Mart. All will not do, ten thousand Masses will not deliver you.
Jourd. Was ever such a miserable Wretch!
Mart. Thou hast Sins enough to damn thy whole Family. Monstrous Impiety! to lift up the Hand of Justice against the Church.
Jourd. Oh speak some Comfort to me: will no Penance expiate my Crime?
Mart. It is too grievous for a single Penance, go settle your Estate on the Church, and send your Daughter to a Nunnery, her Prayers will avail more than yours: Heaven hears the young and innocent with Pleasure. I will, my self, say four Masses a-day for you; and all these, I hope, will purchase your Forgiveness, at least your Stay in Purgatory will be short.
Jourd. My Daughter! She is to be married to-morrow, and I shall never prevail on her.
Mart. You must force her; your all depends on it.
Jourd. But I have already sworn I will not force her.
Mart. The Church absolves you from that Oath, and it were now Impiety to keep it. Go, lose not a Moment, see her entered with the utmost Expedition; she may put it out of your Power.
Jourd. What a poor miserable Wretch am I?
SCENE X.
Martin solus.
Thou art a miserable Wretch indeed! And it is on such miserable Wretches depends our Power: that Superstition which tears thy Bowels, feeds ours. This Nunnery is a Master-piece, let me but once shut up my dear Isabel from every other Man, and the Warmth of her Constitution may be my very powerful Friend. How far am I got already from the very Brink of Despair, by the Despair of this old Fool. Superstition, I adore thee,
Thou handle to the cheated Layman’s Mind,
By which in Fetters Priestcraft leads Mankind.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Jourdain, Isabel.
Jourdain.
Have you no Compassion for your Father, for him that gave you being? Could you bear to hear me howl in Purgatory?
Isa. Lud! Pappa! Do you think your putting me into Purgatory in this World, will save you from Purgatory in the next? If you have any Sins you must repent of them your self; for I give you my Word, I have enough to do to repent of my own.
Jourd. You will soon wipe off that Score, and will be then in a Place where you cannot contract a new one.
Isa. Indeed, Sir, to shut a Woman out from Sin is not so easy. But, dear Sir, how can it enter into your Head, that my Penance can be acceptable for your Sin? Take my Word, one Week’s fasting will be of more Service to you than this long Fast you would enjoin me.
Jourd. Alas! Child, if fasting would do, I am sure I have not been wanting to my Duty: I have fasted till I am almost worn away to nothing; I have almost fasted my self into Purgatory, while I was fasting my self out of it.
Isa. But whence comes all this Apprehension of your Danger?
Jourd. Whence should it come, but from the Church.
Isa. Oh! Sir, I have thought of the most lucky thing. You know, my Cousin Beatrice is just going into a Nunnery, and she will pray for you as much as you would have her.
Jourd. Trifle not with so serious a Concern. No Prayers but yours will ever do me good.
Isa. Then you shall have them any where but in a Nunnery.
Jourd. They must be there too.
Isa. That will be impossible: for if I was there, instead of praying you out of Purgatory, my Prayers would be all bent to pray my self out of the Nunnery again.
SCENE II.
Old Laroon, Jourdain, Isabel.
Old. Lar. A Dog, a Villain, put off my Son’s Match. Mr. Jourdain, your Servant; will you suffer a Rogue of a Jesuit to defer your Daughter’s Marriage a whole Week?
Jourd. I am sorry, Mr. Laroon, for the Disappointment, but her Marriage will be deferred longer than that.
Old. Lar. How, Sir!
Jourd. She is intended for another Marriage, Sir, a much better Match.
Old. Lar. A much better Match! —
Isa. Yes, Sir, I am to be sent to a Nunnery, to pray my Father out of Purgatory.
Old Lar. Oh! Ho! — We’ll make that Matter very easy: he shall have no Fear of Purgatory; for I’ll send him to the Devil this Moment. Come, Sir, draw, draw —
Jourd. Draw what, Sir!
Old Lar. Draw your Sword, Sir.
Jourd. Alas, Sir, I have long since done with Swords, I have broke my Sword long since.
Old Lar. Then I shall break your Head, you old Rogue.
Jourd. Heyday —— you are mad; what’s the Matter?
Old Lar. Oh! no matter, no matter, you have used me ill, and you are a Son of a Whore, that’s all.
Jourd. I wou’d not, Mr. Laroon, have my Conscience accuse me of using you ill: I would not have preferred any earthly Match to your Son, but if Heaven requires her —
Old Lar. I shall run mad.
Jourd. I hope my Daughter has Grace enough to make an Atonement for her Father’s Sins.
Old Lar. And so, you wou’d atone for all your former Rogueries, by a greater, by perverting the Design of Nature! Was this Girl intended for praying! Hearkee, old Gentleman, let the young Couple together, and they’ll sacrifice their first Fruits to the Church.
Jourd. It is impossible.
Old Lar. Well, Sir, then I shall attempt to persuade you no longer; so, Sir, I desire you would fetch your Sword.
SCENE III.
Young Laroon in a Friar’s Habit, Old Laroon, Jourdain.
Y. Lar. Let Peace be in this House —— Where is the Sinner Jourdain?
Jourd. Here is the miserable Wretch.
Old Lar. Death and the Devil, another Priest.
Y. Lar. Then know I am thy Friend, and am come to save thee from Destruction.
Old Lar. That’s likely enough.
Y. Lar. St. Francis the Patron of our Order hath sent me on this Journey, to caution thee, that thou may not suffer thy sinful Daughter to profane the holy Veil. Such was it seems thy Purpose; but the Perdition that would have attended it I dread to think on. Rejoice therefore, and prostrate thy self at the Shrine of a Saint, who has not only sent thee this Caution, but does himself intercede for all thy Sins.
Old Lar. Agad! and St. Francis is a very honest Fellow, and thou art the first Priest that ever I lik’d in my whole Life.
Jourd. St. Francis honours me too much. I shall try to deserve the Favour of that Saint. But wherefore is my Daughter denied the holy Veil?
Y. Lar. Your Daughter, I am concerned to say it, is now with Child by a young Gentleman, one Mr. Laroon.
Jourd. Oh Heavens!
Old Lar. What’s that you say, Sir, because I thought I heard somewhat of a damn’d Lye come out of your Mouth.
Y. Lar. Sir, it is St. Francis speaks within me, and he cannot be mistaken.
Old Lar. I can tell you, Sir, if that young Gentleman had heard you, he would certainly have thrashed St. Francis out of you.
Y. Lar. Sir, you have nothing to do now, but to prepare the Match with the utmost Expedition.
Old Lar. This St. Francis must lye, or the Boy would not be so eager upon the Affair: No one is ever eager to sign Articles when they have entered the Town. —— Well, Master Jourdain, if the young Dog has tripped up your Daughter’s Heels in an unlawful way, as St. Francis says, why, he shall make her amends and — and do it in a lawful one. So I’ll go see for my Son, while you go and comfort the poor Chicken that is pining for fear of a Nunnery. —— Odsheart, it would be very hard indeed, when a Girl has once had her Belly full, that she must fast all her Life afterwards.
Y. Lar. I have deliver’d my Commission and shall now return to my Convent —— Farewel, and return Thanks to St. Francis.
Jourd. Oh! St. Francis! St. Francis! What a merciful Saint art thou!
SCENE IV. Another Apartment.
Martin, Isabel.
Mart. Indeed, Child, there are Pleasures in a retired Life, which you are entirely ignorant of. Nay, there are Indulgencies granted to People in that State, which would be sinful out of it. And, perhaps, the same Liberties are permitted them with one Person,
which are deny’d them with another. Come, put on a chearful Countenance, you don’t know what you are design’d for.
Isa. No, but I know what I am not design’d for.
Mart. Let me feel your Pulse.
Isa. You are a Physician as well as a Priest, I suppose.
Mart. Have you never any odd Dreams?
Isa. No.
Mart. Do you never find any strange Emotions?
Isa. No. None but what I believe are very natural.
Mart. Strange that! —— Did you never see me in your Sleep?
Isa. I never dream of a Priest, I assure you.
Mart. Nay, nay; be candid, confess, perhaps, there may be nothing so sinful in it. We cannot help what we are design’d for. We are only passive, and the Sin lies not at our Doors. While you are only passive, I’ll answer for your Sins.
Isa. What do you mean?
Mart. That you must not yet know — Great things are design’d for you, very great things are designed for you.
Isa. (Hum! I begin to guess what is design’d for me.)
[Aside.
Mart. Those Eyes have a Fire in them that scarce seems mortal. Come hither —— give me a Kiss —— ha! there is a Sweetness in that Breath like what I’ve read of Ambrosia. That Bosom heaves like those of Priestesses of old, when big with Inspiration.
Isa. (Haity-tity —— Are you thereabouts good Father?)
[Aside.
Mart. Let me embrace thee, my dear Daughter, let me give thee Joy of such Promotion, such Happiness as will attend you.
Isa. I’ll try this reverend Gentleman his own way.
[Aside.
Mart. You must resign your self up to my Will, you must be passive in all things.
Isa. Oh! let me thus beg Pardon, on my Knees, for an Offence which Modesty occasioned.
Mart. Ha! speak.
Isa. Oh! I see it is in vain to hide my Secrets from you. What need have I to confess what you already know?
Mart. Confession was intended for the sake of the Penitent, not the Confessor: for to the Church all things are revealed.
Isa. Oh! then I had a Dream —— I dreamt —— I dreamt —— oh! I can never tell you what I dreamt.
Mart. Horrible!
Isa. I dreamt — I dreamt — I dreamt ——
Mart. Oh! the Strength of Sin!
Isa. I dreamt I was brought to bed of the Pope.
Mart. The very Happiness I meant, let me embrace you, let me kiss you, my dear Daughter: Henceforth you may defy Purgatory — the Mother of a Pope was never there.
Isa. But how can that be, when I am to be a Nun, Father?
Mart. Leave the Means to me. Learn only to be passive, the Church will work the rest. A Pope is always the Son of a Nun. Go you to your Chamber, wash your self, then pray devoutly, shut every Ray of Light out, leave open the Door and expect the Consequence.
Isa. Father, I shall be obedient — oh! the Villain!
Mart. Be passive and be happy.
SCENE V.
Jourdain, Martin, Isabel.
Mart. Ha! Why this unseasonable Interruption, while your Daughter is at Confession?
Jourd. Oh, Father, I have brought you News will make you happy, will rejoice your poor Heart. My Daughter is redeemed.
Mart. Out of Purgatory —— vain Man! dost thou think to inform the Church? —
Jourd. I suppose St. Francis has been beforehand with me. Indeed I should have imagined that before: for we seldom hear any thing from the Saints, but thro’ the Mouth of a Priest.
Mart. (What does he mean?)
[Aside.
Jourd. Well, Daughter, the Thoughts of a Nunnery now give you no Uneasiness.
Mart. No, no, she is perfectly reconciled to it, and I am confident, would not quit the Nunnery for the Bed of a Prince.
Jourd. Ha! would not quit the Nunnery, Heaven forbid.
Mart. How! you are not mad!
Jourd. Unless with Joy. I thought you had known that I have received an Order from St. Francis, to marry my Daughter immediately.
Mart. Oh! Folly! to marry her immediately; why ay, to marry her to the Church, St. Francis means. You see into what Errors the Laity run, when they go without the Leading-strings of the Church, and would interpret for themselves what they know nothing of.
Isa. I’ll take this Opportunity to steal off, and communicate a Design of mine to young Laroon, which may draw this Priest into a Snare he little dreams of.
Jourd. But I cannot see how that should be St. Francis’s Meaning: For tho’ my Daughter may be married to the Church in a figurative Sense, sure, she cannot be with Child by the Church in a literal one.
Mart. I see the Business now, unhappy Man! I was in Hopes to have prevented this —— Exorcizo te, Exorcizo te, Satan. Ton Dapamibominos prosephe podas ocus Achilleus.
Jourd. Bless us, what mean you?
Mart. You are possessed; the Devil has taken possession of you; he is now within you, I saw him just now look out of your Eyes.
Jourd. O miserable Wretch that I am!
SCENE VI.
Old Laroon, Young Laroon, Jourdain, Martin.
Old Lar. Mr. Jourdain, your Servant. Where is my Daughter-in-law: I’ll warrant she will easily forgive one Day’s forwarding the Match. Odso, it’s an Error of the right side.
Jourd. Talk not to me of my Daughter, I am possessed, I am possessed.
Old Lar. Possessed — what the Devil are you possessed with.
Jourd. I am possessed with the Devil.
Old Lar. You are possessed with a Priest, and that’s worse. Come, let’s have the Wedding, and at Night, we’ll drive the Devil out of you with a Fidle. The Devil is a great Lover of Musick. I have known half a Dozen Devils dance out of a Man’s Mouth at the tuning a Violin, then present the Company with a Hornpipe, and so dance a Jig through the Keyhole.
Mart. Thou art the Devil’s Son; for he is the Father of Lyars.
Old Lar. Thou art the Devil’s Footman, and wearest his proper Livery.
Jourd. Fy upon you, Mr. Laroon; Fy upon you.
Mart. Mr. Laroon! O surprizing Effect of Possession —— Here is no Body.
Jourd. Can I not believe my Eyes?
Mart. Can you not! no — you are to believe mine. The Eyes of the Laity may err, the Eyes of a Priest cannot.
Jourd. And do I not see Mr. Laroon and his Son!
Mart. You see neither. It is the Spirit within you that represents to your Eyes and Ears what Objects it pleases.
Jourd. Oh! miserable Wretch.
Old Lar. Agad I’ll try whether I am no Body or no, and whether I cannot make this Priest sensible that I am somebody.
Y. Lar. For Heaven’s sake, Sir, consider the Consequence.
Old Lar. Consequence! Do you think I’ll suffer a Rascal to prove me nothing at all to my Face?
Jourd. And is it possible all this is a Vision?
Mart. Retire to Rest —— while I by the Force and Battery of Prayer, expel this dreadful Guest.
Jourd. Oh! what a miserable Wretch am I!
SCENE VII.
Old Laroon, Young Laroon, Martin.
Old Lar. Hearkee, Sir, will you please to tell me what this great Impudence of yours means? and what you would intend by Annihilating me.
Mart. It were happy for such Sinners that they cou’d be annihilated: It were worth you two hundred thousand Masses, take my Word for it.
Old Lar. It were happy for such Rascals as you, Sirrah, that all Honesty was annihilated.
Y. Lar. But pray, Father, what Reasons have you for preventing my Match with Isabel?
Mart. Reasons, young Gentleman, that are not proper for your Ears. Isabel is intended for a better Bridegroom than you.
Old Lar. How, Sirrah! how! Do you disparage my Son? Do you run down my Boy? Hearkee, either make up Affairs between them immediately, exert thy self in thy proper office and hold the Door, or I’ll blow up thy Convent; I’ll burn your Garrison, and disband such a Set of black Locusts as shall rob and pillage all Toulo
n.
Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding Page 293