know not if it contain'd any secret Vertue, but immediate­ly he put himself into a posture of attacking the Pillars of Hercules.

That is to say, swinging Towzer won thy Heart.

Certain it is that he shar'd it with the Abbot; I cannot tell thee to whom I could give the prefer­rence: One thing alone displeased me in the Mendicant, which is, that having seen about his neck a [Page 84]Reliquary of Guilt Vermilion, which he wore upon his heart; I had the curiosity to open it, but I was very much surprized to find no­thing else, than a kind of a down, and hairs of different colours, di­vided into Figures and Flowers in several Branches, and very well done. He own'd to me that these were the Favours of all his Mistresses, and desired me to countenance like­wise his Devotion with the like, and that what I should bless him with a grant of should be put in the finest place of all! Well in short I complyed with his humour! I forgot to tell thee that there was in Characters of Gold, this inscrip­tion in the midst of a Christal which covered all this fine Mer­handizes, Relicks of the Holy Beard. Upon the outside of the Reliquary there was Engraven a Cupid, in a Throne, with this Noddy of a Fry­ar prostrate at his feet, with these Words which I have remembred, [Page 85]though they be Latin, Ave Lex, Jus, Amor. I blam'd him for this irreve­rence, which I termed Impiety, but he did but laugh at it, and said he could not refuse these Worships to those who merited all manner of a­dorations; and that if I knew but how to decypher seven other letters, which were on the other side, I should make many more Exclama­tions. And indeed having looked upon it again, I saw the seven fol­lowing Letters, A. C. D. E. D. L. G. But he would not unriddle the mat­ter to me, though I was very earn­est with him, and seem'd to take pett, but he perceived that I was not heartily angry with him, there­fore he hug'd me once more, and we took leave of one another.

I am overjoyed, my Pret­ty Creature, that all things have succeeded so according to my wish­es; this is but a Sample of what I will do for thee. And I will pro­cure [Page 86]thee the acquaintance of a Jesuite, to whom thou wilt undoub­tedly give the Prize, and wilt own that he has got the advantage o­ver all the others. But he is jea­lous of his acquaintance, even to Excess, tis the only fault that thou canst find in him, otherwise a hand­some man, gallant, a florid talker and ignorant of nothing that can come to the Knowledg of a Per­son.

That imperfection is great enough of all conscience, to hin­der me from having any Commu­nication with him.

And why so? Thou wilt find it a difficult matter to meet with a man who really Loves and is not jealous. I remember I was once acquainted with a Benedictin, who fancied that all the Nuns of St. Bennet could not Converse with Fryers of another Order without in­justice, and that they stole from him and his Fraternity all the Favours [Page 87]they bestowed upon the Capuchins, and his reasons were as follows. It is not to be doubted, but that men, who have devoted themselves to Religion, are subject to the same Passions and Motions, with those who are in the World. Where­fore said he, the Pounders of Orders who were very prudent Persons, did not only raise Cloisters for those of their own Sex, but at the same time built the like for Maydens, that without having recourse to strangers, they might ease and com­fort one another from time to time, in the rigour of their Vows. In the beginning this was practised, according to the intent of the In­stitutors; by which means there a­rose not the least scandal; but at pre­sent these Places savour too much of the General Corruption; we see without any trouble, the Ber­nardin Fryer, in Conjunction with the Jacobin Nun; the Cordelier with the Benedictin Vestal; and from this [Page 88]horrible Confusion, nothing can a­rise and proceed but Monsters.

That thought was pleasant enough.

Alas! Cryed he, what would those Holy Founders say at the sight of so many Adulterers, if they return'd upon the Earth? How many Thunderbolts and Ana­themas would they hurl against their own Children! Would not St. Francis send again the Capuchins, to the Capuchinesses, the Cordeliers to the Nuns of the same Order: Saint Dominick, and St. Bernard and all the rest, would not they bring again those Stragglers into the first way of their Rules and Constitu­tions, that is to say, the Jacobins to the Jacobinesses, the Mendicant to the Nuns of that Order? But what would become of the Jesuites, and the Chartereux said I to him, for neither St. Ignatius, nor St. Bruno drew up Rules for the Female Sex. Oh! that Spaniard, replyed he, took [Page 89]care enough for that, he did this on purpose that they might have oc­casion to forrage over all with im­punity; besides following his fancy which was something Pederaste, he has put 'em into imployments, wherein they find amongst the youth moments of satisfaction, which they prefer before all the Divertisements of others.

As for the Chartreux, continued he, as Retreat is strictly ordered them, they seek in themselves the pleasures they cannot take with o­thers, and by a brisk animated Warr, they make a shift to subdue the Highest Temptation & Insurrecti­on of the flesh. They renew the com­bat as often as the Enemy makes any against them, they employ their re­sistance in all their vigour, and call these sorts of Expeditions; The Warr of Five against One. Well did not the Disciple of St Bernard speak ve­ry Learnedly?

He did indeed, I should [Page 90]have taken delight in hearing him.

There's nothing more cer­tain than if this was practised, and that if in the disorder it self, some rules were followed, all would go much better. It is now a year since that a young Nun would not have been so unhappy as she has since been, if she had done with the Provincial of her Order, what she did with that of another. Thou hast perhaps heard talk of Sister Cecil, and of Father Raymond.

No I han't; tell me what thou knowest of 'em.

Sister Cecil is a Nun of the Order of St. Augustine, and Father Raymond, was the Provincial of the Jacobins. I shall not tell thee after what manner he insinuated him­self into the Breast of that inno­cent Creature, who had been inac­cessible to all others before; But thou shalt only know, that he ac­quired her to himself, that never friendship was more strict and en­gageing, [Page 91]and they could not rest a moment without seeing or receiv­ing News from one another. This Commerce was taken notice of in the Society; and the Provincial Augustin, who Govern'd that Con­vent, having received an inckling of this matter, was ready to die for vexation; because he had never been able to obtain those Privacies with her, though he had used all man­ner of means to corrupt her. She was the greatest Beauty in that Mo­nastery. Being thus netled to the quick, he wrote to the Abbess, and gave her order to have an eye up­on Cecil's Behaviour. It was an ea­sy matter for this Guardian, quick­ly to discover some extravagancies, for that the Parties were not up­on their Guard; but what they saw was only little wantonings; but however these were sufficient to give ground and occasion to a jea­lous man, who had the Power in his hand to misuse a Poor Nun. [Page 92]Nevertheless he did not entertain such a design, but purpos'd to him­self, though making use of that oc­casion, to have from her what he had not been able to obtain before. He wrote to her himself, that the business might not make a noise, and forid her the Grate until his Arri­bval, being twenty Leagues distant.

But could any Proof be produced against her, that she had done any notable matter?

Oh! That's an easy busi­ness to find, though there were none, when one has a design to destroy a Person. But all the mischief on­ly came from that she was ill ad­vised. The Provincial being thus ar­rived, told her, that nothing brought him thither, but the informations of her ill Conduct; that it was a shameful thing for such a young Nun as she, to abandon her self to Actions, that could not be nam'd for their Infamousness; and that he was very sorry to find himself o­bliged, [Page 93]to inflict upon her an exem­plary punishment. Cecil (who was only culpable before man of some little wantonings, as of eying and feeling) told him that it was true, she had often seen the Father Ray­mond they talk'd of, but that she also knew, that she had done no­thing with him, that merited any notable reprehension; that she had forbidden him to see her, as soon as she had received Orders for so doing; and that she had thereby shewn, that there was nothing ve­ry binding in their Engagement. The Provincial to bring about his design, changing discourse, spoke to her in more softer terms than before, and represented to her, that if any Mortification happened to her upon this account, she her self would be the cause of it; that she might remedy the disorder she had occasioned; and that it was a very easie matter for her, to parry those rigorous corrections, which she could [Page 94]not fail of falling under, if she did not make use of the advantages she possessed He took her at the same time by the hand, which he gras­ped after an Amourous manner, eying her with a smile, which ought to have made her understood the disposition of her Judges Heart.

Did she not make use of what she had most engaging to free her self out of the danger she was in?

No, she did not; but took a quite contrary course to that she ought to have followed; she ima­gin'd that it was to try her, that her Provincial spoke in this manner, and that his whole scope and de­signe was, to Judge by her weak­ness, of what she had been capable to do with the other. Upon this ill foundation, she only answer'd him, who burnt with Love for her, by Coldness and words more than indifferent; which chang'd the heart of that Amourous Priest, who of a tender Lover became by these [Page 95]means an implacable Judge. Where­upon he proceeded according to the Formes, in the information of Cecils process; he received the de­positions which jealousie and flatte­ry put into the mouth of several of her Companions, and condemned this poor Child to be whipt till Blood come, to fast ten Frydays on Bread and Water, and to be excluded from the Parlour six Months: So as one may say, she was punisht for having been too Wise, and for not suffering her self to be corrupted by the Brutality of her Superiour.

Good God! this story moves me strangely to Compassion; and I look upon that poor Nun, as an Innocent Victime, offered up to the rage of a Furious man, and I make no difference between her, and the Eleven thousand Virgins.

Thou art in the right; for these are said to have been slain, because they would not satisfye the Passion of a man, and poor Cecil [Page 96]was only outrag'd out of the same Motive & Reason. As there is no Animal in the World is more Luxurious than a Monk, so there is none more Maligne and more Vindictive, when his Flames are despised. I have read upon this Subject a Story of a cursed Capuchin, in a Book In­tituled the Goat at Rutt. But now we talk of Books, prethee tell me what those are which thou hast re­ceived during my Retreat? I ex­pect to have the Reading of 'em.

With all my heart; some of them are pleasant enough, this is the Catalogue of 'em.

• Pregnant Chastity, a Curious No­vel.
• The Jesuites Pastime, a Piece of Ga­lantry.
• The Prison Enlightned, or the Open­ing of the Little-Wicket, all in Figures.
• The Journal of the Feuillantine Nuns.
• The Prowesses of the Knights of St. Lawrence.
• Rules and Statutes of Conny-Bo­rough-Nunnery.
• [Page 97]A Collection of Remedies against dangerous Swelling.
• Compos'd for the Conveniency of the Religious Ladies of St. George.
• The Extrean Unction of the dy­ing Virginity.
• The Apostolical Orvietan Com­pos'd by Four Mendicant Fryers, Expraecepto Sanctissimi.
• The Monks Devotion.
• The Abbots Pastime.
• The Chartreux Warr.
• The Fruits of the Unitive Life, &c.

I believe I am not mistaken, that I have not forgot one in this List; I have already Read Five or Six of 'em, which have pleas'd me infinitely.

Certainly they have made thee a present of a whole Library. If the Contents be answerable to the Frontispieces, I do not doubt but that they must needs be very diverting: thou hast wherewith to perfectionate thy Wit, and to ren­der thee so as thou oughtest to be, [Page 98]that is to say, Universal in all Sci­ences; for there are those, who in the midst of a great deal of light and understanding, do still lye un­der doubts, which renders 'em some­times uneasy, and whose consequen­ces are often dangerous. I will tell thee a Story upon this Subject that happened in the Abbey at Chelles.

You must needs have won­derful intrigues, to know all that pass'd most secret in all the Mo­nasteries.

Thou must know, that the Abbess of that House, being of a very hot Constitution, was used to Bath every Summer for some weeks together. Her Bath was set up ac­cording to the prescription of Her Physician, who for the making it thought the better, prescribed a particular Rule and Method to ob­serve, without which it would be of no use. It was intirely to be prepared on the Evening, before she was to go into it, and let the [Page 99]water rest all the Night till the Morrow, and then she might at certain hours go into the Bath. Sweet Scents and Essences were not spa­red, they were thrown in with pro­fusion, and all that could flatter the Lady's sensuality had place in his Composition.

Ah these Quacks and Phy­sicians by a pretended Complai­sance do thus nourish and inflame Peoples weaknesses!

Be it as it will; a young Nun of the House called Sister Scholas­tica, of above Eighteen years of age, seeing all these Great preparations for my Lady Abbess, and perceiv­ing that the Bath was ready the Evening before, entertain'd the de­sign, (as well for easing her self of the inconveniency of the Season, as of her interiour Heat which was not very small) to take hold of the Occasion, to make tryal every Night of that salutary Lavabo. And indeed she constantly went into it for eight [Page 100]days together, and found that this gave a Lustre to her plump Bo­dy, and that she slept and rested the better for it. She went out of her Chamber about Nine a Clock, and almost Naked in her Smock, went to the place where all was ready; she quickly got off her Petticoats and her Smock, and thus Stark Naked went she in­to the Tub, where she clean'd and rub'd her self all over, and then af­terwards came out, as Clean, as Pure, and as Beautiful as was Eve in the Terrestial Paradice, during the State of her Innocence.

Was not she discover'd?

Thoul't presently hear the whole matter. One Night that Scholastica was Refreshing her self at the usual Rate, one of the Old Nuns, who was not yet asleep, ha­ving heard walking in the Dormi­tory, at an hour that according to Custome all Nuns were to be Re­tired, went out of her Chamber, [Page 101]and after having sought to no pur­pose the Person she had heard, she entred into the place where the Bath stood, where she perceived imme­diately by the Light of the Moon, a Nun stark Naked, who was rub­bing her self with a Napkin, be­ing ready to put on her Smock a­gain. The silly Old Dowdy think­ing it was the Abbess, retired in all hast & begged Pardon for her intru­sion. Scholastica made her no an­swer, but could perceive that this Old Matron was mistaken, and had taken her for another. Away went she too, after having given the o­ther time enough to withdraw, without intending to come thither again for fear she should be caught.

Well, but did the thing stop here?

No, Poor Scholastica's But­tocks would have been glad it had.

How! did that Pretty Crea­ture come to suffer for it?

The Venerable Matron I [Page 102]mentioned, having reflected in the Morning upon what she had seen the Night before, thought it con­venient to go to my Lady Abbess, to make her her particular Excuses for that Encounter, which she might attribute to an ill Curiosity; which she accordingly did, unluckily. This Extreamly Surpriz'd the Abbess, and made her believe, that she had had only the leavings of the filth of some infirm Nun of her Soci­ety: she spoke of it in the Chappel next Morning, and commanded (by Virtue of Holy Obedience) her who had put her self into the Bath, to declare it. But not one of the Com­pany spoke a Word; Scholastica was none of the most scrupulous, and had Wit and Sense, wherefore she held her peace. This General si­lence put the Abbess into despair, she cryed, thundred, threatn [...]d 'em all; but all to no purpose. At length by the Advice of a Monk, she prac­tiz'd a pleasant Stratagem: She [Page 103]caus'd all her Nuns to assemble, and represented to them, that there was one among them Excomunica­ted, and in the State of Damnati­on, for not having revealed what she had been Commanded to de­clare by Virtue of Holy Obedience; that a Holy and Learned man had given her an infallible means to dis­cover her, but that she still allow­ed her to speak the Truth, and a­void by that means the severe Pe­nance, which she would draw up­on her self, by her formal obstinate Disobedience.

Good Lord! I am terribly afraid for Scholastica in this per­plexity, for all the Counsel of Monks are always pernicious.

My Lady Abbess seeing that this last Constraint had been with­out effect, she followed the Ad­vice that had been given her. She caus'd a Table in a Room to be cover'd with a Coffin-Pall, & set in the midst the Cup of the Sacristie. [Page 104]This being so dispos'd, she com­manded all her Vestals to enter after one another into that Room, and to touch with their right hand the Foot of that Sacred Cup, (these were the Terms she used) that was set upon the Table, that by this means she should know, who it was that so obstinately concealed this wicked Fact so long, because that she would no sooner have put her fingers upon that Sacred Cup, than that the Table would fall upon the floor, and discover by a secret Ver­tue from above, she who should be Culpable. This was done about Nine a Clock at Night, and in the dark: whereupon they all entred in­to the Room, and toucht the Foot of the Cup with their hands. Scho­lastica was the only Person who durst not do it, for fear of being discovered, and only toucht the Carpet. After which she retired with the rest into another Room, which was also without Light, from [Page 105]whence the Abbess made them come to her one after the other, when all the Ceremonies were over. Now it is observable, that she had blacked the foot of the Cup with Oyl and Soot, so as it was impossible to touch it, without bearing away the marks of it. Thus having lighted a Candle in the Room she was in, she viewed the hands of all those Nuns, and found they had all toucht the Cup, except Scholastica who had no black upon her fingers, like the rest of Her Society. This made her judge, that it must be she who had committed the fault. This poor innocent Creature, seeing her self thus trappan'd by this Trick and Artifice, had recourse to tears and excuses, and came off for a couple of Disciplines, which she received be­fore all the Company. Well! this was only that outside of Religion, which was impiously made use of, which made her afraid; and if she had made the least reflection upon [Page 106]the impossibility there was, of dis­covering her by so ridiculous an Artifice, she would not have been found out.

That's right; but the Abbess ought to have pardoned her, upon the account of her Beauty and her Youth.

She might so, but she did not; nay, and I have heard say, that the first Discipline, which she or­dered her, lasted for above a quar­ter of an hour; judge then of the condition the poor Buttocks of that pretty Creature must needs be in.

They were undoubtedly much like mine when I shewed 'em thee: If it lay in my Power I would condemn that Cursed Counsel­lour of the Abbess to be a per­petual Gally Slave; and if the same business had happened to me, I would have laid so many snares for that Monk, by the means of some friends abroad, that I would have made him repent his Stratagem.

Dost thou think, that if he had in the least suspected this punishment would have fallen upon Scholastica, he would have had a hand in it? No; he i­magin'd as well as the Abbess, that it was some Old or some Infirm Creature that had been surprized, and it is that that turn'd the La­dy Abbesses Stomach, for having, as she fancied, wash'd her self in the filthy leavings of such Persons.

For my part I believe she was more at ease, when she knew it was Scholastica, who had been dab­bling in the Bath; for people are not disgusted with a young neat and handsome Girl, as thou hast represented her to me. The Penance she received puts me in mind of that of Virginia, and of the Chil­dren of the Jesuites four-square-Cap.

Stay; Ile shew you two of 'em I have in my Box, one from Father Raucourt, the other from Virginia; here read this first.

This is almost like a wo­mans hand, it is so scrawl'd and so carelessly written.

Ah God! My Dear Child, now do I begin to be tyred with this commerce of Letters! It does but the more Aug­ment my Flames, and not ease 'em in the least. It tells me that Virgi­nia has a kindness for me, but lets me know at the same time, that it is impossible for me to enjoy her. Alas! what strange motions does this mix­ture of sweetness and bitterness cause in such a heart as mine! I had heard say, that Love sometimes inspires those with Wit who were unprovided of it, but I find in my self a quite contrary effect; and I may truly say, that it takes from me what it doth present to others; several take notice of this change, but they are ignorant of the cause of it. I yesterday Preached at the Convent of the Nuns, of the Visitation, never was I more animated, & inspired; I ought Conformably to my Subject have entertain'd the Company with Morti­fication [Page 109]and Penance; But my whole Sermon and Discourse was made up of affections, and tendernesses, and sailleys and transports. It is you, Virginia, who causes all this disorder; wherefore take compassion of the confusi­on I am in, and endeavour betimes to find the means of bringing me back to my right Senses.

Well Agnes, what dost thou say of this Child got in hast?

I find it worthy of its Fa­ther, and capable all naked as it is of Dress and Ornament, not only of keeping to it self a heart that it possesses, but even of exciting there new motions.

Thou art in the right; for in some the most careless stile is al­ways the most perswasive; and of­tentimes all the Eloquence of an Oratour cannot produce those soft Transports in a Breast, as are on­ly the effects of a less lofty term, but more expressive. This is a Truth I can give Testimony of, since I [Page 110]have tryed it several times in my self. But let us see a little, if Vir­ginia expresses her self so well as her Lover.

Give me the Letter that I may read it.

There take it, tis rather a Note than a Letter, for its but five or six Lines in all.

Her hand is little different from mine.

Ah! how cunning are you in your words, and you know to perfection the art of disturbing the little Repose a poor innocent Creature who lov's you has left? can you with reason ask me, if I think on you? Alas, my Dear, con­sult but with your own self, and be­lieve that we cannot both be anima­ted with one and the same Passion, without undergoing the like and e­qual torments.

Adieu! be mindful of the breaking of our Chaines; Love renders me Capa­pable of any enterprize. Ah! how much weakness does it cause in me!

In good earnest, Dost thou not think-this Note more tender than the Letter?

Yes indeed. We may say it is all Heart, and that two or three Periods express as much the disposition of the Soul of a Lover, as would do two Pages of a Ro­mance. But I do not see that it is an answer to that we have read from Father Raucourt.

No, 'tis not, 'tis to an other which was not sent me.

I pitty the misfortunes of those two Lovers; especially I bear an extream Compassion to the trou­bles of Virginia, for undoubtedly she spends her time at present in a great deal of anxiety and affliction, and leads a very wretched tedious life.

If she had not kept the Let­ters and Notes that had been sent to her, she would not have been so unhappy; for then they would not have discovered the Design she had, [Page 112]of making her escape out of the Monastery.

Then it is undoubtedly that she means, when she sayes in Her Letter, Think of the rupture of our Chains. I should not have hit of the right sence of these words; Alas! poor Creature, how unhap­py had she been, had she commit­ted that egregious mistake: Alack­aday, Alackaday! What is not Love capable of doing, when it meets with opposition.

As soon as the Rector of the Jesuites had learnt what passed, by the Letter he found in the Bon­net, he gave notice thereof to the Abbess, who went immediately with Her Assistance to search Vir­ginia's Chamber, where she found in her Box an infinite Number of Letters and other trifles, which dis­covered to her the truth of what she could not have believed, if she had not seen it. As she highly loved Virginia, she onely shew'd [Page 113]in these proceedings, what she could not well conceal, and moderated the punishment which the Consti­tutions do prescribe.

The Jesuite was more hap­py since he came off onely for Changing his Province.

Phoogh! You're mistaken, this storm did not blow over so easi­ly as thou imaginest. He is at present out of Society. Thou must know that as in that Society all is hing'd and established upon Esteem and Reputation, it is im­possible for a man of honour to re­main in it, after he has lost by some accident, those two things which so agreably flatter the Ambition of mankind. Father Raucourt seeing himself thus fallen, by the misfor­tune I told thee, from that degree of Glory, which he had acquired by his Merits, and wherein he had alwayes maintained himself by his Prudence, set little value upon the Indulgence which his Superiours [Page 114]offered him, and thought onely of abandoning them; which he did a while agoe, and retired into England.

What can a man do in a forreign Country, who has no other fortune than knowledge, nor other Estate than Philosophy.

What can he do? Why he can render himself more useful to the Common-Wealth, than all the Artificers who compose it: He may by his writings give vigour to Laws the most opposite to the Inclination of the people; he may carry the Glory of a Nation into places the most remote: In short, there are very few Employments, but which he can worthily acquit himself of, and from which the State may draw considerable Advanta­ges. As what I say is not void of Reason, so neither is it without ex­ample; and I have learnt from a Dominican, that a Male-content of their Order was at the Court of [Page 115]that Kingdom, whither Raucourt made his Retreat, and that he made a very fine Figure there, in the quality of a Resident or Envoy of a German Prince.

Without doubt he would have conducted Virginia into that Countrey, if they had brought a­bout their designs. Alas! there would be but few reclused of ei­ther Sex, if those who go into Cloy­sters had but time given them to re­flect upon the Advantages of Civil Liberty, and upon the ill Consequences of a Fatal En­gagement.

Why dost thou talk at this rate? Cannot we enjoy as perfect Pleasures within the compass of our walls, as those do who are abroad? The Obstacles that oppose them, do but serve to give 'em the better taste and relish, when that after ha­ving cunningly and dextrously sur­mounted 'em, we possess what we have desired. It would be both [Page 116]maligne and ungrateful, to censure the Divertizements both of Monks and Nuns; for I should ask those people, is it not true, that Conti­nency is a gift of God, which he gratifies whom he pleases with, and which he only bestows upon those whom he thinks fitting to Honour! This being supposed, he will only require an account of that Present from those to whom he gave it.

I do well enough under­stand the strength of that reason, but one might say that the Vows by which we solemnly engage our selves, do render us responsible be­fore him.

And dost thou not perceive, that those Vows which thou ma­kest in the hands of men, are on­ly Songs? Canst thou with reason oblige thy self to give what thou hast not? And what thou canst not have, unless it pleases him to whom thou offerest it, to grant it thee? [Page 117]Judge from hence of the Nature of our engagements; and if to the ri­gour we are held according to God, to the effect of our promises; since that they contain in 'em a moral impossibility, thou hast no­thing to say to destroy this ar­gument.

'Tis true, I have not, and this is what ought to set our minds at rest?

For my part I may say, that nothing troubles me, I spend my time in an Equallity of mind, which renders me insensible to the Tor­ments which weary and fatigue o­thers. I see all, hear all, but few things are capable of moveing me; and if my Repose were not trou­bled by some Corporal Indispositi­on, there is not a Person could Live with more Tranquility than I do.

But in a Conduct so oppo­site to that of other Cloisters, What do you think of the disposition of [Page 118]their Souls, and those Actions which are followed as they Preach, with so many merits, do not they tempt by the hopes they propose? They might tell us, that Libertinism is often capable to furnish us with Reasons for our own ruine. For what is more Holy than the Meditation of Celestial things, wherein they imploy themselves? What is more Laudible and Praise-worthy than that great Piety which they put in practice, and the fastings and austerities wherewith they mor­tifie themselves, can they pass under the Notion of Fruitless Works?

Ah! my poor Child, how weak are all these obligations. Thou must know, that there is a great deal of difference between Licencious­ness & Liberty; I often in my acti­ons hold my self upon the rim of the latter, but now fall into the disorder of the former. If I do not give bounds to my joy and to [Page 119]my pleasures, it is because they are innocent, and that they never wound by their excess the things for which I ought to have a Ve­neration. But give me leave to tell thee what I think of those Melancholly Fools, with whose man­ners thou art charmed; dost thou know that what thou callest Con­templation of things Divine, is on­ly at the bottom a sordid Lazi­ness incapable of all Action? That the Motions of that Heroick Piety which thou so much extollest, do only proceed from the disorder of a crack'd Brain; and that to find out the cause that makes them tear themselves like distracted people, you must seek it in the va­pours of a Black humour, or in the weakness of their Pericra­nium?

I take so much delight in hearing thy Reasons, that I propo­sed to thee all on purpose as a dif­ficulty which did not make me suf­fer [Page 120]the least doubt; but I hear the Bell that calls us!

It is to go to the Refec­tory, after Dinner we will conti­nue our Conferences.

Ah how Grateful and Pleasant is the Beauty of this Day! It Revives all my Spi­rits. Let us both retire into that Alley, that so we may get rid of the Company of others.

We cannot find a more convenient place in all the Garden for our Walk, for the Trees which environ us, give us as much shade [Page 122]as is necessary, to hinder our being expos'd to the heat of the Sun.

True; but it is to be feared that my Lady Abbess will come to recreate her self here, for this is the place she most commonly chooses to take the Air in after meals.

Be not you afraid of her coming to disturb us here, she is indispos'd at present, and if thou knewest but the cause of her indis­position, thou wouldest laugh hearti­ly.

Why she was well enough yesterday?

Shee was so, the Disaster only befel her this night, and thou must needs have slept very sound­ly, if thou didst not perceive that, by her shrikes and bawlings out, she frighted and alarum'd all the Dormitory. I intended to have made it part of our Diversion when I came unto thee this morning; but insensibly our Conversation devia­ted upon other subjects.

The truth is, I hear no­thing but what's publick.

You know that one of my Ladyes Principal Pleasures consists in nourishing all sorts of Animals, and that she does not content her self with enjoying an infinite num­ber of Birds, she has likewise ren­dered tame & Domestick, even Tor­toises and Fish. As she makes no secret of this folly, and that she calls this Amusement, The charms of a Solitary Life; they all endea­vour to Contribute to her Divertize­ment, by making her presents some­times of one Creature, sometimes of another. The Abbot of St. Vallery having heard that she had rendred, (as he had been given to under­stand) even Carps and Pikes, tame and familiar; he sent her four days ago two live Mackerells, two Sea Crabs, likewise living. After having caus'd the wings of those Demy-Ducks to be cut, she put them in­to the Pond, resolved to make it [Page 124]her whole business to look after the Craw-Fish; for which reason she caus'd a little Trough to be brought into her Chamber, which she had filled with water, and where she put those Lobsters, (so are those A­nimals called). It is hardly to be ex­pressed what pains she took for their preservation, even to the cast­ing them Sweet-meats and Sugar­plums; in short, she would only feed 'em with the most delicate meats and food.

Those sort of pastimes are innocent and excusable in youth.

Yesterday Evening, by ill luck, Sister Olinda, who had order to change the water every day in the Trough for the refreshment of the Fish, forgot to do it, which was the cause of all this disorder. You must know that the last night having been very hot, one of these Lobsters, finding himself incommoded by the heat it felt, went out of the Trough, and trail'd along the Cham­ber, [Page 125]untill that seeing it self with­out ease, it sought after the wa­ter it had left, as its most Natural Element. But as it was much more easy for it to descend than to mount, it was constrain'd to have recourse to the water of my Ladyes Chamber-Pot, where without examining whether it was fresh or salt it po­sted it self. Some time after our Ab­bess had occasion to piss, and half asleep, and without going out of the Bed, she took her Urinal; but alas! she had like to have been frighted to death, this Crah-Fish finding it self watered with some­thing too warm a shower, lanched forth towards the place from whence it seem'd to come, and seiz'd it so hard with one of its paws, that take my word it has left marks there for above this week.

Ha, ha, ha, This, this in­deed is a pleasant Adventure!

At the very same mo­ment she gave a skrich that awa­kened [Page 126]all her neighbours, flung the Looking-glass upon the floor, and get­ing up in a terrible fright, called people to her help. In the mean while this Animall, that had never met with so delicate and so relish­ing a bit, let not go its hold. The Mother Assistant, and Sister Corne­lia, were the soonest up; Cornelia had much ado to forbear laughing at the sight of such a scene, but check'd her self however the best she was able. But the Mother As­sistant being dim-sighted, put on her Spectacles to see what was the matter, and peering too nigh, the Crab caught hold of her nose with the other Claw; this added to Cor­nelias's Diversion, who was for­ced to cut off the Claws of that Sacrilegious Creature, which till then did not abandon its prey. The Mother Assist [...]nt withdrew to her own Room, very much concerned at the outrage done to her Reve­rend Nose; and Sister Cornelia, who [Page 127]is my Lady Abbess's Confident, spent the rest of the Night with her to comfort her in this distress. This is the cause of our Abbesses indispo­sition, which will apparently hin­der her from interrupting our con­ferences.

Ah Lord! I should not dare to appear if such an accident had happened to me, and that it was come to other peoples know­ledg.

Truly a mighty business to be ashamed of, she let nothing be seen but what she had often shown to others, and the Knights of the Order have plac'd their hands se­veral times where the Crab placed his paw.

But which of all her Knights is her greatest Darling.

I know not well which is, but this I know that a Jesuite vi­sits her often, and that he has had privacies with her, that give us to understand he is one of the Blew-Ribbons. [Page 128]I perceived her one day with him in a very servent Com­munication; & at another time that she went out with the same Per­son, I found in the Parlour she went out of, a Napkin wet in certain places with a certain vis­cous Liquor; she had let it fall neer the window; I do not speak of this Rencounter, I only observed that the loss made her somewhat unea­sy.

What needed shee to fear, the Bishop on whom she depends, is wholly at her Discretion, in the visit he has made of this Monaste­ry, he had ordered nothing but what she had before prescribed to him.

Right, Shee is Mistress of all, and the Directours and Confes­sors are only received and changed by her Order.

Ah! I could wish with all my heart, that our Common Con­fessor whom we have at present, [Page 129]did but displease her, as much as he does me; what sayest thou to it?

The truth, is he is very au­stere, and is capable of putting those to a great deal of trouble who knew not how to behave them­selves; but to such as you and I, it ought to be indifferent to us whe­ther it be he, or a less rigorous Per­son who hears us.

For my part, I cannot con­fess the least tyny sin, but that he falls into a Passion. For a thought I accused my self of, he ordered me terrible Mortifications and Pe­nances, and will make me fast two days for the least motion of the Flesh that I shall confess to him. Besides, I know not what most com­monly to Entertain him with, for fear of telling him something that should displease him. And I can­not conceive what course thou ta­kest, thou who keepest him so long?

And dost thou believe me so silly as to declare to him the secret of my heart; for from that, as I conceive him altogether rigid, I only tell him such things as there is no hold to be laid on; he cannot conclude from all that he hears from me, but that I am a Mai­den of Prayer and Contemplation, who is not acquainted with all the Motions of a Corrupted Nature, which makes him he dares not question me upon that matter; the severest Penance I have received, is Five Pater Nosters, and the Li­tanies.

But what dost thou say to him then, for only having broke silence, or droll'd upon a Person of the Community, (which is nothing) he will Schooll me for a quarter of an hour

All these faults being de­signed in particular, with their Cir­cumstances, of small, become some­times more Considerable; and this [Page 131]is what renders thee subject to his Reprehension. But see the course I take by giving Ear to my last Confession. After having most humbly begg'd his Blessing, with my eyes down, my hands lifted up, and my Body bending: I began in this manner.

My Father, I am the greatest Sin­ner on the Earth, and the weakest of all Creatures, I almost ever fall into the same faults.

I accuse my self of having trou­bled the Tranquility of my soul, with Universal Divagations, which have put my Breast in disorder.

Of not having had sufficient Recol­lection of mind, and of having spent too much time in external Occupati­ons.

Of having dwelt too long upon the Opperations of the understanding, spend­ing therein the most of my Prayers to the prejudice of my will, which re­main'd by that means dry and bar­ren.

Of having at another time suffer­ed my self to be engag'd in Affecti­on, and exposed thereby to trouble­some Distractions, and to a Lazyness of Spirit, contrary to the methodicall perfection of the Contemplative.

Of having kept too much in me, too much of what is belonging to me, without disengaging my heart from all Created things, by a generous Act of suppression of self Love, Interests, De­sires and Wills, and of my self.

Of having made an offering of my heart without having first of all Tran­quillized and Pacified it, and freed it from the trouble of the too unru­ly Passions and disorderly affections.

Of having suffered my self to be led away by the inclinations of the Old man, and by the proneness of an un­repaired Nature, instead of making a Divorce from all, for the gaining all.

Of not having been carefull to re­new my self by a review of my self, in my self, and of making the Re­paration [Page 133]in me of what was decay­ed, &c.

Well Agnes, Thou mayest judge of the whole piece by this Sam­ple. This is not the third part of my Confession, but the rest ren­ders me no more Criminal than this beginning.

The truth is, that I should be very much puzzled, were I to order Penances to Sins so ingeniously laid open; and yet this is the on­ly way to deceive the Curiosity of young Directours, and avoid the Reprimands of the Old.

The Latter are commonly the least tractable; for I have seen but few Fasts, since I have been in the Society, but what have been pretty indulgent.

The truth is, that they have not all the same rigours, Witness him who Imprinted Devotion so deep in the Soul of two of our Sis­ters, that they found themselves very much incommoded Nine Months afterwards.

Good Lord! 'Tis well they had so much Wit and Cunning, to conceal it as they did, and to hin­der this job from being blab'd a­broad. It came not so much as to the knowledg of the Bishop him­self, but when there could no lon­ger any proof be made thereof. It puts me in mind of an Italian-Jesuite, who one day Confessing a young French Gentleman, who had learnt the Language of the Country, gave an Exclamation without thinking of it, which made known his weakness. The Peni­tent accus'd himself of having spent the night with a young Lady of of one of the Principal Families of Rome, and of having enjoyed her according to his desire; The Good Father looking very wishfully & at­tentively on the Person who spoke to him, being a handsome youth & well made, forgot himself so far as to the Office he performed, and imagining himself to be in a free Conversa­tion, [Page 135]so transported was he, he ask'd the young Spark, if she was Beautifull, what Age she was of, and how many times he had done the job with her? The French man making his answer, that he had found her a perfect, exquisite Beau­ty, that she was but Eighteen years Old, and that he had done it three times. Ah qual gusto Sig­nior, Cryed he then pretty loud; that's to say, Ah the delight and pleasure of the enjoyment of such a Creature!

This Sailly was not unplea­sant, and very capable of Excit­ing the heat of a Penitent to the repentance of such a fault.

What wouldst thou have, they are men as well as others: and I have heard one of my friends say, who was in those sort of Em­ployments, that often a Confessor would not expose himself so much by going to a Bawdy-House, were it not for what the devout whisper in his Ear.

For my part, I should find methinks that Occupation pretty Diverting, provided I was allowed to make choice of my Penitent: I should take pleasure in hearing 'em, and my imagination would be notably tickled by the account they should give me of their fol­lies. Which would not be with­out a great deal of pleasure on my Part.

Alas my Child! Knowest thou what thou askest? if a Devout Woman affords a little pleasure to a Confessor by the ingenious ac­count she gives of her weaknesses, there are a thousand who weary them by their repetitions, who tire them out with their scruples; and when they would with more ease free themselves out of an Abbyss than from their doubts. Sister Dosithea has for above three years almost, solely taken up the Common Di­rectour of the House by her Ques­tions. It was to no purpose for [Page 137]him to represent to her, that those curious Niceties wherewith she tor­tured her Conscience, never think­ing she had taken care enough to examine her self, were not only useless but likewise vicious and con­trary to perfection; he could do no good with her, and was Con­strain'd to abandon her to her self, and leave her in her errour.

Methinks however, that she is at present more reasonable; and I remember that once we were ob­lidged to lye both together, while that our Dormitory was setting up; she kept me in discourse, but in such discourse as was not only far from any scruple, but likewise which I found at that time somewhat too free and libertine. Besides a thou­sand wantonings to which she ex­cited me, by the Relation of an hundred Stories, the most Smutty and Lascivious imaginable.

I perceive thou knowest not how she was freed out of the [Page 138]errour Superstition had plung'd her so deep in: her Confessor had no share in her delivery; we may say that it is Devotion it self that has produced this change and that of a Maiden extreamly Scrupulous, it has made a Religious altogether reasonable. I am content to tell all I know of this matter, from her own mouth.

I do not well conceive this, for to say that Devotion can rid a person of her Scruples, is to say, that a blind man is capable of free­ing another from a Precipice.

Hear me but, and thou wilt find I have urg'd nothing but what is true. Sister Dosithea as you may perceive by her eyes, is na­turally of the most tenderest a­morous Complexion imaginable; this poor Creature at her entrance into Religion, fell into the hands of an old Director superlatively igno­rant, and so much the more an E­nemy of Nature, as that his Age [Page 139]rendred him uncapable of all the plea­sures it proposes. Thus finding that the inclination of his Penitent was car­nally given, and that the failing, and weaknesses she accused herself of every day, were a certain sign of it; He thought it was his duty to reform that Na­ture which he called Corrupted, and that it was allowed him to erect himself into a second Rapairer. To bring this design about, he cast into her mind all the Seeds of Scruples, of doubts, of tor­ments, and pains of Conscience he could bethink himself of. He did it with so much the more success, as that he found a disposition in her to 'em, and that the ingenuous Confessions he had often heard from this innocent Creature, made him know the extream tenderness she had in what concerned her Salvation.

Whereupon he gave her a description of the way to Heaven in such course co­lours, that they would have been capa­ble of discouraging and disgusting from the persuit of it, a Person less zealous, and less fervent than Sister Dosithea. He only spoke to her of the Destruction of that Body, which opposed it self to the enjoyment of the Spirit, and the hor­rible penances wherewith he loaded her [Page 140] [...] said, means absolutely necessa­ [...] [...] which it was impossible for [...] arrive at that Celestiall Jerusa­ [...] [...]

[...] not being capable to defend [...] against these arguments, suffer'd [...] to be led away blindly by the [...] [...]eet Devotion, with which she was [...] [...]ated: The plain practice of God's [...]andments, was no longer thought [...] to be of any great consideration [...] him, they were to be accompa­ [...] [...] with works of supererrogation, and [...] [...]ith all this Clutter, she was still [...] [...]ontinual fear of the paines of a­ [...] [...] World, with which she was so [...] [...]reatned. As it is impossible here [...] destroy in us what we call Con­ [...] [...], she was never in peace with [...] it was a perpetual War which [...] prudently made upon her poor [...] and the sierce Conflicts she in­ [...] [...] upon it, were rarely followed with [...] [...]rt Cessation.

[...] Alas! poor Creature, I pitty [...] how strangely should. I have [...] [...]ved with Compassion, had I seen [...] [...]hat errour.

[...] As her amourous disposition cau­ [...] [...]er, her greatest failings, She [Page 141]neglected nothing of all that could ex­tinguish her most innocent flames, fast­ings, hair shifts, and all other rigorous usage were put in practice, and the change of a more reasonable Directour than her former, brought not the least Diminution to her folly. She was four whole years in this condition, and would have remained so in it still, had not a fit of Devotion forced her out of it. Amongst the Counsels she had received from her ancient Directour, she practised one with an unequall'd regularity; which was, to have recourse to a Picture of St. Alexis, the Mirrour of Chastity, which was in her Oratory, and to prostrate her self there,, when she saw her self pres­sed by temptations, or that she felt in her those movements which she accused her self so often of. Thus one day that she found her self more moved than usu­al, and that her nature attacked her brisker than was customary, she had re­course to her Saint; represented to him with tears in her eyes, her face upon the floor, and her heart lifted up towards Heaven, the extreame danger she found her self in; related to him with a won­derful candour and simplicity, to how little purpose she had defended her self, [Page 142]and used all her efforts to repress the violent transports she was seized with.

She accompanyed her prayers with Penance and Discipline, which she inflicted in the presence of this welbeloved Pilgrim. But as they tell of him that he was not in the least toucht with the Beauty of his Wife on the first Night of his Wedding, but abandoned her on the Contrary, the beautiful Body of this innocent Creature exposed naked before him, made no im­pression upon his Spirit, and the lashes she so briskly swinged her self with did not move him in any wise to compassion. Af­ter having clawed her self off in this man­ner, she recommended her self anew to this good Roman, and withdrew as one victo­rious, to go pass her time in Peace in less fatiguing exercises.

Good God! What a bussle and hurry does Superstition make in the soul when it has once got possession of it!

Dosithea was hardly got out of her Room, than that she found her bo­dy all of a sire, and her mind inclined to the pursuit of a pleasure which she was not yet acquainted with. An extraordi­nary tickling animated all her sences, and her imagination filling it self with a a thousand lascivious Ideas left this [Page 143]Poor Religious half vanquished. In this pittious condition she returned to her Intercessour, redoubled her prayers, and conjured him by all that Devotion can have most sensible to grant her the gift of Continency; her servency did not stop there, she took Instruments of pe­nance in hand, and made use of 'em for a quarter of an hour together, with the maddest and most indiscreet zeale ima­ginable.

Well but this gave her some ease, did it not?

Alas! Far from that, she retired from her Oratory more and more trans­ported with Love than before. The Bell rung to Vespers much ado had she to assist at 'em all the while. Sparkes of fire flew out at her eyes, and without knowing what she fuffered, I admired her instability, and at her being in so continual a motion.

But from whence proceeded this?

This was occasioned by the ex­tream heat she felt over all her Body, and especially in those parts where she had disciplined her self; for you must know these sorts of exercises were so far from extinguishing the flames wherewith she was consumed, that on the contrary they [Page 144]had more and more augmented them, and had reduced that poor creature into such a condition, as that she was hardly any longer able to bear with it. This is easy to conceive, forasmuch as the lashes she had clawed her backside with, had ex­cited heat in all the Neighbourhood, had brought thither the purest and most sub­tile spirits of the blood, which to find an Issue conformable to their nature all of fire, did prick so notably the parts where they were assembled, as if it were to make a passage.

Did the conflict last long?

It began and ended in a day; for as soon as Vespers were over, Dosi­thea, as if she could not directly have addressed her self to God, went to pro­strate her self again before her Oratory, Prayed, Wept, Groaned, but all to no purpose. She found her self more pressed than ever, and to insult a-new this ob­stinate Nature, she took her whip in hand, and lifting up her Peticoats and smock to her Navel, and tying them up with a girdle, she outraged her buttocks with extraordinary violence, and that part which put her to so much pain be­ing all uncovered. This raging having lasted for some time, her strength fail'd [Page 145]her for that cruel exercise, nay [...] not enough left to untie her clothes, [...] exposed her half naked, she leane [...] her head upon the Bed, and [...] reflection upon the Condition of [...] kind which she called Unhappy, [...] they were born with motions [...] condemned, tho' it was almost in [...] ble to bridle them. She fell into [...] of a trance, but it was an amou [...] [...] trance caused by the fury of the pass [...] and which made that poor young [...] enjoy such a delight as ravish'd he [...] the very Heavens. In that moment [...] ture uniting all its forces, and Virgi [...] which tell then had been a Captive, d [...]vered it self without any help with an [...] petuosity, in leaving there the Keeper [...] tended upon the floor for an evid [...] token of her Defeat.

O Lord! Oh Lord! I wish I [...] been by!

Alas! What pleasure could [...] have been to thee? Thou wouldst [...] seen that innocent Creature sighing [...] panting, which she knew not the cause [...] Thou wouldest have seen her in an [...]tacy, her eyes half dying without Viv [...] city or Vigour, yeilding to the Laws [...] meer Nature, & lose maugre all her [...] [Page 146]that Treasure, the keeping whereof had put her to so much pain.

Well this is what I should have taken delight in, to view her thus all naked, and to observe curiously all the transports, that Love would have caused in her at the moment she was overcome.

As soon as Dosithea was recove­red from this Rapture, her mind which was before clouded and buried in thick darkness, found it self unvailed at the very instant of all its obscurity: Her eyes were opened, and reflecting upon what she had done, and upon the little virtue of her Saint, whom she had so much invoked, she knew she had been in an errour, and thus raised her self by her own strength through a surprizing Metamorphosis, above all things which she durst not before look upon, and had nothing but a contempt for what before she had the greatest Veneration.

That is to say, that of Scrupu­lous, she became Indevout, and Irreli­gious, and that she made no more Offe­rings to all the little Saints she adored before.

Thou takest things in a wrong sence; we may rid our selves of Super­stition without falling into Impiety; [Page 147]which was what Dosithea did; she had learnt by experience, that it was to the Soveraign Physitian, that recourse is to be had to in one's weaknesses and fail­ings, that temptations were not in the power of the faithful, and that in the most submissive Soul, there often arose involuntary thoughts and motions, which however could not occasion any fault or imperfection. Thou seest how that I told thee nothing but what is true, when I urg'd that it was Devotion that freed her from her scruples.

Almost the same thing happened to an Italian Nun, Who after having pro­strated her self very often before the figure of a Child newly born, which she called her little Jesus, and had conju­red it several times to grant her the same thing by tender words which she uttered with an extraordinary affecti­on. Dolce Signore Mio Gjesu, fatte mi la gratia, seeing that all her prayers were without effect, she fancied that the In­fancy of him she invoked, was the cause thereof, and that she should find better redress in addressing her self to the Image of the eternal Father, which represen­ted him in a more advanced age: She went thereupon again to her little Lord, [Page 148]whom she upbraided with his little ver­tue, protesting that she would never a­muse her self with him, nor any little Child of his sort; and left him in that manner applying to him these words of the Proverb. Chi S'impaccia con Fanciulli, con Fanciulli si ritrova. Do but reflect a little how far superstition does sometimes go, & to what an extremity of folly ignorance does sometimes lead us.

The truth is that these examples are a sensible proof of what you now say, and that the simplicity of this Nun is unparellel'd: The Italian Women however doe not pass for fools, they are said to have an infinite deal of Wit, and that few things are capable of puz­ling them, and escaping their under­standing.

That is true, generally speak­ing, but there are ever some who are not so sharp, and so quick witted as the others. Besides, it is not alwaies a sign of stupidity to have doubts and scruples, for you must know, my Dear Agnes, that (unless it be things of Religion) there is nothing certain or sure in this World, there is no side but may be maintained, we have commonly only false and con­fused [Page 149]Notions of those things, which we think we know most perfectly. Truth is yet more unknown, and all the pain [...] and artifices of men, who apply them­selves to the search of it, have not yet been able to render it sensible to us, tho they have often fancied they had found it out.

But how must we then manage our mind in so universal an Ignorance?

You must my Child, to prevent the being mistaken and abused, Consi­der things from their Rise, view them in their pure naturals, and afterwards judge of them conformably to what we see thereof. You must above all avoid suffering your Reason to be prepossessed and prejudiced, neither must ye suffer it to be besieged by the sentiments of others, which commonly are only Opi­nions. And you must be cautious, how you suffer your self to be taken by the eyes, and by the ears, that is to say, by a thousand exteriour things, which are often made use of for the seducing our sences, but still preserve our mind free and disengaged, from the silly movings, and childish Maximes, with which the Vulgar is infatuated, who like Brute ani­mals run after all that is [...] [Page 150]'em, provided it be gilded with some fine appearance.

I understand all this well enough, and I fancy too that thy Argument might be pushed on much farther, and comprehend therein many things which thou exemptest from it. I must own there is a great deal of pleasure in hea­ring thy discourse, and though thou were't not so young, and so lovely as thou really art, thy Witt alone would render thee amiable. Priddee buss me once.

With all my heart, My Dear Creature, I am overjoyed with pleasing thee in any thing, and with having found in thee so much disposition to receive the instructions which thou wantest. When our minds are cleared of those clouds of Darkness, and freed from all manner of disquiet, there is not a mo­ment in our whole lives, but that affords us some pleasures, and which may procure to us recreation from the very torments and scruples of others. But let us lay aside all this morality, wherein I have insensibly engaged my self. Kiss me my little Mignion, I love thee more than my own life.

Well, are you satisfied? thou little thinkest that People my see us here.

And what reason have we to fear? Let us go into that Arbour and there no body can see us. But I am not yet satisfied, thy kisses have nothing that's common, give me one after the Florentine way?

I believe thou art mad? Does the World kiss after the same manner? What dost thou mean by kissing after the Florentime way?

Come and Ile teach it thee.

Oh! Lord thou sets me all of a Fire! Ah what a Lascivious way hast thou with thee! Prethee stand off; Ah how thou huggest me, thou devourest me!

I must pay and reward my self for the Lessons that I give thee. Now this is the way that persons use in kissing, who really Love one another, by A­mourously Lanching the tongue between the Lips of the Object one Adores; for my part I find nothing more sweet, and more delicious, when we acquit our selves of it in due manner, and I never practice it without being Ravisht into an Extasy, and without feeling through all my Body an extraordinary Titilation, and [Page 152]a certain I know not what, that I can­not express to thee, than by telling thee, that it is a secret Pleasure which spreads it self Universally into all the most se­cret parts of my self, which penetrates into the very bottom of my Heart, and which I have right to term, An Abridg­ment of Soveraign Voluptuousness. But what not a word; what sence doth it raise in thee?

Did I not tell it thee suffici­ently, when I let thee know that thou puttest me all in a flame; but whence comes it that thou callest these sort of kisses a kiss after the Florentine mode?

The reason is, that amongst all the Italians, the Ladyes of Florence pass for the most Amourous, and do gene­rally Practise this kiss after the man­ner thou hast received it from me. They take a singular delight therein, and say they do it in imitation of the Dove, which is an innocent Bird; and that they find therein I know not what that's Las­civious and Poignant, which they do not find and tast in others. I am amaz'd that the Abbot and the Mendicant did not teach thee this during my retreat? for they have travelled Italy, and in all probability they have rendered them­selves [Page 153]knowing in all the most secret practices of Love, which are peculiar to those of the Country.

Truly my mind was employed in something else, than these simple tri­fles when they came to see me, for me to remember 'em at present. I know very well, that there is no sort of Cares­ses and Follies, but what their Amo­rous fury bethought it self of; but in­deed the Pleasure I took therein was so Great, and the Ravishment those Tran­sports caused in me so Excessive, that I had not sufficient freedom of Judge­ment left to reflect thereon.

The Truth is, that the sweet moments, wherein we enjoy that vo­luptuousness, doe so possess us, that we are not capable of withdrawing our selves by any application of our memo­ry, nor to make an Agenda at that instant of all that passes within our selves. Yet I do not doubt but the Abbot and the Mendicant have extended their Galan­try so far; for besides thy having a Di­vine mouth, they are perfectly infor­med of all the softest and most Engage­ing arts and ways of those who know Passionately how to Love.

Alas! They know but too much [Page 154]of those matters, for persons consecra­ted to the Altars and devoted to Con­tinency.

This is pleasant in you indeed, and those who know thee not would think that thou speakest seriously. But shall I tell thee my thought? I fancy that they cannot know too much, but that they might practise less? For cer­tain it is; that having the direction of Souls, they ought to have a perfect knowledg of Good as well as Evil, for the making a just distinction, and for exhorting with the more Vehemence, to the Love and pursuit of the one, and Preaching to us with the like zeal the a­voiding and the aversion of the other. But they do nothing less than this, and the ill Books they draw their lights from, Corrupt their VVills as well as Enlighten their Understandings?

I fancy thou mistakest and a­busest the terms, and that thou dost not call to mind, that amongst the Learned there is no Books that of its nature bears the Title of forbidden, and that the use alone we make thereof, gives it the quality of good, bad, or indiffe, rent.

Good God! Thy talking [Page 155]at this rate, makes me think thou ra­vest, and thou must agree with me, there are certain Books all whose parts are bad, and whose instructions are essenti­ally opposite to good Morality and the practice of Vertue. What canst thou say of the School of Ʋenus, and of that Infamous Phylosophy, that has nothing but what's flat and insipid, and all whose poor and silly Reasonings can on­ly perswade low and vulgar Spirits, or only touch those who are least cor­rupted, or who of themselves suffer themselves to be led away to all man­ner of weaknesses.

I own that that Book may be placed in the ranks of things useless, nay of those that are forbidden; I wish I could recover again the time that I employed in reading it, and there was nothing in it that pleas'd me, nor but what I condemn'd. The Abbot who shew'd it me, gave me another which is almost upon the same matter, but which treats it and manages it with much more Wit and Ingenuity.

I know what Book thou mean­est; it's as bad (as to manners) as the former, and though the purity of its Stile, and its easy Eloquence have [Page 156]something agreable, this does not hin­der it from being infinitely dangerous, since the Flame and the briskness which sparkle there in many places, do only serve to make people swallow with the better gust the venom wherewith it is filled, and insinuate it insensibly into the hearts of those that are the least sus­ceptible; its Title is, The Academy of Ladyes: Or the Seven Satyrical Dialogues of Aloisia. I have had it for above this Week in my hands, and he from whom I received it, explained to me the most difficult passages, and gave me a per­fect understanding of all it has myste­rious. Especially he interpreted to me these words, which are in the Seventh Dialogue, Amori, vera Lux, and disco­vered to me the anagramatical sence which they concealed, under the simple appearance of the inscription of a Me­dal. I fancy it was of this Book, that thou hadst a design to speak?

Right, it was so. Lord, Lord, how ingenious it is in inventing new Pleasures for a satiated and disgusted mind! With what Points and with what Spurs does it revive that Lust that is the most lulled asleep, the most languishing, nay and that which is no [Page 157]longer able! What extravagant A [...] tites! What strange Objects! VV [...] unknown Meats does it Offer! B [...] perceive I am not yet so knowing [...] it as thou art.

Alas! my poor Child, the kn [...] ­ledg thou aspirest to, cannot but [...] prejudicial to thee? The Pleasures [...] propose to our selves, ought to be bo [...] ­ded by the Laws, by Nature, and by P [...] ­dence, and all the Maximes which t [...]t Book is capable of instructing thee w [...] almost equally deviate from those th [...]e things. Take my word, all Extremities [...] dangerous; and there is a certain M [...] way, which we cannot vary from with­out falling into the Precipice. I [...] us Love, that is not prohibited; Seek [...] ­ter Pleasure, as long as it is Lawful; b [...] let us shun and avoid, what can only i [...] ­spire Debauchery, and let us not suff [...] our selves to be perswaded by an El [...] ­quence which only flatters us to our Ru [...] ­ine, and which only expresses it self well to hurry us the more easily to mischief.

Goodly, Goodly, VVith your fine Morals forsooth! I find you know how to Gild the Pill when you please! Not but that I yeild to your Reasons, and blame all those things which thou con­demnest, [Page 158]but I cannot forbear laughing to see thee Preach Reformation with so much heat, and that I hear thee speaking to the dumb, and to the blind: such as are our Sisters, who will receive no rules, but such as they propose to themselves.

You are in the right; and I own it is time ill bestowed, to labour the sup­pressing of Vice, and the excelling of Virtue, in the Corruption of the Age we live in; the Disease is too great, end the Contagion too Universal to be reme­dyed by plain VVords, and to be cu­red by a Potion and Preparation that can only act upon the mind. This is not my design, in the least, but I was on­ly very willing to let thee know, that I do not approve of the Libertinisme of those Persons, who never enjoy perfect Pleasures, unless they go seek them in the lessons of a Corrupted imagination, beyond the most inviolable bounds of Nature, and even into the most dissolute Licentiousness of pass'd Fables.

I am no enemy to Sports, and De­lights, nor am I wedded to that trouble­some Vertue which our Age is not ca­pable of. I know the most Noble soul cannot be Mistress of its passions, nor purged from other humane infirmities [Page 159]as long as it is wedded to our Body.

Ah I am pleas'd with this re­turn! and this reasonable indulgence may be perhaps allowed of. For what hurt can there be found in pleasure when it is well regulated? Something of neces­sity must be allowed to the temperament of the Body, and comply with the weak­ness of our minds, since we receive them so as Nature gave us them, and that it lies not in our Power to pick call and chuse 'em. We are not responsible for the freaks, fancies, propensities and in­clyations which it give us; if they are faults, 'tis it that is culpable and ought to be blamed. And men cannot be up­braided with the vices that are born with them, or which only proceed from their Birth.

Thou speakest reason, thou Dar­ling of my Heart, and I cannot express to thee the joy I feel, when that thy VVords make me see the Progress that thou hast made by my instructions. But let us no longer puzzle and weary our Brains, after the search and ripping up of other Peoples Crimes, let us bear with what we cannot reform, let us not touch nor glance upon Evils, that would undoubtedly discover the insufficiency of [Page 160]our remedies. Let us live for our selves, [...] without making our selves sick with [...] infirmities, let us Establish in our [...] that Spiritual Peace and Tran­ [...]y, which is the Principle of the joy [...] Beginning of the happyness which [...] reasonably desire.

For my part I am already in [...] peaceable enjoyment of the repose, [...] the quiet of Spirit, to which I [...] say I could only attain to by thy [...]. These are Obligations which [...] never sufficiently acknowledge; [...] new my Gratitude to that degree [...] lay in my power, since for all [...] thou hast taken to free me out [...] Error I was in, thou must content [...] with the Affection I have sworn [...], and it must serve thee instead of [...] reward.

Alas! My dear Child, what [...] thou offer me more to my Satis­faction? I prefer thy Caresses before all th [...] Treasures in the VVorld; one sole K [...] thine Charms me, and puts me in [...] [...]pture. But see, yonder is some­B [...] coming, let us part to hinder al [...] [...]icion they might have of our [...] and discourse. Buss me, my [...] Dove.

I will so, and it shall be a suck­ing Kiss, I mean after the mode of Flo­rence.

Ah thou Ravishest me with De­light! I am in a Transport! Ah 'tis too much for me to bear! Thou causest in me a Thousand Pleasures.

Well, this is sufficient for the pre­sent. Farewell Angelica, 'tis Sister Cor­nelia, she's a coming.

I see her, 'tis without doubt to bring me some message from my Lady Abbess. Adieu Agnes, Adieu my Heart, my Souls-Delight, my Love.