Clarissa Harlowe, Samuel Richardson [black authors fiction .txt] 📗

That

Fortunam superat virtus, prudential famam.

That while weak souls are crushed by fortune, the brave mind maketh the fickle deity afraid of it:

Fortuna fortes metuit, ignavos permit.

Eleventhly, That if she take the advice of Horace,

Fortiaque adversis opponite pectora rebus,

it will delight her hereafter (as Virgil saith) to revoke her past troubles:

⸺⁠Forsan & haec 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 nautae.

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 to heart,

⸻Nor of the laws of fate complain,
Since, though 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—though this may look like vanity, it is too true to be omitted; and I see not why a man may not know these things of himself, which everybody 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 everyone 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 may be a 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 protrasse leoni:

So that, if I should not be safe behind the shield of mine own prudence, I certainly should be 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, although in person but a little David myself, (armed with the slings and stones of the ancient sages), to a due sense of his errors? And what a victory would that be!

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 shown 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 knowledge) 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 grateful and obliging⁠—

And to the same purpose Ovid:

Gratia ab officio, quod mora tar dat, abest.

And, Sir, whatever you do, let the lady’s pardon be as ample, and as cheerfully 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.

And now, Sir, when I survey this long letter,381 (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