_In which our heroine justifies her own notions by some very
illustrious examples._
Mr. Selvin and Mr. Tinsel, who had listened attentively to this
discourse of Arabella, took leave as soon as it was ended, and went
away with very different opinions of her;--
Mr. Tinsel declaring she was a fool, and had no knowledge of the world;
and Mr. Selvin convinced she was a wit, and very learned in antiquity.
Certainly, said Mr. Selvin, in support of his opinion, the lady has
great judgment; has been capable of prodigious application, as is
apparent by her extensive reading: then her memory is quite miraculous.
I protest, I am quite charmed with her; I never met with such a woman
in my life.
Her cousin, in my opinion, replied Mr. Tinsel, is infinitely beyond her
in every merit, but beauty. How sprightly and free her conversation!
What a thorough knowledge of the world! So true a taste for polite
amusements, and a fund of spirits that sets vapours and spleen at
defiance!
This speech bringing on a comparison between the ladies, the champions
for each grew so warm in the dispute, that they had like to have
quarrelled. However, by the interposition of some other gentlemen who
were with them, they parted tolerable friends that night, and renewed
their visits to Sir Charles in the morning.
They found only Miss Glanville with her father and brother. Arabella
generally spent the mornings in her own chamber, where reading and the
labours of the toilet employed her time till dinner: though it must be
confessed, to her honour, that the latter engrossed but a very small
part of it.
Miss Glanville, with whom the beau had a long conversation at one of
the windows, in which he recounted his dispute with Mr. Selvin, and the
danger he ran of being pinked in a duel (that was his phrase) for her
sake, at last proposed a walk; to which she consented, and engaged to
prevail upon Arabella to accompany them.
That lady at first positively refused, alleging in excuse, that she was
so extremely interested in the fate of the princess Melisintha, whose
story she was reading, that she could not stir till she had finished it.
That poor princess, continued she, is at present in a most terrible
situation. She has just set fire to the palace, in order to avoid the
embraces of a king who forced her to marry him. I am in pain to know
how she escapes the flames.
Pshaw, interrupted Miss Glanville, let her perish there if she will:
don't let her hinder our walk.
Who is it you doom with so much cruelty to perish? said Arabella,
closing the book, and looking stedfastly on her cousin. Is it the
beautiful Melisintha, that princess, whose fortitude and patience have
justly rendered her the admiration of the whole world? That princess,
descended from a race of heroes, whose heroic virtues all glowed in
her own beauteous breast; that princess, who, when taken captive
with the king her father, bore her imprisonment and chains with a
marvellous constancy; and who, when she had enslaved her conqueror,
and given fetters to the prince who held her father and herself in
bonds, nobly refused the diadem he proffered her, and devoted herself
to destruction, in order to punish the enemy of her house. I am not
able to relate the rest of her history, seeing I have read no farther
myself; but if you will be pleased to sit down and listen to me while I
read what remains, I am persuaded you will find new cause to love and
admire this amiable princess.
Pardon me, madam, said Miss Glanville, I have heard enough; and I could
have been very well satisfied not to have heard so much. I think we
waste a great deal of time talking about people we know nothing of. The
morning will be quite lost, if we don't make haste. Come, added she,
you must go. You have a new lover below, who waits to go with us: he'll
die if I don't bring you.
A new lover! returned Arabella, surprised.
Aye, aye, said Miss Glanville, the learned Mr. Selvin; I assure you, he
had almost quarrelled with Mr. Tinsel last night about your ladyship.
Arabella, at this intelligence, casting down her eyes, discovered many
signs of anger and confusion; and after a silence of some moments,
during which Miss Glanville had been employed in adjusting her dress
at the glass, addressing herself to her cousin with an accent somewhat
less sweet than before--
Had any other than yourself, miss, said she, acquainted me with the
presumption of that unfortunate person, I should haply have discovered
my resentment in other terms: but, as it is, I must inform you, that
I take it extremely ill, you should be accessary to giving me this
offence.
Hey-day! said Miss Glanville, turning about hastily: how have I
offended your ladyship, pray?
I am willing to hope, cousin, replied Arabella, that it was only to
divert yourself with the trouble and confusion in which you see me,
that you have indiscreetly told things which ought to have been buried
in silence.
And what is all this mighty trouble and confusion about then, madam?
said Miss Glanville, smiling. Is it because I told you Mr. Selvin was a
lover of your ladyship?
Certainly, said Arabella: such an information is sufficient to give one
a great deal of perplexity. Is it such a little matter, think you, to
be told that a man has the presumption to love one?
A mere trifle, replied Miss Glanville, laughing; a hundred lovers
are not worth a moment's thought, when one's sure of them, for then
the trouble is all over. And as for this unfortunate person, as your
ladyship called him, let him die at his leisure, while we go to the
parade.
Your levity, cousin, said Arabella, forces me to smile, notwithstanding
the cause I have to be incensed. However, I have charity enough to make
me not desire the death of Mr. Selvin, who may repair the crime he has
been guilty of by repentance and discontinuation.
Well then, said Miss Glanville, you are resolved to go to the parade:
shall I reach you your odd kind of capuchin?
How, said Arabella, can I with any propriety see a man who has
discovered himself to have a passion for me? Will he not construe such
a favour into a permission for him to hope?
Oh, no! interrupted Miss Glanville, he does not imagine I have told
your ladyship he loves you; for indeed he don't know that I am
acquainted with his passion.
Then he is less culpable than I thought him, replied Arabella; and if
you think I am in no danger of hearing a confession of his fault from
his own mouth, I'll comply with your request, and go with you to the
parade. But, added she, I must first engage you to promise not to leave
me alone a moment, lest he should take advantage of such an opportunity
to give some hint of his passion, that would force me to treat him very
rigorously.
Miss Glanville answered, laughing, that she would be sure to mind her
directions. However, said she, your ladyship need not be apprehensive
he will say any fine things to you; for I knew a young lady he
was formerly in love with, and the odious creature visited her a
twelvemonth before he found courage enough to tell her she was handsome.
Doubtless, replied Arabella, he was much to be commended for his
respect. A lover should never have the presumption to declare his
passion to his mistress, unless in certain circumstances, which may
at the same time in part disarm her anger. For instance, he must
struggle with the violence of his passion, till it has cast him into
a fever. His physicians must give him over, pronouncing his distemper
incurable; since the cause of it being in his mind, all their art
is incapable of removing it. Thus he must suffer, rejoicing at the
approach of death, which will free him from all his torments, without
violating the respect he owes to the divine object of his flame. At
length, when he has but a few hours to live, his mistress, with many
signs of compassion, conjures him to tell her the cause of his despair.
The lover, conscious of his crime, evades all her enquiries; but the
lady laying at last a peremptory command upon him to disclose the
secret, he dares not disobey her, and acknowledges his passion with the
utmost contrition for having offended her; bidding her take the small
remainder of his life to expiate his crime; and finishes his discourse
by falling into a swoon.
The lady is touched at his condition, commands him to live, and if
necessary, permits him to hope.
This is the most common way in which such declarations are, and ought
to be, brought about. However, there are others, which are as well
calculated for sparing a lady's confusion, and deprecating her wrath.
The lover, for example, like the prince of the Massagetes, after having
buried his passion in silence for many years, may chance to be walking
with his confidant in a retired place; to whom, with a deluge of tears,
he relates the excess of his passion and despair. And while he is thus
unbosoming his griefs, not in the least suspecting he is overheard, his
princess, who had been listening to him in much trouble and confusion,
by some little rustling she makes, unawares discovers herself.
The surprised lover throws himself at her feet, begs pardon for his
rashness, observes that he had never presumed to discover his passion
to her, and implores her leave to die before her, as a punishment for
his undesigned offence.
The method which the great Artamenes took to let the princess of Media
know he adored her was not less respectful. This valiant prince, who
had long loved her, being to fight a great battle, in which he had some
secret presages he should fall, which however deceived him, wrote a
long letter to the divine Mandana, wherein he discovered his passion,
and the resolution his respect had inspired him with, to consume
in silence, and never presume to disclose his love while he lived;
acquainted her that he had ordered that letter not to be delivered to
her, till it was certainly known that he was dead.
Accordingly he received several wounds in the fight, which brought him
to the ground; and his body not being found, they concluded it was in
the enemy's possession.
His faithful squire, who had received his instructions before the
battle, hastens to the princess, who, with all the court, is mightily
affected at his death.
He presents her the letter, which she makes no scruple to receive,
since the writer is no more. She reads it, and her whole soul is
melted with compassion: she bewails his fate with the most tender and
affectionate marks of grief.
Her confidante asks why she is so much affected, since in all
probability, she would not have pardoned him for loving her, had he
been alive?
She acknowledges the truth of her observation, takes notice that his
death having cancelled his crime, his respectful passion alone employs
her thoughts: she is resolved to bewail, as innocent and worthy of
compassion when dead, him whom living she would treat as a criminal;
and insinuates, that her heart had entertained an affection for him.
Her confidante treasures up this hint, and endeavours to console
her, but in vain, till news is brought, that Artamenes, who had been
carried for dead out of the field, and, by a very surprising adventure
concealed all this time, is returned.
The princess is covered with confusion; and though glad he is alive,
resolves to banish him for his crime.
Her confidante pleads his cause so well, that she consents to see
him; and, since he can no longer conceal his passion, he confirms the
confession in his letter, humbly begging pardon for being still alive.
The princess, who cannot plead ignorance of his passion, nor deny the
sorrow she testified for his death, condescends to pardon him, and he
is also permitted to hope. In like manner the great prince of Persia----
Does your ladyship consider how late it is? interrupted Miss Glanville,
who had hitherto very impatiently listened to her. Don't let us keep
the gentlemen waiting any longer for us.
I must inform you how the prince of Persia declared his love for the
incomparable Berenice, said Arabella.
Another time, dear cousin, said Miss Glanville; methinks we have talked
long enough upon this subject.
I am sorry the time has seemed so tedious to you, said Arabella,
smiling; and therefore I'll trespass no longer upon your patience.
Then ordering Lucy to bring her hat and gloves, she went down stairs,
followed by Miss Glanville, who was greatly disappointed at her not
putting on her veil.