Chapter VII: Epilogue: to the Spartan Dame

By _Mrs._ Haywood.

_LONDON_:
Printed for W. CHETWOOD, J. WOODMAN, D.
BROWN, and S. CHAPMAN.

LOVE in EXCESS:

OR, THE

FATAL ENQUIRY.

The Third and Last PART.

Tho’ Count _D’elmont_ never had any tenderness for _Alovisa_, and her Extravagance of Rage and Jealousie, join’d to his Passion for _Melliora_, had every Day abated it, yet the manner of her Death was too great a shock to the sweetness of his Disposition, to be easily worn off; he cou’d not remember her Uneasiness, without reflecting that it sprung only from her too violent Affection for him; and tho’ there was no possibility of living happily with her, when he consider’d that she died, not only for him, but by his Hand, his Compassion for the Cause, and Horror for the unwish’d, as well as undesign’d Event, drew Lamentations from him, more sincere, perhaps, than one of those Husbands, who call themselves very loving ones, wou’d make.

To alleviate the troubles of his Mind, he had endeavour’d all he cou’d, to persuade _Melliora_ to continue in his House; but that afflicted Lady was not to be prevail’d upon, she look’d on her self, as in a manner, accessary to _Alovisa_’s Death, and thought the least she ow’d to her Reputation was to see the _Count_ no more, and tho’ in the forming this Resolution, she felt Torments unconceivable, yet the strength of her Virtue enabled her to keep it, and she return’d to the Monastery, where she had been Educated, carrying with her nothing of that Peace of Mind with which she left it.

Not many Days pass’d between her Departure, and the _Count_’s; he took his way towards _Italy_, by the Persuasions of his Brother, who, since he found him bent to Travel, hop’d that Garden of the World might produce something to divert his Sorrows; he took but two Servants with him, and those rather for conveniency than State: _Ambition_, once his darling Passion, was now wholly extinguish’d in him by these Misfortunes, and he no longer thought of making a Figure in the World; but his _Love_ nothing cou’d abate, and ’tis to be believ’d that the violence of that wou’d have driven him to the use of some fatal Remedy, if the _Chevalier Brillian_, to whom he left the Care of _Melliora_’s and her Brother’s Fortune as well as his own, had not, tho’ with much difficulty, obtain’d a Promise from her, of conversing with him by Letters.

This was all he had to keep hope alive, and indeed it was no inconsiderable Consolation, for she that allows a Correspondence of that Kind with a Man that has any Interest in her Heart, can never persuade herself, while she does so, to make him become indifferent to her. When we give our selves the liberty of even talking of the Person we have once lov’d, and find the least pleasure in that Discourse, ’tis ridiculous to imagine we are free from that Passion, without which, the mention of it would be but insipid to our Ears, and the remembrance to our Minds, tho’ our Words are never so Cold, they are the Effects of a secret Fire, which burns not with less Strength for not being Dilated. The _Count_ had too much Experience of all the Walks and Turns of Passion to be ignorant of this, if _Melliora_ had endeavour’d to disguise her Sentiments, but she went not so far, she thought it a sufficient vindication of her Virtue, to withold the rewarding of his Love, without feigning a coldness to which she was a stranger, and he had the satisfaction to observe a tenderness in her Stile, which assur’d him, that her _Heart_ was unalterably his, and very much strengthen’d his Hopes, that one Day her Person might be so too, when time had a little effac’d the Memory of those Circumstances, which had obliged her to put this constraint on her Inclinations.

He wrote to her from every Post-Town, and waited till he receiv’d her Answer, by this means his Journey was extreamly tedious, but no Adventures of any moment, falling in his way ’till he came to _Rome_, I shall not trouble my Readers with a recital of particulars which cou’d be no way Entertaining.

But, how strangely do they deceive themselves, who fancy that they are Lovers, yet on every little turn of Fortune, or Change of Circumstance, are agitated, with any Vehemence, by Cares of a far different Nature? _Love_ is too jealous, too arbitrary a Monarch to suffer any other Passion to equalize himself in that Heart where he has fix’d his Throne. When once enter’d, he becomes the whole Business of our Lives, we think----we Dream of nothing else, nor have a Wish not inspir’d by him: Those who have the Power to apply themselves so seriously to any other Consideration as to forget him, tho’ but for a Moment, are but Lovers in Conceit, and have entertain’d Desire but as an agreeable Amusement, which when attended with any Inconvenience, they may without much difficulty shake off. Such a sort of Passion may be properly enough call’d _Liking_, but falls widely short of _Love_. _Love_, is what we can neither resist, expel, nor even alleviate, if we should never so vigorously attempt it; and tho’ some have boasted, _Thus far will I yield and no farther_, they have been convinc’d of the Vanity of forming such Resolutions by the impossibility of keeping them. _Liking_ is a flashy Flame, which is to be kept alive only by ease and delight. _Love_, needs not this fewel to maintain its Fire, it survives in Absence, and disappointments, it endures, unchill’d, the wintry Blasts of cold Indifference and Neglect, and continues its Blaze, even in a storm of Hatred and Ingratitude, and Reason, Pride, or a just sensibility of conscious Worth, in vain oppose it. _Liking_, plays gaily round, feeds on the Sweets in gross, but is wholly insensible of the Thorns which guard the nicer, and more refin’d Delicacies of Desire, and can consequently give neither Pain, nor Pleasure in any superlative degree. _Love_ creates intollerable Torments! Unspeakable Joys! Raises us to the highest Heaven of Happiness, or sinks us to the lowest Hell of Misery.

Count _D’elmont_ experienc’d the Truth of this Assertion; for neither his just concern for the manner of _Alovisa_’s Death cou’d curb the Exuberance of his Joy, when he consider’d himself belov’d by _Melliora_, nor any Diversion of which _Rome_ afforded great Variety, be able to make him support being absent from her with Moderation. There are I believe, but few modern Lovers, how Passionate and constant soever they pretend to be, who wou’d not in the _Count_’s Circumstances have found some matter of Consolation; but he seem’d wholly dead to Gaiety. In vain, all the _Roman_ Nobility courted his acquaintance; in vain the Ladies made use of their utmost Artifice to engage him: He prefer’d a solitary Walk, a lonely Shade, or the Bank of some purling Stream, where he undisturb’d might contemplate on his belov’d _Melliora_, to all the noisy Pleasures of the Court, or the endearments of the inviting Fair. In fine, he shun’d as much as possible all Conversation with the Men, or Correspondence with the Women; returning all their _Billet-Doux_, of which scarce a Day past, without his receiving some, unanswer’d.

This manner of Behaviour in a little time deliver’d him from the Persecutions of the Discreet; but having receiv’d one Letter which he had us’d as he had done the rest, it was immediately seconded by another; both which contain’d as follows: