POSTSCRIPT
REFERRED TO IN THE PREFACE
In which several objections that have been made, as well to the catastrophe, as to different parts of the preceding history, are briefly considered.
The foregoing work having been published at three different periods oftime, the author, in the course of its publication, was favoured withmany anonymous letters, in which the writers differently expressed theirwishes with regard to the apprehended catastrophe.
Most of those directed to him by the gentler sex, turned in favour ofwhat they called a fortunate ending. Some of the fair writers,enamoured, as they declared, with the character of the heroine, werewarmly solicitous to have her made happy; and others, likewise of theirmind, insisted that poetical justice required that it should be so. Andwhen, says one ingenious lady, whose undoubted motive was good-nature andhumanity, it must be concluded that it is in an author's power to makehis piece end as he pleases, why should he not give pleasure rather thanpain to the reader whom he has interested in favour of his principalcharacters?
Others, and some gentlemen, declared against tragedies in general, and infavour of comedies, almost in the words of Lovelace, who was supported inhis taste by all the women at Mrs. Sinclair's and by Sinclair herself.'I have too much feeling, said he.* There is enough in the world to makeour hearts sad, without carrying grief into our diversions, and makingthe distresses of others our own.'
* See Vol. IV. Letter XL.
And how was this happy ending to be brought about? Why, by this veryeasy and trite expedient; to wit, by reforming Lovelace, and marrying himto Clarissa--not, however, abating her one of her trials, nor any of hersufferings, [for the sake of the sport her distresses would give to thetender-hearted reader, as she went along,] the last outrage excepted:that, indeed, partly in compliment to Lovelace himself, and partly forher delicacy-sake, they were willing to spare her.
But whatever were the fate of his work, the author was resolved to take adifferent method. He always thought that sudden conversions, such,especially, as were left to the candour of the reader to suppose and makeout, has neither art, nor nature, nor even probability, in them; and thatthey were moreover of a very bad example. To have a Lovelace, for aseries of years, glory in his wickedness, and think that he had nothingto do, but as an act of grace and favour to hold out his hand to receivethat of the best of women, whenever he pleased, and to have it thoughtthat marriage would be a sufficient amends for all his enormities toothers as well as to her--he could not bear that. Nor is reformation, ashe has shown in another piece, to be secured by a fine face; by a passionthat has sense for its object; nor by the goodness of a wife's heart, noreven example, if the heart of the husband be not graciously touched bythe Divine finger.
It will be seen, by this time, that the author had a great end in view.He had lived to see the scepticism and infidelity openly avowed, and evenendeavoured to be propagated from the press; the greatest doctrines ofthe Gospel brought into question; those of self-denial and mortificationblotted out of the catalogue of christian virtues; and a taste even towantonness for out-door pleasure and luxury, to the general exclusion ofdomestic as well as public virtue, industriously promoted among all ranksand degrees of people.
In this general depravity, when even the pulpit has lost great part ofits weight, and the clergy are considered as a body of interested men,the author thought he should be able to answer it to his own heart, bethe success what it would, if he threw in his mite towards introducing areformation so much wanted: and he imagined, that if in an age given upto diversion and entertainment, if he could steal in, as may be said, andinvestigate the great doctrines of Christianity under the fashionableguise of an amusement; he should be most likely to serve his purpose,remembering that of the Poet:--
A verse may find him who a sermon flies, And turn delight into a sacrifice.
He was resolved, therefore, to attempt something that never yet had beendone. He considered that the tragic poets have as seldom made theirheroes true objects of pity, as the comics theirs laudable ones ofimitation: and still more rarely have made them in their deaths lookforward to a future hope. And thus, when they die, they seem totally toperish. Death, in such instances, must appear terrible. It must beconsidered as the greatest evil. But why is death set in such shockinglights, when it is the universal lot?
He has, indeed, thought fit to paint the death of the wicked, as terribleas he could paint it. But he has endeavoured to draw that of the good insuch an amiable manner, that the very Balaams of the world should notforbear to wish that their latter end might be like that of the heroine.
And after all, what is the poetical justice so much contended for bysome, as the generality of writers have managed it, but another sort ofdispensation than that with which God, by revelation, teaches us, He hasthought fit to exercise mankind; whom placing here only in a state ofprobation, he hath so intermingled good and evil, as to necessitate us tolook forward for a more equal dispensation of both?
The Author of the History (or rather Dramatic Narrative) of Clarissa, istherefore well justified by the christian system, in deferring toextricate suffering virtue to the time in which it will meet with thecompletion of its reward.
But not absolutely to shelter the conduct observed in it under thesanction of Religion, [an authority, perhaps, not of the greatest weightwith some of our modern critics,] it must be observed, that the Author isjustified in its catastrophe by the greatest master of reason, and bestjudge of composition, that ever lived. The learned reader knows we mustmean ARISTOTLE; whose sentiments in this matter we shall beg leave todeliver in the words of a very amiable writer of our own country:
'The English writers of Tragedy,' says Mr. Addison,* 'are possessed witha notion, that when they represent a virtuous or innocent person indistress, they ought not to leave him till they have delivered him out ofhis troubles, or made him triumph over his enemies.
* Spectator, Vol. I. No. XL.
'This error they have been led into by a ridiculous doctrine in moderncriticism, that they are obliged to an equal distribution of rewards andpunishments, and an impartial execution of poetical justice.
'Who were the first that established this rule, I know not; but I am sureit has no foundation in NATURE, in REASON, or in the PRACTICE OF THEANTIENTS.
'We find that good and evil happen alike unto ALL MEN on this side thegrave: and as the principal design of tragedy is to raise commiserationand terror in the minds of the audience, we shall defeat this great end,if we always make virtue and innocence happy and successful.
'Whatever crosses and disappoints a good man suffers in the body of thetragedy, they will make but small impression on our minds, when we know,that, in the last act, he is to arrive at the end of his wishes anddesires.
'When we see him engaged in the depth of his afflictions, we are apt tocomfort ourselves, because we are sure he will find his way out of them,and that his grief, however great soever it may be at present, will soonterminate in gladness.
'For this reason, the antient writers of tragedy treated men in theirplays, as they are dealt with in the world, by making virtue sometimeshappy and sometimes miserable, as they found it in the fable which theymade choice of, or as it might affect their audience in the mostagreeable manner.
'Aristotle considers the tragedies that were written in either of thosekinds; and observes, that those which ended unhappily had always pleasedthe people, and carried away the prize, in the public disputes of thestate, from those that ended happily.
'Terror and commiseration leave a pleasing anguish in the mind, and fixthe audience in such a serious composure of thought, as is much morelasting and delightful, than any little transient starts of joy andsatisfaction.
'Accordingly, we find, that more of our English tragedies have succeeded,in which the favourites of the audience sink under their calamities, thanthose in which they recover themselves out of them.
'The best plays of this kind ar
e The Orphan, Venice Preserved, Alexanderthe Great, Theodosius, All for Love, Oedipus, Oroonoko, Othello, &c.
'King Lear is an admirable tragedy of the same kind, as Shakespeare wroteit: but as it is reformed according to the chimerical notion of POETICALJUSTICE, in my humble opinion it has lost half its beauty.
'At the same time I must allow, that there are very noble tragedies whichhave been framed upon the other plan, and have ended happily; as indeedmost of the good tragedies which have been written since the starting ofthe above-mentioned criticism, have taken this turn: The Mourning Bride,Tamerlane,* Ulysses, Phaedra and Hippolitus, with most of Mr. Dryden's. Imust also allow, that many of Shakespeare's, and several of thecelebrated tragedies of antiquity, are cast in the same form. I do not,therefore, dispute against this way of writing tragedies; but against thecriticism that would establish this as the only method; and by that meanswould very much cramp the English tragedy, and perhaps give a wrong bentto the genius of our writers.'
* Yet, in Tamerlane, two of the most amiable characters, Moneses andArpasia, suffer death.
This subject is further considered in a letter to the Spectator.*
* See Spect. Vol. VII. No. 548.
'I find your opinion,' says the author of it, 'concerning thelate-invented term called poetical justice, is controverted by someeminent critics. I have drawn up some additional arguments to strengthenthe opinion which you have there delivered; having endeavoured to go tothe bottom of that matter. . . .
'The most perfect man has vices enough to draw down punishments upon hishead, and to justify Providence in regard to any miseries that may befallhim. For this reason I cannot but think that the instruction and moralare much finer, where a man who is virtuous in the main of his characterfalls into distress, and sinks under the blows of fortune, at the end ofa tragedy, than when he is represented as happy and triumphant. Such anexample corrects the insolence of human nature, softens the mind of thebeholder with sentiments of pity and compassion, comforts him under hisown private affliction, and teaches him not to judge of men's virtues bytheir successes.* I cannot think of one real hero in all antiquity sofar raised above human infirmities, that he might not be very naturallyrepresented in a tragedy as plunged in misfortunes and calamities. Thepoet may still find out some prevailing passion or indiscretion in hischaracter, and show it in such a manner as will sufficiently acquitProvidence of any injustice in his sufferings: for, as Horace observes,the best man is faulty, though not in so great a degree as those whomwe generally call vicious men.**
* A caution that our Blessed Saviour himself gives in the case of theeighteen person killed by the fall of the tower of Siloam, Luke xiii. 4.** Vitiis nemo sine nascitur: optimus ille, Qui minimis urgentur.----
'If such a strict poetical justice (proceeds the letter-writer,) as somegentlemen insist upon, were to be observed in this art, there is nomanner of reason why it should not be so little observed in Homer, thathis Achilles is placed in the greatest point of glory and success, thoughhis character is morally vicious, and only poetically good, if I may usethe phrase of our modern critics. The AEnead is filled with innocentunhappy persons. Nisus and Euryalus, Lausus and Pallas, come all tounfortunate ends. The poet takes notice in particular, that in thesacking of Troy, Ripheus fell, who was the most just character among theTrojans:
'----Cadit & Ripheus, justissimus unus Qui fuit in Teucris, & servantissimus aequi. Diis aliter visum est.--
'The gods thought fit.--So blameless Ripheus fell, Who lov'd fair Justice, and observ'd it well.'
'And that Pantheus could neither be preserved by his transcendent piety,nor by the holy fillets of Apollo, whose priest he was:
'--Nec te tua plurima, Pantheu, Labentum pietas, nec Apollinis infula texit. AEn. II.
'Nor could thy piety thee, Pantheus, save, Nor ev'n thy priesthood, from an early grave.'
'I might here mention the practice of antient tragic poets, both Greekand Latin; but as this particular is touched upon in the paperabove-mentioned, I shall pass it over in silence. I could producepassages out of Aristotle in favour of my opinion; and if in one place hesays, that an absolutely virtuous man should not be represented asunhappy, this does not justify any one who should think fit to bring inan absolutely virtuous man upon the stage. Those who are acquainted withthat author's way of writing, know very well, that to take the wholeextent of his subject into his divisions of it, he often makes use ofsuch cases as are imaginary, and not reducible to practice. . . .
'I shall conclude,' says this gentleman, 'with observing, that though theSpectator above-mentioned is so far against the rule of poetical justice,as to affirm, that good men may meet with an unhappy catastrophe intragedy, it does not say, that ill men may go off unpunished. The reasonfor this distinction is very plain; namely, because the best of men [asis said above,] have faults enough to justify Providence for anymisfortunes and afflictions which may befall them; but there are many menso criminal, that they can have no claim or pretence to happiness. Thebest of men may deserve punishment; but the worst of men cannot deservehappiness.'
Mr. Addison, as we have seen above, tells us, that Aristotle, inconsidering the tragedies that were written in either of the kinds,observes, that those which ended unhappily had always pleased the people,and carried away the prize, in the public disputes of the stage, fromthose that ended happily. And we shall take leave to add, that thispreference was given at a time when the entertainments of the stage werecommitted to the care of the magistrates; when the prizes contended forwere given by the state; when, of consequence, the emulation amongwriters was ardent; and when learning was at the highest pitch of gloryin that renowned commonwealth.
It cannot be supposed, that the Athenians, in this their highest age oftaste and politeness, were less humane, less tender-hearted, than we ofthe present. But they were not afraid of being moved, nor ashamed ofshowing themselves to be so, at the distresses they saw well painted andrepresented. In short, they were of the opinion, with the wisest of men,that it was better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house ofmirth; and had fortitude enough to trust themselves with their owngenerous grief, because they found their hearts mended by it.
Thus also Horace, and the politest Romans in the Augustan age, wished tobe affected:
Ac ne forte putes me, quae facere ipse recusem, Cum recte tractant alii, laudere maligne; Ille per extentum funem mihi posse videtur Ire poeta, meum qui pectus inaniter angit, Irritat, mulcet; falsis terroribus implet, Ut magus; & modo me Thebis, modo point Athenis.
Thus Englished by Mr. Pope:
Yet, lest thou think I rally more than teach, Or praise malignly arts I cannot reach; Let me, for once, presume t'instruct the times To know the poet from the man of rhymes. 'Tis he who gives my breast a thousand pains: Can make me feel each passion that he feigns; Enrage--compose--with more than magic art, With pity and with terror tear my heart; And snatch me o'er the earth, or through the air, To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where.
Our fair readers are also desired to attend to what a celebrated critic*of a neighbouring nation says on the nature and design of tragedy, fromthe rules laid down by the same great antient.
* Rapin, on Aristotle's Poetics.
'Tragedy,' says he, makes man modest, by representing the great mastersof the earth humbled; and it makes him tender and merciful, by showinghim the strange accidents of life, and the unforeseen disgraces, to whichthe most important persons are subject.
'But because man is naturally timorous and compassionate, he may fallinto other extremes. Too much fear may shake his constancy of mind, andtoo much of tragedy to regulate these two weaknesses. It prepares andarms him against disgraces, by showing them so frequent in the mostconsiderable persons; and he will cease to fear extraordinary accidents,when he sees them happen to the highest part of mankind. And still moreefficacious
, we may add, the example will be, when he sees them happento the best.
'But as the end of tragedy is to teach men not to fear too weakly commonmisfortunes, it proposes also to teach them to spare their compassion forobjects that deserve it. For there is an injustice in being moved at theafflictions of those who deserve to be miserable. We may see, withoutpity, Clytemnestra slain by her son Orestes in AEschylus, because she hadmurdered Agamemnon her husband; yet we cannot see Hippolytus die by theplot of his step-mother Phaedra, in Euripides, without compassion, becausehe died not, but for being chaste and virtuous.
These are the great authorities so favourable to the stories that endunhappily. And we beg leave to reinforce this inference from them, thatif the temporary sufferings of the virtuous and the good can be accountedfor and justified on Pagan principles, many more and infinitely strongerreasons will occur to a Christian reader in behalf of what are calledunhappy catastrophes, from the consideration of the doctrine of futurerewards; which is every where strongly enforced in the History ofClarissa.
Of this, (to give but one instance,) an ingenious modern, distinguishedby his rank, but much more for his excellent defence of some of the mostimportant doctrines of Christianity, appears convinced in the conclusionof a pathetic Monody, lately published; in which, after he had deplored,as a man without hope, (expressing ourselves in the Scripture phrase,)the loss of an excellent wife; he thus consoles himself:
Yet, O my soul! thy rising murmurs stay, Nor dare th' All-wise Disposer to arraign, Or against his supreme decree With impious grief complain. That all thy full-blown joys at once should fade, Was his most righteous will: and be that will obey'd. Would thy fond love his grace to her controul, And in these low abodes of sin and pain Her pure, exalted soul, Unjustly, for thy partial good detain? No--rather strive thy grov'ling mind to raise Up to that unclouded blaze, That heav'nly radiance of eternal light, In which enthron'd she now with pity sees, How frail, how insecure, how slight, Is every mortal bliss.
But of infinitely greater weight than all that has been above producedon this subject, are the words of the Psalmist:
'As for me, says he,* my feet were almost gone, my steps had well nighslipt: for I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of thewicked. For their strength is firm: they are not in trouble as othermen; neither are they plagued like other men--their eyes stand out withfatness: they have more than their heart could wish--verily I havecleansed mine heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocence; for allthe day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning. When Ithought to know this, it was too painful for me. Until I went into thesanctuary of God; then understood I their end--thou shalt guide me withthy counsel, and afterwards receive me to glory.'
* Psalm lxxiii.
This is the Psalmist's comfort and dependence. And shall man, presumingto alter the common course of nature, and, so far as he is able, to eludethe tenure by which frail mortality indispensably holds, imagine that hecan make a better dispensation; and by calling it poetical justice,indirectly reflect on the Divine?
The more pains have been taken to obviate the objections arising from thenotion of poetical justice, as the doctrine built upon it had obtainedgeneral credit among us; and as it must be confessed to have theappearance of humanity and good nature for its supports. And yet thewriter of the History of Clarissa is humbly of opinion, that he mighthave been excused referring to them for the vindication of hiscatastrophe, even by those who are advocates for the contrary opinion;since the notion of poetical justice, founded on the modern rules, hashardly ever been more strictly observed in works of this nature than inthe present performance.
For, is not Mr. Lovelace, who could persevere in his villanous views,against the strongest and most frequent convictions and remorses thatever were sent to awaken and reclaim a wicked man--is not this great,this wilful transgressor condignly punished; and his punishment broughton through the intelligence of the very Joseph Leman whom he hadcorrupted;* and by means of the very woman whom he had debauched**--isnot Mr. Belton, who had an uncle's hastened death to answer for***--arenot the infamous Sinclair and her wretched partners--and even the wickedservants, who, with their eyes open, contributed their parts to thecarrying on of the vile schemes of their respective principals--are theynot all likewise exemplarily punished?
* See Letter LVIII. of this volume.** Ibid. Letter LXI.*** See Vol. VIII. Letter XVI.
On the other hand, is not Miss HOWE, for her noble friendship to theexalted lady in her calamities--is not Mr. HICKMAN, for hisunexceptionable morals, and integrity of life--is not the repentant andnot ungenerous BELFORD--is not the worthy NORTON--made signally happy?
And who that are in earnest in their professions of Christianity, butwill rather envy than regret the triumphant death of CLARISSA; whosepiety, from her early childhood; whose diffusive charity; whose steadyvirtue; whose Christian humility, whose forgiving spirit; whose meekness,and resignation, HEAVEN only could reward?*
* And here it may not be amiss to remind the reader, that so early in thework as Vol. II. Letter XXXVIII. the dispensations of Providence arejustified by herself. And thus she ends her reflections--'I shall notlive always--may my closing scene be happy!'--She had her wish. It washappy.
We shall now, according to the expectation given in the Preface to thisedition, proceed to take brief notice of such other objections as havecome to our knowledge: for, as is there said, 'This work being addressedto the public as a history of life and manners, those parts of it whichare proposed to carry with them the force of example, ought to be asunobjectionable as is consistent with the design of the whole, and withhuman nature.'
Several persons have censured the heroine as too cold in her love, toohaughty, and even sometimes provoking. But we may presume to say, thatthis objection has arisen from want of attention to the story, to thecharacter of Clarissa, and to her particular situation.
It was not intended that she should be in love, but in liking only, ifthat expression may be admitted. It is meant to be every whereinculcated in the story for example sake, that she never would havemarried Mr. Lovelace, because of his immoralities, had she been left toherself; and that of her ruin was principally owing to the persecutionsof her friends.
What is too generally called love, ought (perhaps as generally) to becalled by another name. Cupidity, or a Paphian stimulus, as some women,even of condition, have acted, are not words too harsh to be substitutedon the occasion, however grating they may be to delicate ears. But takethe word love in the gentlest and most honourable sense, it would havebeen thought by some highly improbable, that Clarissa should have beenable to show such a command of her passions, as makes so distinguishinga part of her character, had she been as violently in love, as certainwarm and fierce spirits would have had her to be. A few observations arethrown in by way of note in the present edition, at proper places toobviate this objection, or rather to bespeak the attention of hastyreaders to what lies obviously before them. For thus the heroineanticipates this very objection, expostulating with Miss Howe on hercontemptuous treatment of Mr. Hickman; which (far from being guilty ofthe same fault herself) she did, on all occasions, and declares she woulddo so, whenever Miss Howe forgot herself, although she had not a day tolive:
'O my dear,' says she, 'that it had been my lot (as I was not permittedto live single) to have met with a man, by whom I could have actedgenerously and unreservedly!
'Mr. Lovelace, it is now plain, in order to have a pretence against me,taxed my behaviour to him with stiffness and distance. You, at one time,thought me guilty of some degree of prudery. Difficult situations shouldbe allowed for: which often make seeming occasions for censureunavoidable. I deserved not blame from him, who made mine difficult.And you, my dear, had I any other man to deal with than Mr. Lovelace, orhad he but half the merit which Mr. Hickman has, would have found, thatm
y doctrine on this subject, should have governed my whole practice.'See this whole Letter, No. XXXII. Vol. VIII. See also Mr. Lovelace'sLetter, Vol. VIII. No. LIX. and Vol. IX. No. XLII. where, just before hisdeath, he entirely acquits her conduct on this head.
It has been thought, by some worthy and ingenious persons, that ifLovelace had been drawn an infidel or scoffer, his character, accordingto the taste of the present worse than sceptical age, would have beenmore natural. It is, however, too well known, that there are very manypersons, of his cast, whose actions discredit their belief. And are notthe very devils, in Scripture, said to believe and tremble?
But the reader must have observed, that, great, and, it is hoped, gooduse, has been made throughout the work, by drawing Lovelace an infidel,only in practice; and this as well in the arguments of his friendBelford, as in his own frequent remorses, when touched with temporarycompunction, and in his last scenes; which could not have been made, hadeither of them been painted as sentimental unbelievers. Not to say thatClarissa, whose great objection to Mr. Wyerley was, that he was ascoffer, must have been inexcusable had she known Lovelace to be so, andhad given the least attention to his addresses. On the contrary, thusshe comforts herself, when she thinks she must be his--'This oneconsolation, however, remains; he is not an infidel, an unbeliever. Hadhe been an infidel, there would have been no room at all for hope of him;but (priding himself as he does in his fertile invention) he would havebeen utterly abandoned, irreclaimable, and a savage.'* And it must beobserved, that scoffers are too witty, in their own opinion, (in otherwords, value themselves too much upon their profligacy,) to aim atconcealing it.
* See Vol. IV. Letter XXXIX. and Vol. V. Letter VIII.
Besides, had Lovelace added ribbald jests upon religion, to his otherliberties, the freedoms which would then have passed between him and hisfriend, must have been of a nature truly infernal.
And this father hint was meant to be given, by way of inference, that theman who allowed himself in those liberties either of speech or action,which Lovelace thought shameful, was so far a worse man than Lovelace.For this reason he is every where made to treat jests on sacred thingsand subjects, even down to the mythology of the Pagans, among Pagans, asundoubted marks of the ill-breeding of the jester; obscene images andtalk, as liberties too shameful for even rakes to allow themselves in;and injustice to creditors, and in matters of Meum and Tuum, as what itwas beneath him to be guilty of.
Some have objected to the meekness, to the tameness, as they will have itto be, of Mr. Hickman's character. And yet Lovelace owns, that he roseupon him with great spirit in the interview between them; once, when hethought a reflection was but implied on Miss Howe;* and another time,when he imagined himself treated contemptuously.** Miss Howe, it must beowned, (though not to the credit of her own character,) treats himludicrously on several occasions. But so she does her mother. Andperhaps a lady of her lively turn would have treated as whimsically anyman but a Lovelace. Mr. Belford speaks of him with honour andrespect.*** So does Colonel Morden.**** And so does Clarissa on everyoccasion. And all that Miss Howe herself says of him, tends more to hisreputation than discredit,***** as Clarissa indeed tells her.******
* See Vol. VII. Letter XXVIII.** Ibid.*** Ibid. Letter XLVIII.**** See Letter XLVI. of this volume.***** See Vol. II. Letter II. and Vol. III. Letter XL.****** See Vol. II. Letter XI.
And as to Lovelace's treatment of him, the reader must have observed,that it was his way to treat every man with contempt, partly by way ofself-exaltation, and partly to gratify the natural gaiety of hisdisposition. He says himself to Belford,* 'Thou knowest I love him not,Jack; and whom we love not, we cannot allow a merit to; perhaps not themerit they should be granted.' 'Modest and diffident men,' writesBelford, to Lovelace, in praise of Mr. Hickman, 'wear not soon off thoselittle precisenesses, which the confident, if ever they had them,presently get over.'**
* See Vol. VII. Letter XXVIII.** Ibid. Letter XLVIII.
But, as Miss Howe treats her mother as freely as she does her lover; sodoes Mr. Lovelace take still greater liberties with Mr. Belford than hedoes with Mr. Hickman, with respect to his person, air, and address, asMr. Belford himself hints to Mr. Hickman.* And yet is he not so readilybelieved to the discredit of Mr. Belford, by the ladies in general, as heis when he disparages Mr. Hickman. Whence can this particularity arise?
* See Letter XXXVI. of this volume.
Mr. Belford had been a rake: but was in a way of reformation.
Mr. Hickman had always been a good man.
And Lovelace confidently says, That the women love a man whose regard for them is founded in the knowledge of them.*
* See Vol. V. Letter XVIII.
Nevertheless, it must be owned, that it was not purposed to draw Mr.Hickman, as the man of whom the ladies in general were likely to be veryfond. Had it been so, goodness of heart, and gentleness of manners,great assiduity, and inviolable and modest love, would not of themselveshave been supposed sufficient recommendations. He would not have beenallowed the least share of preciseness or formality, although thosedefects might have been imputed to his reverence for the object of hispassion; but in his character it was designed to show, that the same mancould not be every thing; and to intimate to ladies, that in choosingcompanions for life, they should rather prefer the honest heart of aHickman, which would be all their own, than to risk the chance ofsharing, perhaps with scores, (and some of those probably the mostprofligate of the sex,) the volatile mischievous one of a Lovelace: inshort, that they should choose, if they wished for durable happiness, forrectitude of mind, and not for speciousness of person or address; normake a jest of a good man in favour of a bad one, who would make a jestof them and of their whole sex.
Two letters, however, by way of accommodation, are inserted in thisedition, which perhaps will give Mr. Hickman's character some heighteningwith such ladies as love spirit in a man; and had rather suffer by it,than not meet with it.--
Women, born to be controul'd, Stoop to the forward and the bold,
Says Waller--and Lovelace too!
Some have wished that the story had been told in the usual narrative wayof telling stories designed to amuse and divert, and not in letterswritten by the respective persons whose history is given in them. Theauthor thinks he ought not to prescribe to the taste of others; butimagined himself at liberty to follow his own. He perhaps mistrusted histalents for the narrative kind of writing. He had the good fortune tosucceed in the epistolary way once before. A story in which so manypersons were concerned either principally or collaterally, and ofcharacters and dispositions so various, carried on with tolerableconnection and perspicuity, in a series of letters from differentpersons, without the aid of digressions and episodes foreign to theprincipal end and design, he thought had novelty to be pleaded for it;and that, in the present age, he supposed would not be a slightrecommendation.
Besides what has been said above, and in the Preface, on this head, thefollowing opinion of an ingenious and candid foreigner, on this manner ofwriting, may not be improperly inserted here.
'The method which the author had pursued in the History of Clarissa, isthe same as in the Life of Pamela: both are related in familiar lettersby the parties themselves, at the very time in which the events happened:and this method has given the author great advantages, which he could nothave drawn from any other species of narration. The minute particularsof events, the sentiments and conversation of the parties, are, upon thisplan, exhibited with all the warmth and spirit that the passion supposedto be predominant at the very time could produce, and with all thedistinguishing characteristics which memory can supply in a history ofrecent transactions.
'Romances in general, and Marivaux's amongst others, are whollyimprobable; because they suppose the History to be written after theseries of events is closed by the catastrophe: a circumstance whichimplies a strength of memory beyond all example and probability in thepersons concerned, enabling them, at the distance of sev
eral years, torelate all the particulars of a transient conversation: or rather, itimplies a yet more improbable confidence and familiarity between allthese persons and the author.
'There is, however, one difficulty attending the epistolary method; forit is necessary that all the characters should have an uncommon taste forthis kind of conversation, and that they should suffer no event, not evena remarkable conversation to pass, without immediately committing it towriting. But for the preservation of the letters once written, theauthor has provided with great judgment, so as to render thiscircumstance highly probable.'*
* This quotation is translated from a CRITIQUE on the HISTORY OFCLARISSA, written in French, and published at Amsterdam. The wholeCritique, rendered into English, was inserted in the Gentleman's Magazineof June and August, 1749. The author has done great honour in it to theHistory of Clarissa; and as there are Remarks published with it, whichanswer several objections made to different passages in the story by thatcandid foreigner, the reader is referred to the aforesaid Magazine forboth.
It is presumed that what this gentleman says of the difficultiesattending a story thus given in the epistolary manner of writing, willnot be found to reach the History before us. It is very well accountedfor in it, how the two principal female characters came to take so greata delight in writing. Their subjects are not merely subjects ofamusement; but greatly interesting to both: yet many ladies there are whonow laudably correspond, when at distance from each other, on occasionsthat far less affect their mutual welfare and friendships, than thosetreated of by these ladies. The two principal gentlemen had motives ofgaiety and vain-glory for their inducements. It will generally be found,that persons who have talents for familiar writing, as thesecorrespondents are presumed to have, will not forbear amusing themselveswith their pens on less arduous occasions than what offer to these.These FOUR, (whose stories have a connection with each other,) out of thegreat number of characters who are introduced in this History, are onlyeminent in the epistolary way: the rest appear but as occasional writers,and as drawn in rather by necessity than choice, from the differentrelations in which they stand with the four principal persons.
The length of the piece has been objected to by some, who perhaps lookedupon it as a mere novel or romance; and yet of these there are notwanting works of equal length.
They were of opinion, that the story moved too slowly, particularly inthe first and second volumes, which are chiefly taken up with thealtercations between Clarissa and the several persons of her family.
But is it not true, that those altercations are the foundation of thewhole, and therefore a necessary part of the work? The letters andconversations, where the story makes the slowest progress, are presumedto be characteristic. They give occasion, likewise, to suggest manyinteresting personalities, in which a good deal of the instructionessential to a work of this nature is conveyed. And it will, moreover,be remembered, that the author, at his first setting out, apprized thereader, that the story (interesting as it is generally allowed to be) wasto be principally looked upon as the vehicle to the instruction.
To all which we may add, that there was frequently a necessity to be verycircumstantial and minute, in order to preserve and maintain that air ofprobability, which is necessary to be maintained in a story designed torepresent real life; and which is rendered extremely busy and active bythe plots and contrivances formed and carried on by one of the principalcharacters.
Some there are, and ladies too! who have supposed that the excellenciesof the heroine are carried to an improbable, and even to animpracticable, height in this history. But the education of Clarissa,from early childhood, ought to be considered as one of her very greatadvantages; as, indeed, the foundation of all her excellencies: and, itis to be hoped, for the sake of the doctrine designed to be inculcated byit, that it will.
She had a pious, a well-read, a not meanly-descended woman for her nurse,who with her milk, as Mrs. Harlowe says,* gave her that nurture which noother nurse could give her. She was very early happy in theconversation-visits of her learned and worthy Dr. Lewen, and in hercorrespondencies, not with him only, but with other divines mentioned inher last will. Her mother was, upon the whole, a good woman, who didcredit to her birth and fortune; and both delighted in her for thoseimprovements and attainments which gave her, and them in her, adistinction that caused it to be said, that when she was out of thefamily it was considered but as a common family.** She was, moreover, acountry lady; and, as we have seen in Miss Howe's character of her,***took great delight in rural and household employments; though qualifiedto adorn the brightest circle.
* See Vol. IV. Letter XXVIII.** See her mother's praises of her to Mrs. Norton, Vol. I. Letter XXXIX.*** See Letter LV. of this volume.
It must be confessed that we are not to look for Clarissa's name amongthe constant frequenters of Ranelagh and Vauxhall, nor among those whomay be called Daughters of the card-table. If we do, the character ofour heroine may then, indeed, only be justly thought not improbable, butunattainable. But we have neither room in this place, nor inclination,to pursue a subject so invidious. We quit it, therefore, after we haverepeated that we know there are some, and we hope there are many, in theBritish dominions, (or they are hardly any where in the European world,)who, as far as occasion has called upon them to exert the like humble andmodest, yet steady and useful, virtues, have reached the perfections of aClarissa.
Having thus briefly taken notice of the most material objections thathave been made to different parts of this history, it is hoped we may beallowed to add, that had we thought ourselves at liberty to give copiesof some of the many letters that have been written on the other side ofthe question, that is to say, in approbation of the catastrophe, and ofthe general conduct and execution of the work, by some of the mosteminent judges of composition in every branch of literature; most of whathas been written in this Postscript might have been spared.
But as the principal objection with many has lain against the length ofthe piece, we shall add to what we have said above on that subject, inthe words of one of those eminent writers: 'That if, in the historybefore us, it shall be found that the spirit is duly diffused throughout;that the characters are various and natural; well distinguished anduniformly supported and maintained; if there be a variety of incidentssufficient to excite attention, and those so conducted as to keep thereader always awake! the length then must add proportionably to thepleasure that every person of taste receives from a well-drawn pictureof nature. But where the contrary of all these qualities shock theunderstanding, the extravagant performance will be judged tedious, thoughno longer than a fairy-tale.'
FINIS
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