LETTER C.
·Mr. Brand, To John Harlowe, Esq;
Sat. Night, Sept. 2.
·Worthy Sir, ·I am under no small concern, that I should (unhappily) be the occasion (I am sure I intended nothing like it) of widening differences by light misreport, when it is the duty of one of my function (and no less consisting with my inclination) to heal and reconcile.
·I have received two Letters to set me right: One from a particular acquaintance (whom I set to enquire of Mr. Belford's character); and that came on Tuesday last, informing me, that your unhappy Niece was greatly injured in the account I had had of her (for I had told him of it, and that with very great concern, I am sure, apprehending it to be true). So I then set about writing to you, to acknowlege the error: And had gone a good way in it; when the second Letter came (a very handsome one it is, both in style and penmanship) from my friend Mr. Walton (tho' I am sure it cannot be his inditing) expressing his sorrow, and his Wife's, and his Sister-in-law's likewise, for having been the cause of misleading me, in the account I gave of the said young Lady; whom they now say (upon further enquiry) they find to be the most unblameable, and most prudent, and (it seems) the most pious young Lady, that ever (once) committed a great error; as (to be sure) hers was, in leaving such worthy Parents
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and Relations for so vile a man as Mr. Lovelace: But what shall we say? ---Why, the divine Virgil tells us,
·Improbe Amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis?
·For my part, I was but too much afraid (for we have great opportunities, you are sensible, Sir, at the University, of knowing human nature from books, the calm result of the wise mens wisdom, as I may say,
·(Haurit aquam cribro, qui discere vult sine libro)
uninterrupted by the noise and vanities, that will mingle with personal conversation, which (in the turbulent world) is not to be enjoyed but over a bottle, where you have an hundred foolish things pass to one that deserveth to be remembered; I was but too much afraid, I say) that so great a slip might be attended with still greater and worse: For your Horace, and my Horace, the most charming writer that ever lived among the Pagans (for the lyric kind of poetry, I mean; for, to be sure, Homer and Virgil would otherwise be first named in their way) well observeth (and who understood human nature better than he?)
·Nec vera virtus, cum semel excidit, ·Curat reponi deterioribus.
·And Ovid no less wisely observeth:
·Et mala sunt vicina bonis. Errore sub illo ·Pro vitio virtus crimina sæpe tulit.
·Who, that can draw knowlege from its fountain-head, the works of the sages of antiquity (improved by the comments of the moderns) but would prefer to all others the silent quiet life, which contemplative men lead in the seats of learning, were they not called out (according to their dedication) to the service and instruction of the world?
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·Now, Sir, another favourite poet of mine (and not the less a favourite for being a Christian) telleth us, that it is the custom of some, when in a fault, to throw the blame upon the backs of others,
·---Hominum quoque mos est, ·Quæ nos cunque premunt, alieno imponere tergo.
·Mant.
But I, tho' (in this case) misled (well-intendedly, nevertheless, both in the misleaders and misled, and therefore entitled to lay hold of that plea, if anybody is so entitled) will not, however, be classed among such extenuators; but (contrarily) will always keep in mind that verse, which comforteth in mistake, as well as instructeth; and which I quoted in my last Letter;
·Errare est hominis, sed non persistere---
And will own, that I was very rash to take up with conjectures and consequences drawn from probabilities, where (especially) the character of so fine a Lady was concerned.
·Credere fallaci gravis est dementia famæ
Mant.
·Notwithstanding, Miss Clarissa Harlowe (I must be bold to say) is the only young Lady, that ever I heard of (or indeed read of) that, having made such a false step, so soon (of her own accord, as I may say) recovered herself, and conquered her Love of the deceiver (A great conquest indeed!); and who flieth him, and resolveth to die, rather than to be his; which now to her never-dying honour (I am well assured) is the case---And, in justice to her, I am now ready to take to myself (with no small vexation) that of Ovid,
·Heu! patior telis vulnera facta meis.
·But yet I do insist upon it, that all that part of my information, which I took upon mine own personal
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enquiry, which is what relates to Mr. Belford, and his character, is literally true; for there is not any-where to be met with a man of a more libertine character as to women, Mr. Lovelace excepted, than he beareth.
·And so, Sir, I must desire of you, that you will not let any blame lie upon my intention; since you see how ready I am to accuse myself of too lightly giving ear to a rash information (not knowing it so to be, however): For I depended the more upon it, as the people I had it from are very sober, and live in the fear of God: And indeed when I wait upon you, you will see by their Letter, that they must be conscientious good people: Wherefore, Sir, let me be entitled, from all your good family, to that of my last-named poet,
·Aspera confesso verba remitte reo.
·And now, Sir (what is much more becoming of my function) let me, instead of appearing with the face of an accuser, and a rash censurer (which in my heart I have not deserved to be thought), assume the character of a reconciler; and propose (by way of penance to myself for my fault) to be sent up as a messenger of peace to the pious young Lady; for they write me word absolutely (and, I believe in my heart, truly that the Doctors have given her over, and that she cannot live. Alas! alas! what a sad thing would that be, if the poor bough, that was only designed (as I very well know, and am fully assured) to be bent, should be broken!
·Let it not, dear Sir, seem to the world, that there was any-thing in your resentments (which, while meant for reclaiming, were just and fit) that hath the appearance of violence, and fierce wrath, and inexorability (as it would look to some, if carried to extremity, after repentance, and contrition, and humiliation, on the fair offender's side): For all this while (it seemeth) she hath been a second Magdalen in her penitence,
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and yet not so bad as a Magdalen in her faults (faulty, nevertheless, as she hath been once, the Lord knoweth!)
·Nam vitiis nemo sine nascitur: optimus ille est, ·Qui minimis urgetur---saith Horace).
·Now, Sir, if I may be named for this blessed employment (For, Blessed is the peacemaker!) I will hasten to London; and (as I know Miss had always a great regard to the function I have the honour to be of) I have no doubt of making myself acceptable to her, and to bring her, by sound arguments, and good advice, into a liking of life, which must be the first step to her recovery: For, when the mind is made easy, the body will not long suffer; and the love of life is a natural passion, that is soon revived, when fortune turneth about, and smileth:
·Vivere quisque diu, quamvis & egenus & æger, ·Optat---,
Ovid.
·And the sweet Lucan truly observeth,
·---Fatis debentibus annos ·Mors invita subit---
·And now, Sir, let me tell you what shall be the tenor of my pleadings with her, and comfortings of her, as she is, as I may say, a learned Lady; and as I can explain to her those sentences, which she cannot so readily construe herself: And this in order to convince you (did you not already know my qualifications) how well qualified I am for the Christian Office to which I commend myself.
·I will, IN THE FIRST PLACE, put her in mind of the common course of things in this sublunary world, in which joy and sorrow, sorrow and joy, succeed one another by turns; in order to convince her, that her griefs have been but according to that common course of things:
·Gaudia post luctus veniunt, post gaudia luctus.
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·Secondly, I will remind her of her own notable description of Sorrow, when she was once called upon to distinguish wherein Sorrow, Grief, and Melancholy, differed from each other; which she did impromptu, by their effects, in a truly admirable manner, to the high satisfaction of every one: I myself could not, by study, have distinguished better, nor more concisely---Sorrow, said she, wears; Grief tears; but Melancholy sooths.
·My inference to her shall be, that since a happy Reconciliation will take place, Grief will be banished; Sorrow dismissed; and only sweet Melancholy remain to sooth and indulge her contrite heart, and shew to all the world the penitent sense she hath of her great error.
·Thirdly, That her Joys (a) [Footnote a: 1Kb], when restored to health and favour, will be the greater, the deeper her griefs were.
·Gaudia, qua multo parta labore, placent.
·Fourthly, That having really been guilty of a great error, she should not take impatiently the correction and anger with which she hath been treated.
·Leniter, ex merito quicquid patiare, ferundum est.
·Fifthly, That Virtue must be established by Patience; as faith Prudentius:
·Hæc virtus vidua est, quam non patientia firmat.
·Sixthly, That, in the words of Horace, she may expect better times, than (of late) she had reason to look for:
·Grata superveniet, quæ non sperabitur, hora.
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·Seventhly, That she is really now in a way to be happy, since, according to Ovid, she can count up all her woe:
·Felix, qui patitur quæ numerare potest.
·And those comforting lines,
·Estque serena dies post longos gratior imbres, ·Et post triste malum gratior ipsa salus.
·Eighthly, That, in the words of Mantuan, her Parents and Uncles could not help loving her all the time they were angry at her:
·Æqua tamen semper mens est, & amica voluntas, ·Sit licet in natos facies austera parentum.
·Ninthly, That the ills she hath met with may be turned (by the good use to be made of them) to her everlasting benefit; for that,
·Cum furit atque ferit, Deus olim parcere quærit.
·Tenthly, That she will be able to give a fine lesson (a very fine lesson) to all the young Ladies of her acquaintance, of the vanity of being lifted up in prosperity, and the weakness of being cast down in adversity; since no one is so high, as to be above being humbled; so low, as to need to despair: For which purpose the advice of Ausonius,
·Dum Fortuna juvat, caveto tolli: ·Dum fortuna tonat, caveto mergi.
·I shall tell her, that Lucan saith well, when he calleth adversity the element of patience:
·---Gaudet patientia duris.
·That
·Fortunam superat virtus, prudentia famam.
·That while weak souls are crushed by fortune, the brave mind maketh the fickle deity afraid of it:
·Fortuna fortes metuit, ignavos premit.
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·Eleventhly, That if she take the advice of Horace,
·Fortiaque adversis opponite pectora rebus,
·it will delight her hereafter (as Virgil saith) to revolve her past troubles:
·---Forsan & hæc olim meminisse juvabit.
·And, to the same purpose, Juvenal speaking of the prating joy of mariners, after all their dangers are over:
·Gaudent securi narrare pericula nautæ.
·Which suiting the case so well, you'll forgive me, Sir, for popping down in English metre, as the translative impulse (pardon a new word, and yet we scholars are not fond of authenticating new words) came upon me uncalled for:
·The Seaman, safe on shore, with joy doth tell ·What cruel dangers him at sea befell.
·With these, Sir, and an hundred more, wise adages, which I have always at my fingers end, will I (when reduced to form and method) entertain Miss; and as she is a well-read, and (I might say, but for this one great error) a wise young Lady, I make no doubt but I shall prevail upon her, if not by mine own arguments, by those of wits and capacities that have a congeniality (as I may say) to her own, to take heart,
·---Nor of the laws of fate complain, ·Since, tho' it has been cloudy, now 't clears up again.---
·Oh! what wisdom is there in these noble classical authors! A wise man will (upon searching into them) always find that they speak his sense of men and things. Hence it is, that they so readily occur to my memory on every occasion---Tho' this may look like vanity it is too true to be omitted: And I see not why a man may not know those things of himself,
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which every-body seeth and saith of him; who, nevertheless, perhaps know not half so much as he, in other matters.
·I know but of one objection, Sir, that can lie against my going; and that will arise from your kind care and concern for the safety of my person, in case that fierce and terrible man, the wicked Mr. Lovelace (of whom every one standeth in fear) should come cross me, as he may be resolved to try once more to gain a footing in Miss's affections: But I will trust in providence for my safety, while I shall be engaged in a cause so worthy of my function; and the more trust in it, as he is a learned man, as I am told.
·Strange too, that so vile a Rake (I hope he will never see this!) should be a learned man; that is to say, that a learned man should find leisure to be a Rake. Altho', possibly, a learned man may be sly sinner, and take opportunities, as they come in his way---Which, however, I do assure you, I never did.
·I repeat, That as he is a learned man, I shall vest myself, as I may say, in classical armour; beginning meekly with him (for, Sir, bravery and meekness are qualities very consistent with each other, and in no persons so shiningly exert themselves, as in the Christian priesthood; beginning meekly with him, I say) from Ovid,
·Corpora magnanimo satis est prostrâsse leoni:
·So that, if I should not be safe behind the shield of mine own prudence, I certainly should behind the shields of the ever-admirable classics: Of Horace particularly; who, being a Rake (and a jovial Rake too) himself, must have great weight with all learned Rakes.
·And who knoweth but I may be able to bring even this Goliath in wickedness, altho' in person but a little David myself (armed with the slings and stones of the antient sages), to a due sense of his errors? And what a victory would that be!
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·I could here, Sir, pursuing the allegory of David and Goliath, give you some of the stones (Hard arguments may be called stones, since they knock down a pertinacious opponent) which I could pelt him with, were he to be wroth with me; and this in order to take from you, Sir, all apprehensions for my life, or my bones; but I forbear them till you demand them of me, when I have the honour to attend you in person.
·And now (my dear Sir) what remaineth, but that, having shewn you (what yet, I believe, you did not doubt) how well qualified I am to attend the Lady with the olive branch, I beg of you to dispatch me with it out of hand? For if she be so very ill, and if she should not live to receive the grace, which (to my knowlege) all the worthy family design her, how much will that grieve you all! And then, Sir, of what avail will be the eulogies you shall all, peradventure, join to give to her memory? For, as Martial wisely observeth,
·---Post cineres gloria sera venit.
·Then, as Ausonius layeth it down with equal propriety, that those favours, which are speedily conferred, are the most graceful and obliging---
·And to the same purpose Ovid:
·Gratia ab officio, quod mora tardat, abest.
·And, Sir, whatever you do, let the Lady's pardon be as ample, and as chearfully given, as she can wish for it; that I may be able to tell her, that it hath your hands, your countenances, and your whole hearts, with it---For, as the Latin verse hath it (and I presume to think I have not weakened its sense by my humble advice)
·Dat bene, dat multum, qui dat cum munere vultum.
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·And now, Sir, when I survey this long Letter (a) [Footnote a: 1Kb], (albeit I see it enamelled, as a beautiful meadow is enamelled by the spring or summer flowers, very glorious to behold!) I begin to be afraid, that I may have tired you; and the more likely, as I have written without that method or order, which I think constituteth the beauty of good writing: Which method or order, nevertheless, may be the better excused in a familiar epistle (as this may be called), you pardoning, Sir, the familiarity of the word: But yet not altogether here, I must needs own; because this is a Letter, and not a Letter, as I may say; but a kind of short and pithy Discourse, touching upon various and sundry topics, every one of which might be a fit theme to enlarge upon, even to volumes: If this Epistolary Discourse (then let me call it) should be pleasing to you (as I am inclined to think it will, because of the sentiments and aphorisms of the wisest of the antients, which glitter thro' it like so many dazling sun-beams), I will (at my leisure) work it up into a methodical Discourse; and perhaps may one day print it, with a dedication to my honoured patron (if, Sir, I have your leave) singly at first (but not till I have thrown out anonymously two or three smaller things, by the success of which I shall have made myself of some account in the Commonwealth of Letters), and afterwards in my Works---Not for the vanity of the thing (however) I will say, but for the use it may be of to the public; for (as one well observeth) Tho' glory always followeth virtue, yet it should be considered only as its shadow.
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·Contemnit laudem virtus, licet usque sequatur ·Gloria virtutem, corpus ut umbra suum.
·A very pretty saying, and worthy of all mens admiration!
·And now (most worthy Sir, my very good friend and patron) referring the whole to yours, and to your two Brothers, and to young Mr. Harlowe's consideration, and to the wise consideration of good Madam Harlowe, and her excellent Daughter Miss Arabella Harlowe; I take the liberty to subscribe myself, what I truly am, and ever shall delight to be, in all cases, and at all times,
·Your and their most ready and obedient ·as well as faithful Servant, ·Elias Brand.·