The Virginian

From a late English Publication.
Reader, if your whim or your necessities
should lead you to Madeira, go for my
sake to the nunnery of Santa Clara. It is
at the western end of Funchal, and you may
buy there the prettiest flowers for your
sweetheart's hair, and the most ingenious
toys in wax that are in the world. The
nuns sell them very cheap, and all they get
from you goes in real charity to themselves
or their pensioners. Perhaps also you may
see poor Maria, if she be not dead: if she
comes, speak to her very kindly, and give
my love to her;—but you do not know me
or poor Maria either.
Maria Clementina, the youngest child of
Pedro Agostinho, was born in Madeira.
Her parents had an unusually large family
and were laboring under some embarrassment from the unfavorable termination of
an important law suit. What unfortunate
event coincided with her birth, I know not; but Maria was disliked by her father and
mother from the first years of her infancy.
Her brothers neglected her in obedience
to their parents, and her sisters, who were
very ugly, hated her for her beauty. Everybody else in Funchal and the neighborhood loved her. and she had many offers of
marriage at thirteen years of age, which
the little maiden laughed at and forwarded
to her elder sisters. The more she was
courted abroad, the more was she persecuted at home. She was treated at length
like Cinderella, with no chance of a fairy to
help her. Amongst other arrangements
for the purchase of commissions for two
of his sons, and now giving portions to two
of his daughters Pedro Agostinho determined to sacrifice his best and sweetest
child Maria. At eighteen she was placed
as a novice in the nunnery, at nineteen she
took the veil and renounced the world forever. At this time she was the most beautiful girl in the island. and, what is remarkable in a Portuguese, of a fair complexion
with a brunette colour, blue eyes, and very
long and glossy brown hair.
A year after this, the Constitutional Government was established in Portugal, and
one of the first and wisest acts of the Cortes was to order the doors of all religious
houses to be thrown open. Santa Clara
was visited by friends and strangers, some
to see the church, some to see the garden
and some to see the nuns. amongst others
a Portuguese officer, at that time quartered
in Funchal, saw and fell in love with Maria; he was a handsome youth, of a good
family, and Maria returned his love with
an earnestness which perhaps had as much
a desire of liberty as female passion in it.
A nun is emancipated from her parents—
and the law declared the vow of celibacy
null and void. The marriage was determined on, her hair permitted to grow again her clothes prepared, and the wedding
day fixed. Maria fell ill, and the physician
enjoined perfect quiet for some time. The
wedding was finally postponed to another
day, and before that day arrived his Portuguese Majesty had dissolved his parliament
and, fearful lest Heaven should lose one
more of its daughters, had revoked the act
of the Cortes, and despatched an express
to notify as much to his subjects in Madeira. Maria rose from her bed of sickness to
return to her cell and her rosary: her
lengthening tresses were again mercilessly
shorn; the mob cap, the leathern cincture,
the serge gown were laid before her, and
some old Egyptians, who could not better
themselves elsewhere, bade her return thanks to God that she had so narrowly
escaped mixing again in the vanities of the
world.
On the 5th of January, a few hours before we sailed from Madeira, I walked with
a handsome and very agreeable English
woman to visit Santa Clara. I was very
anxious to see Maria, whose story I knew.
After a little hesitation on the part of two
or three venerable ladies, who first presented themselves at the gate house, Maria
was summoned. She came to us with
smiling countenance, and kissed my companion repeatedly. Her color was gone.
but she was still beautifully fair, and the
exquisite shape of her neck. and the noble
ness of her forehead were visible, under the
disadvantage of a dress as ungraceful as
was ever invented for the purpose of mortifying female vanity. She spoke her language with that pretty lisp which, I believe the critics of Lisbon pronounce to be a
vicious peculiarity in the natives of Madeira, but also with a correctness and an energy that indicated a powerful and ingenuous
mind. I took half of a large bunch of violets which I had in my hand and gave them
to my friend to present to her. Flowers
are a dialect of Portuguese which is soon
learnt. She took them, curtsied very
low, opened the folds of a muslin neck
handkerchief, and dropped them loose on
her snowy bosom.
The vesper bell sounded, the door was
closed between the nun and the world. but
she beckoned us to go into their church.
We did so; it is one of the finest in the
island, and very curiously lined with a sort
of porcelain; attached to its western end
is the chapel of the nuns, and a double iron
grating to enable them to hear and participate in the service of the mass. Maria
came with some flowers in her hand, which
she had been gathering in the garden. She
took four of them from the rest, and gave
them to me through the bars. "São im-
mortais," said she; they were some common everlastings.
"Que idade tem v. m. senhora?" said I.
"Vinte e um anos!"
"E se chama—" I added.
"Maria."
"E Clementina também!"
"Sim, nos tempos passados."
I leaned as close as I could and spoke a
few words in a low tone. which she did not
seem to understand. "Não entende," said
It
"Sim, sim," interrupted Maria, "entendendo bem ; diga."
"Esta v. m. feliz, senhora?"
The abbess, who was engaged with my
companion, turned her head, and Maria
answered with an air of gaiety, "O sim,
muito feliz."
I shook my head as in doubt. A minute
elapsed, and the abbess was occupied a-
gain. Maria put her hands through the
grating, took one of mine. and made me
feel a thin gold ring on her little finger. and
the, pressing my hand dearly, said, in a
accent which I still hear, "Não, não, não
tenho dor do coração."
The Service began , the old nuns croaked like frogs, and the young ones paced
up and down round and about, in strange
and fanciful figures, chanting as sweetly
as caged Canary birds. I gazed at them
for a long time with feelings that cannot
be told, and when it was time to go,
caught Maria's eye, and made her a slight
but earnest bow. She dropped a curtsey
which seemed a gentle adieu to her neighbour. raised a stole behind her service book to her mouth, held it, looked at it
and kissed it in token of an eternal farewell.
I wish to know whether there would have
been any harm in my accepting the captain's offer of his coxswain and gig's crew.
and running away with Maria Clementina.
The thing was perfectly easy as we all agreed at the table ; at the principal door
there was no grating, and in the court none
but the lame or decrepit persons there
men should stand at the outer gate and keep any guard till we had brought our
prize down to the Loo Rock ; in a quarter
of an hour we should be on board a British man of war, and even if they had taken
the alarm and fired from the battery. it is
perfectly well known that the Portuguese
government never allows more than one-
half of the due charge of powder to its
artillery, and so we might have laughed at
their impotent attempts. But what could
I have done with my nun? Her lover was
heaven knows where, and as to marrying
myself, although Maria was a very lovely girl, I happen to have my heart
quite full for the present. So God bless
thee again in very sorrow I say, God bless
thee infinitely, sweet and unfortunate Madeiran! If I were a Tory. as sure I am
not, I would pray the Cortes might get
on their legs again, if it were only to let
thee out of thy prison.
"How old are you?" "Twenty one."
"And your name is—"
"Maria"
"And Clementina as well ?" "Yes, in by
gone days."
She does not understand.
" Yes, yes, I understand well; speak."
"Are you happy, lady "
"O yes, very happy."
"No, no, no; I have the heart-ache."