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LETTER V.

HELOISE to ABELARD.

Heloife had been dangerously ill at the Convent of the Paraclete: Immediately upon ber Recovery, he wrote this Letter to Abelard. She feems now to have difengaged herself from him, and to have refolved to think of Nothing but Repentance; yet discovers fome Emotions, which make it doubtful whether Devotion had entirely triumphed over her Paffion.

D

EAR Abelard, you expect perhaps that
I fhould accufe you of Negligence.
You have not answered my last Let-

ter, and Thanks to Heaven in the Condition I now am, 'tis a Happiness to me that you shew so much Infenfibility for the fatal Paffion which had engaged me to you; at last, Abelard, you have loft Heloife for ever; Notwithstanding all the Oaths I made to think of Nothing but you only and to be entertained with Nothing but you, I have banished you from my Thoughts, I have forgot you. Thou charming Idea of a Lover I once adored, thou wilt no more be my Happiness! Dear Image of Abelard! thou wilt no more follow me

every

every where, I will no more remember thee. O celebrated Merit of a Man, who in spite of his Enemies, is the Wonder of his Age! O enchanting Pleasures to which Helaife entirely refigned herself, you, you have been my Tormentors, I confefs, Abelard, without a Blufh, my Infidelity: Let my Inconftancy teach the World that there is no depend-ing upon the Promifes of Women; they are all fubject to change. This troubles you, Abelard; this News without Doubt furprizes you; you could never imagine Heloife fhould be inconftant. She was prejudiced by fo flrong an Inclination to you, that you cannot conceive how Time could alter it. But be undeceived, I am going to discover to you my Falfenefs, though inftead of reproaching me, I perfuade myfelf you will fhed Tears of Joy. When I fhall have told you what Rival hath ravished my Heart from you, you will praife my Inconftancy, and will pray this Rival to fix it: By this you may judge that 'tis God alone that takes Heloife from you. Yes, my dear Abelard, he gives my Mind that Tranquillity which a quick Remembrance of our Misfortunes would not fuffer me to enjoy. Juft Heaven! What other Rival could take me from you? Could you imagine it poffible for any Mortal to blot you from my Heart? Could you think me guilty of facrificing the virtuous and learned Abelard to any other but to God? No, I believe you have done me Justice in this Point. I quefion not but you are impatient to know what

Means

Means God ufed to accomplish fo great an End; I will tell you, and wonder at the fecret Ways of Providence. Some few Days after you sent me your last Letter I fell dangerously ill, the Phyficians gave me over; and I expected certain Death. Then it was, that my Paffion, which always before feemed innocent, appeared criminal to me. My Memory represented faithfully to me all the past Actions of my Life, and I confefs to you, my Love was the only Pain I felt. Death, which till then I had always confidered as at a Distance, now prefented itself to me fuch as it appears to Sinners. I began to dread the Wrath of God, now I was going to experience it; and I repented I had made no better Ufe of his Grace. Those tender Letters I have wrote to you, and those paffionate Converfations I have had with you, gave me as much Pain now, as they formerly did Pleafure. Ah! miferable Heloife, faid I, if it is a Crime to give onefelf up to fuch foft Tranfports; and if after this Life is ended, Punishment certainly follows them, why didst thou not refift fo dangerous an Inclination? Think on the Tortures that are prepared for thee, confider with Terror that Store of Torments, and recollect at the fame Time thofe Pleasures which thy deluded Soul thought fo entrancing. Ah, purfued I, doft thou not almoft defpair for having rioted in fuch falfe Pleafures? In fhort, Abelard, imagine all the Remorfe of Mind 1 fuf

fered,

fered, and you will not be aftonished at my Change.

Solitude is infupportable to a Mind which is not easy, its Troubles increase in the Midft of Silence, and Retirement heightens them. Since I have been fhut up within thefe Walls, I have done nothing but weep for our Misfortunes. This Cloifter has refounded with my Cries, and like a Wretch condemned to eternal Slavery, I have worn out my Days in Grief and Sighing. Inftead of fulfilling God's merciful Defign upon me, I have offended him; I have looked upon this facred Refuge, like a frightful Prison, and have borne with Unwillingnefs the Yoke of the Lord. Inftead of fanctifying myself by a Life of Penitence, I have confirmed my Reprobation. What a fatal Wandring! But, Abelard, I have torn off the Bandage which blinded me, and if I dare rely upon the Emotions which I have felt, I have made myself worthy of your Efteem. You are no more that amorous Abelard, who, to gain a private Converfation with me by Night, ufed inceffantly to contrive new Ways to deceive the Vigilance of our Obfervers. The Misfortune which happened to you after so many happy Moments gave you a Horror for Vice, and you inftantly confecrated the Rest of your Days to Virtue, and feemed to fubmit to this Neceffity willingly. I indeed, more tender than you, and more fenfible of foft Pleasures, bore this Misfortune with extreme Impatience; you have heard my Exclamati

ons

ons against your Enemies. You have seen my whole Resentment in thofe Letters I wrote to you. 'Twas this without Doubt which deprived me of the Esteem of my Abelard: You were alarmed at my Tranfports, and if you will confefs the Truth, you perhaps defpaired of my Salvation. You could not foresee that Heloife would conquer fo reigning a Paffion; but you have been deceived, Abelard; my Weakness, when fupported by Grace, hath not hindered me from cbtaining a compleat Victory. Reftore me then to your good Opinion; your own Piety ought to folicit you to this.

But what fecret Trouble rifes in my Soul, what unthought-of Motion oppofes the Refolution I have formed of Sighing no more for Abelard? Juft Heaven! Have I not yet triumphed over my Love? Unhappy Heloife! as long as thou drawest a Breath it is decreed thou must love Abelard ; weep, unfortunate Wretch that thou art, thou never hadft a more juft Occafion. Now I ought to die with Grief; Grace had overtaken me, and I had promised to be faithful to it, but I now perjure myfelf, and facrifice even Grace to Abelard. This facrilegious Sacrifice fills up the Measure of my Iniquities. After this can I hope God fhould open to me the Treasures of his Mercy? Have I not tired out his Forgiveness? I began to offend him from the Moment I first faw Abelard; an unhappy Sympathy engaged us both in a criminal Commerce; and God raised us up an Enemy to feparate

us.

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