Rumour and mystery
Clarissa read-along: Letters 405 to 426
Dear friends,
There have been mercifully few letters over the last two weeks. Even so, it is difficult to keep going, immersed in Clarissa’s distress. As we close the book this week, the doctor tells Belford:
“Her heart’s broke; she’ll die… there’s no saving her.”
“A fortnight or three weeks may deprive the world of the finest flower in it.”
It seems the Harlowes have been in receipt of some bad information, possibly from their spy Mr Brand. Uncle Antony writes, “we are very well assured,” that Clarissa is inflating her penitence and ill-health to obtain their compassion. Much of their opinion appears to be formed out of Lovelace’s own reputation — how could such a villain live with Clarissa so long without laying hands upon her? They are convinced she has been his mistress for the duration. Indeed, Mrs Norton believes the only way to silence the family and repair the damage is to accept Lovelace’s offer of marriage. The Harlowes will not believe he is capable of marriage and therefore will never believe Clarissa’s version of the events.
After months spent fiercely defending her family, Clarissa is now beginning to acknowledge their flaws. She questions her mother’s actions in these heartbreaking lines:
“My dear Mrs Norton, might not, think you, the revered lady have favoured me with one private line? — If not, might not she have permitted you to have written by her order, or connivance, one softening, one motherly line, when she saw her poor girl borne so hard upon?”
Clarissa is well aware that to plead forgiveness from her family, to argue her case with them, is merely to aggravate the situation. As readers, we know that this has always been the case. The Harlowes simply will not hear her. Uncle Antony quotes Ecclesiasticus, which contextualises many of the family’s attitudes to women and daughters, but closes with a small concession, “we hope all is not true that we hear of you.” Could the door be opening for reconciliation? It seems it is not entirely closed.
There are glimmers of hope on the horizon. Morden has just arrived home from Europe and Dr. Lewen has made it known that, “he entirely disapproves of the measures of the family with regard to you.” Yet Morden’s arrival provides Clarissa little comfort, fearing he will either, “sail with the stream” or violently avenge her. This part of the novel is bursting with references to religion and the afterlife, which draw attention to the injustice of society: “God will forgive her, though nobody else will.”
Over in the villain’s corner, Lovelace himself has taken ill and carried himself away with thoughts of death — “I am sick only with love.” His letters on this subject are pure melodrama, ending with yet more threats to descend upon Clarissa in London. Meanwhile, Belford attends the very real death-bed of rake Belton, whose remorse and regret cement Belford’s own desire for reform. For this, Lovelace calls him, “an absolute master of the lamentable.”
By contrast, Lovelace’s remorse is paper thin. Like the Harlowes, he refuses to believe Clarissa is truly ill and clings to the idea that women, “comply at last.” In letter 416, he arrives in London and attempts to charm the Smiths who are caring for her. He is flippant and lighthearted, flashes his money, puts on a show. It comes as no surprise to anyone but Lovelace that his plan backfires. In letter 418, Mrs Lovick challenges him: “How can you thus hunt and persecute a poor lady whom none of her relations will look upon?” Yet by the end of this letter, Lovelace remains convinced that his confessions and desire to, “repair the injuries,” will win over the women. Belford knows it will only push Clarissa further away:
“If thou would’st be thought in earnest in thy wishes to move the poor lady in thy favour, thy ludicrous behaviour at Smith’s, when it comes to be represented to her, will have a very consistent appearance; will it not? — It will indeed confirm her in her opinion that the grave is more to be wished-for, by one of her serious and pious turn, than a husband incapable either of reflection or remorse; just recovered as thou art, from a dangerous, at least a sharp illness.”
Belford is correct, of course. When Clarissa hears of his performance at the Smith’s she exclaims: “Shocking creature! Incorrigible wretch! and, Will nothing make him serious!”
In one final twist this week, Clarissa sends Lovelace a mysterious letter renewing his hopes of marriage and sending him away to the vicinity of her family home. It plays into Lovelace’s narcissism. He assumes she is pregnant, a condition to which he now ascribes her fainting fits, further absolving himself of guilt. But perhaps Clarissa is playing her own little game? “I hope I have not taken an inexcusable step,” she says, before adding, “I shall now perhaps be allowed to die in peace.” What do you make of this strange little letter?
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Featured image is ‘The Strode Family,’ 1738, by William Hogarth, courtesy of Tate