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Original
Capítulo X
Explicación de algunas contradicciones que se hallan en el capítulo precedente
En los términos más obligatorios expresó su admiración la condesa, prendada del entendimiento de su nueva conocida. Por su parte dio también a ver Arabela lo gustosa que se hallaba y, después de los regulares cumplimientos, volvió a su estilo y suplicó a la condesa que la narrase sus aventuras. Esta dama significó una confusión que descompuso a nuestra heroína.
—Os confieso, señora, que lo singular de vuestra petición me ha forzado, a pesar mío, a meditar algunos instantes para convencerme de que una señorita soltera, llena, como lo estáis vos, de pundonor y de entendimiento, no podía hacerla sino ignorando la interpretación, generalmente recibida, del término de que se ha servido: la palabra aventura, entre nosotros, parece como que abraza la idea de libertinaje y no es permitido servirse de ella para expresar los acaecimientos naturales que se suelen verificar en una mujer de honor. En habiéndoos yo dicho –continuó la condesa, apretando amigablemente la mano a Arabela– que soy hija de unos padres respetables, que he tenido una educación bastante buena, que milord *** me obsequió con permiso de sus padres y de los míos, que me casé con él por afecto y que hemos vivido en la mayor unión, tendréis sabida la historia de las más de las mujeres bien nacidas.
—Habéis sido tan buena, señora –dijo Arabela ruborizada–, que me habéis perdonado mi indiscreción, pero debo, a efecto de justificarme, confesar que me tuve por autorizada para pedir aquella gracia por el uso que permitía, en otros tiempos, a las damas del más alto nacimiento contarse mutuamente sus historias.
—No hay cosa más mudable que el uso –añadió la condesa– y tanto, que lo que era honroso mil años ha, puede ser actualmente infamatorio. Una mujer, por ejemplo, del tiempo de que habláis, hubiera pasado por de poco mérito, si no hubiese sido dos o tres veces robada y en nuestros días semejantes sucesos depondrían contra su castidad151. Un héroe de entonces sería ahora un asesino y la misma acción que, en aquellas circunstancias, guiaba al trono, llevaría hoy al cadalso.
—Me parece, no obstante, señora, que el uso no puede mudar la naturaleza de las cosas y si la virtud ha caracterizado en todos tiempos a los héroes, un héroe de aquella edad también sería un héroe.
—Está bien que los efectos de la virtud y del vicio no muden, pues en todos tiempos la una ha merecido la estimación y el otro el menosprecio, pero las preocupaciones de ciertos países y los convenios particulares pudieron producir principios diferentes de los nuestros y graduar de gloriosas acciones que tenemos por viles. p. 216
—Verdad es eso –dijo Arabela algo conmovida–, pero vuestra intención no habrá sido probar que Orondates, Artajerjes, Juba y Artabano no fueron hombres virtuosos.
—No lo fueron ciertamente, si los juzgo por las leyes del cristianismo y por las ideas que tenemos de la humanidad, del honor y de la justicia.
—Pues ellos tenían un valor invencible, usaban de una generosidad sin límites y guardaban una fidelidad inviolable.
—Todo eso es así, pero fijemos con un hecho lo que se llamaba heroísmo. Orondates, uno de los mayores héroes, fue enviado por su padre al frente de un ejército para oponerse a los progresos de un monarca persa que invadió sus estados. Hizo prisioneras a la mujer e hijas de su enemigo y pudo, con tales rehenes, terminar una guerra perjudicial a su patria, pero, usando de una generosidad muy mal entendida, quiso más darlas libertad. Enamorado de una de aquellas princesas, se fue a vivir algunos años entre los enemigos de su padre, se casó con la princesa y pasó a derramar la sangre de sus vasallos, que le amaban mucho. Estas son las acciones que inmortalizan a dicho héroe, pero tomemos la balanza de la equidad y pesémoslas: en ellas veremos flaqueza, ferocidad, bajeza y, en fin, cosas enteramente contrarias al heroísmo que nuestra moral y nuestras costumbres aprueban. Es, pues, cierto –continuó la condesa sonriéndose–, que lo que entonces se llamó virtud, puede ser vicio ahora y también lo es que para formar un héroe de nuestros días es menester un hombre que no se parezca, de modo alguno, a Orondates.
El ademán candoroso de la condesa, el sonido de su voz, la fuerza de sus razonamientos y la honradez con que sostenía su opinión no pudieron dejar de causar gran efecto en el ánimo de Arabela, que estaba agitada, sorprehendida* y cortada, pero no convencida. El heroísmo novelesco estaba hondamente gravado* en su corazón y familiarizada con él desde la infancia de suerte que no veía virtud, fama, generosidad, honra ni valor, sino en las acciones de Juba, de Orondates, de Artajerjes, etc. Esta conversación originó en sus ideas un tumulto que se asomó a su fisionomía; conociolo así la condesa y temió haber perdido la confianza que quería ganar. Arabela gustó mucho de la conversación de aquella dama y la miró con la estimación respetuosa que imprime el verdadero mérito. Cuando la condesa se levantó para acabar la visita, Arabela la hizo muy vivas protestas de su inclinación afectuosa y los cumplimientos de ambas partes fueron tan sinceros cuanto finamente expresados. Quedó contentísimo Glanville, la salió acompañando y la rogó que continuase sus excelentes consejos, y la dio a conocer, con ingenio, cuán interesado era su corazón en el éxito de sus sabias lecciones. Prometiole la condesa cultivar la amistad de Arabela y, con una sonrisa muy agradable, aplaudió su elección.
No estaba ya Arabela en la sala cuando volvió Glanville, pero sí el barón.
—¡Ay, padre mío! –dijo en el enajenamiento de su gozo–. ¡Esta amable condesa conseguirá ciertamente mudar el modo de pensar de mi prima!
—Dígote, hijo mío, hablándote con sinceridad, que no sé cuál de las dos es más estrafalaria. ¿Qué dianches de cuentos nos ha embocado152?... Héroes, virtud, vicio, gloria y unas cosas allá, que ni Lucifer podría retener en la memoria. Tengo para mí que pondrá a Arabela más loca de lo que está, si es que esto cabe. p. 217
Glanville, algo desabrido de la defectuosa manera de juzgar de su padre, procuró despreocuparlo de su error y consiguió, al fin, que conviniera en que nadie podía comportarse con más astuta finura. La condesa, determinada a proseguir la curación emprendida, pensaba en los medios de presentar a Arabela entre las gentes, vestida como las demás mujeres y en ser su égida* contra las burlas de la malignidad, cuando, por desgracia de nuestra heroína, supo que su madre estaba muy enferma y que la urgía la precisión de acudir a su presencia. Mucho afligió a Arabela su partida, así como para Glanville fue un duro contratiempo. A la sazón recibió el barón cartas de Londres en que le decían que su persona era allí necesaria. Determinó llevarse consigo a su sobrina para que viera la capital y, pocos días después, se verificó la marcha. Mientras esta duró, no hubo más que algunas equivocaciones de parte de Arabela; y, para no cansar al lector con narracioncillas insustanciales, llevaremos a nuestra heroína a Londres, sin diferirlo más.
i Mantengo la forma del original, habitual a comienzos del siglo xix.
ii Mantengo la forma del original, habitual en aquella época (Aut).
iii égida] égide, pero corrijo de acuerdo con el significado de ‘escudo’, ‘protección’, ‘defensa’, ya registrado en el diccionario académico de 1822 (NTLLE).
151 Haldas en cinta: «remangarse la falda o la túnica» (DRAE).
152 ‘qué demonios de cuentos nos ha hecho creer’; embocar es «por metáfora […] hacer creer a uno lo que hay, proponiéndole por cierto lo que no es» (Aut).
Chapter VII
In which if the reader has not anticipated it, he will find an explanation of some
seeming inconsistencies* in the foregoing chapter.
The countess, charmed with the wit and good sense of Arabella, could not conceal her admiration, but expressed it in terms the most obliging imaginable. And Arabella, who was excessively delighted with her, returned the compliments she made her with the most respectful tenderness.
In the midst of these mutual civilities, Arabella, in the style of romance, entreated the countess to favour her with the recital of her adventures.
At the mention of this request, that lady conveyed so much confusion into her countenance that Arabella, extremely embarrassed by it, though she knew not why, thought it necessary to apologise for the disturbance she seemed to have occasioned in her.
“Pardon me, madam,” replied the countess, recovering herself, “if the uncommonness of your request made a moment’s reflection necessary [237] to convince me that a young lady of your sense and delicacy could mean no offence to decorum by making it. The word ‘adventures’ carries in it so free and licentious a sound in the apprehensions of people at this period of time that it can hardly with propriety be applied to those few and natural incidents which compose the history of a woman of honour. And when I tell you,” pursued she with a smile, “that I was born and christened, had a useful and proper education, received the addresses of my lord … through the recommendation of my parents, and married him with their consents and my own inclination, and that since we have lived in great harmony together, I have told you all the material passages of my life, which upon enquiry you will find differ very little from those of other women of the same rank, who have a moderate share of sense, prudence and virtue.”p. 299
“Since you have already, madam,” replied Arabella blushing, “excused me for the liberty I took with you, it will be unnecessary to tell you it was grounded upon the customs of ancient times, when ladies of the highest rank and sublimest virtue were often exposed to a variety of cruel adventures which they imparted in confidence to each other, when chance brought them together.”
“Custom,” said the countess, smiling, “changes the very nature of things, and what was honourable a thousand years ago may probably be looked upon as infamous now—A lady in the heroic age you speak of would not be thought to possess any great share of merit if she had not [238] been many times carried away by one or other of her insolent lovers, whereas a beauty in this could not pass through the hands of several different ravishers, without bringing an imputation on her chastity.”
“The same actions which made a man a hero in those times would constitute him a murderer in these—And the same steps which led him to a throne then would infallibly conduct him to a scaffold now.”
“But custom, madam,” said Arabella, “cannot possibly change the nature of virtue or vice. And since virtue is the chief characteristic of a hero, a hero in the last age will be a hero in this—”
“Though the natures of virtue or vice cannot be changed,” replied the countess, “yet they may be mistaken; and different principles, customs and education may probably change their names, if not their natures.”
“Sure, madam,” said Arabella a little moved, “you do not intend by this inference to prove Oroondates, Artaxerxes, Juba, Artaban, and the other heroes of antiquity, bad men?”
“Judging them by the rules of Christianity, and our present notions of honour, justice and humanity, they certainly are,” replied the countess.
“Did they not possess all the necessary qualifications of heroes, madam,” said Arabella, “and each in a superlative degree?—Was not their valour invincible, their generosity unbounded and their fidelity inviolable?”p. 300
“It cannot be denied,” said the countess, “but that their valour was invincible; and many thousand men less courageous than themselves [239] felt the fatal effects of that invincible valour, which was perpetually seeking after occasions to exert itself. Oroondates gave many extraordinary proofs of that unbounded generosity so natural to the heroes of his time. This prince, being sent by the king his father at the head of an army to oppose the Persian monarch, who had unjustly invaded his dominions, and was destroying the lives and properties of his subjects, having taken the wives and daughters of his enemy prisoners, had by these means an opportunity to put a period to a war so destructive to his country. Yet out of a generosity truly heroic, he released them immediately without any conditions; and falling in love with one of those princesses, secretly quitted his father’s court, resided several years in that of the enemy of his father and country, engaged himself to his daughter, and when the war broke out again between the two kings, fought furiously against an army in which the king his father was in person, and shed the blood of his future subjects without remorse; though each of those subjects, we are told, would have sacrificed his life to save that of their prince, so much was he beloved. Such are the actions which immortalise the heroes of romance, and are by the authors of those books styled glorious, godlike and divine. Yet judging of them as Christians, we shall find them impious and base, and directly opposite to our present notions of moral and relative duties.”
“It is certain therefore, madam,” added the countess with a smile, “that what was virtue in [240] those days is vice in ours; and to form a hero according to our notions of them at present, it is necessary to give him qualities very different from Oroondates.”
The secret charm in the countenance, voice, and manner of the countess, joined to the force of her reasoning, could not fail of making some impression on the mind of Arabella; but it was such an impression as came far short of conviction. She was surprised, embarrassed, perplexed, but not convinced. Heroism, romantic heroism, was deeply rooted in her heart; it was her habit of thinking, a principle imbibed* from education. She could not separate her ideas of glory, virtue, courage, generosity and honour from the false representations of them in the actions of Oroondates, Juba, Artaxerxes, and the rest of the imaginary heroes. The countess’s discourse had raised a kind of tumult in her thoughts, which gave an air of perplexity to her lovely face and made that lady apprehensive she had gone too far and lost that ground in her esteem, which she had endeavoured to acquire by a conformity to some of her notions and language. In this, however, she was mistaken: Arabella felt a tenderness for her that had already the force of a long contracted friendship, and an esteem little less than veneration.
When the countess took leave, the professions of Arabella, though delivered in the language of romance, were very sincere and affecting, and were returned with an equal degree of tenderness by the countess, who had conceived a more than ordinary affection for her.
[241] Mr. Glanville, who could have almost worshipped the countess for the generous design he saw she had entertained, took an opportunity as he handed her to her chair* to entreat in a manner as earnest as polite that she would continue the happiness of her acquaintance to his cousin, which, with a smile of mingled dignity and sweetness, she assured him of.p. 301
Chapter VIII
Which concludes book the eighth.
Mr. Glanville at his return to the dining room, finding Arabella retired, told his father in a rapture of joy that the charming countess would certainly make a convert of Lady Bella.
“Methinks,” said the baronet, “she has as strange whims in her head as my niece. Ad’s heart,* what a deal of stuff did she talk about! A parcel of heroes as she calls them, with confounded hard names—In my mind, she is more likely to make Lady Bella worse than better.”
Mr. Glanville, a little vexed at his father’s misapprehension, endeavoured with as much delicacy as he could to set him right with regard to the countess, so that he brought him at last to confess she managed the thing very well.
The countess, who had resolved to take Arabella openly into her protection, was thinking on means to engage her to appear at the [242] assembly, whither she proposed to accompany her in a modern dress. But her good intentions towards our lovely heroine were suspended by the account she received of her mother’s indisposition, which commanded her immediate attendance on her at her seat in ….
Her sudden departure gave Arabella an extreme uneasiness, and proved a cruel disappointment to Mr. Glanville, who had founded all his hopes of her recovery on the conversation of that lady.
Sir Charles, having affairs that required his presence in London, proposed to his niece the leaving Bath in a few days, to which she consented; and accordingly they set out for London in Arabella’s coach and six, attended by several servants on horseback, her women having been sent away before in the stage.*
Nothing very remarkable happened during this journey, so we shall not trouble our readers with several small mistakes of Arabella’s, such as her supposing a neat country girl who was riding behind a man to be some lady or princess in disguise, forced away by a lover she hated, and entreating Mr. Glanville to attempt her rescue, which occasioned some little debate between her and Sir Charles, who could not be persuaded to believe it was as she said, and forbade his son to meddle in other people’s affairs. Several of these sorts of mistakes, as we said before, we omit, and will therefore, if our reader pleases, bring our heroine without further delay to London.
THE END OF THE EIGHTH BOOK
iinconsistencies] inconsistences 1752 (1st). This variant appears in the title of this chapter in the contents.
iiimbibed] fig. To assimilate (knowledge or ideas).
iiichair] A vehicle drawn by one horse.
ivAd’s heart] obs. God’s heart.
vstage] Short for stagecoach, that is, a coach for the conveyance of passengers or parcels along a regular route that runs daily or on certain days.