The Clarissa Project

Final thought

2008-05-10T17:28:00.000-07:00

Again while doing some reading relating to Clarissa, I found an article that peaked my interest. It comments on or covers in some depth several of the ideas we brought up in class and the ideas that were most controversial for Richardson.
The article gives examples of readers' response to the novel' lack of poetical justice and offers explanations in Richardson's own words of what he thought of poetical justice and whether or not it was relevant to the type this particular novel.
In addition the article also suggested that Richardson disliked the emotional response and the attachment readers formed to the fictional characters. Most importantly he was not interested in invoking any emotional response simply more concerned with conveying the overall lesson of virtue. The author also goes into detail about why Richardson knew Clarissa must die and what he hoped to gain through her death, In addition it also illustrates Richardson's need to make this novel as different from Pamela as possible. To show a different type of reward for virtue even at the cost of his readers' disappointment

My favorite tidbit of information is a quotation which states "For it was not through the force of Clarissa's death that he intended to move readers to virtue. Rather Richardson wanted to emphasize the pointedly less emotive reformation of Clarissa's first reader , Clarissa's chosen editor, and Richardson's envisioned male hero, John Belford."

anyway a very informative article overall and includes letters from readers and Richardson's views on tragedy and how he related his novel to a more modern style of tragedy.
If EVER you are interested in reading more about points we left open in class this article helps resolve some questions (at least foe me) so I hope you check it out even if it is just a glimpse.

Adam Budd-author
Why Clarissa Must Die:Richardson's Tragedy and Editorial Heroism -title
Project Muse -available via search on clio

Going postal

2008-05-03T12:41:00.000-07:00

Richardson makes an appearance amidst John Mullan's thoughts on a recent epistolary novel by Lionel Shriver.

Richardson in Death

2008-04-24T10:06:00.000-07:00

Considering Clarissa's concern for her own death, I was intrigued by Samuel Richardson's fascination with his death and burial. Though it appears his tombstone has been rubbed to the point of illegibility, these pictures indicate a simplicity of design. The last picture is actually of a Massachusetts man, Samuel Richardson, whose headstone is more ornate. It is merely offered in contrast.

Richardson in Polite Conversation

2008-04-24T09:45:00.000-07:00

I thought you all might be interested in an article concerning Richardson in a book of Eighteenth Century "Table Talk."

What's in a name?

2008-04-22T21:52:00.000-07:00

I thought since I may have missed a posting in the past, I would make up for it with an extended post today. Here I'm hoping to perhaps flesh out some more possible ideas on names, identity, and psychoanalysis that I raised in the presentation today.

Ian Watt, in particular, is useful in understanding more broadly the significance of naming in Clarissa. The Rise of the Novel's introduction is interesting in how it suggests that the novel presents a sharp break with literary history when it comes to names:

Characters in previous forms of literature were usually given proper names; but the kind of names actually used showed that the author was not trying to establish his characters as completely individualised entities...The early novelists, however, made an extremely significant break with tradition, and named their characters in such a ways as to suggest that they were to be regarded as particular individuals in the contemporary social environment. (25)

The second argument that I find compelling is the use of names as they relate to the titles of novels, and the argument on sexual inequality. From "The Naming of Characters in Defoe and Others":

The use of a single, Christian name for women, but of a full name for men is part of a tacit discrimination between the sexes which is traditional in the novel, and which is reflected in the traditional novel-title. Against Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones, Sir Charles Grandison, Tristram Shandy, Roderick Random, we can set Pamela, Clarissa, Amelia, Evelina, Emma. (333)

What I'm also interested in thinking about--in addition to the way that names say something about the novel itself--is also how the name points to a certain confusion of identity, and how that is linked to the epistolary form of the novel. Many critical scholars--particularly Terry Castle and Stephanie Fysh--suggest that the materiality and form of the novel intervenes in the "illusion of realism" that Richardson achieves. In other words, there versimilitude of reality seems to work on a closed-circuit, and the formal quirks of the novel (Paper X, the signatures that are not signatures), this reality is laid bare as illusion for the reader. This may be what Lacan would refer to as a méconaissance--a misrecognition of the self and of reality itself. Following this psychoanalytic strain, I would suggest as a secondary source, Slavoj Zizek's Enjoy Your Symptom! Jacques Lacan in Hollywood and Out. In the first chapter he suggests why the recipient of a letter always recognizes himself as the addressee of a letter; in other words, the recipient uses to letter to "misrecognize himself", and the letter is essential in constituting individual identity. Unsurprisingly, the first chapter is titled: "Why does a letter always reach its destination?" and in it, he writes of the letter recipient:

I don't recognize myself in it because I'm its addressee, I become its addressee the moment I recognize myself in it. This is the reason why a letter always reaches its addressee: because one becomes its addressee when one is reached. The Derridean reproach that a letter can also miss its addressee is beside the point: it makes sense only insofar as I presuppose that I can be its addressee before the letter reaches me--in other words, it presupposes the traditional teleological trajectory with a preordained goal. (12)

Whew. Well, hopefully I didn't get too far off course with this posting, and hopefully raised a few more ideas to consider when it comes to letters, names, addressees, reality, and identification.

Mementos of death - storing locks of hair

2008-04-15T11:13:00.001-07:00

Mementos of Death
Here is a link illustrating the various Memento objects Professor Davidson mentioned in class.
18th century memento rings, bracelets, brooches etc of the 18th C. Some hold hair, pictures or other items to remember loved ones. The imagery illustrated on the jewelry and some of the other objects is associated with death during the 18th century, especially that of the skeleton or bones. A good resource for pictures and to get an idea about what we discussed last class prior to the class on April 15th

http://www.artofmourning.com/rings.html

Passages for class today

2008-04-15T08:13:00.001-07:00

The most poetical topic in the world

2008-04-13T11:07:00.000-07:00

From Edgar Allen Poe, "Philosophy of Composition":

Now, never losing sight of the object-supremeness or perfection at all points, I asked myself-"Of all melancholy topics what, according to the universal understanding of mankind, is the most melancholy?" Death, was the obvious reply. "And when," I said, "is this most melancholy of topics most poetical?" From what I have already explained at some length the answer here also is obvious-"When it most closely allies itself to Beauty: the death then of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world, and equally is it beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such topic are those of a bereaved lover."

Passages and topics for today's discussion

2008-04-08T10:57:00.000-07:00

REVISED 4/9/08: The evolving relationship between logos, ethos, pathos

2008-04-08T10:07:00.000-07:00

During our last meeting, we talked about how Richardson uses Clarissa to think through the relationship between logos, ethos, and pathos. Richardson's attempts to negotiate the relationship between these three modes of persuasion (which have their roots in the rhetorical tradition) is part of a very long literary tradition that runs from Aristotle's Poetics/Rhetoric to Edward Young's Conjectures on Original Composition (which was actually addressed to Richardson) and beyond. In thinking over this tradition, I tried to sort out what theorists might have had the greatest impact on Richardson's understanding of ethos-logos-pathos. I took a class on recurrent themes in the history of literary criticism and chose a couple of the works that I thought would be most valuable to someone interested in exploring why Richardson may have chosen to work through logos-ethos-pathos the way that he does.

Longinus, On Sublimity
At a time when philosophers and rhetoricians were focused on the balanced relationship between logos-ethos-pathos established by Aristotle's Rhetoric, Longinus touted the predominance of pathos. Longinus was turned off by the hyper-stylized nature of oratory, and he believed that a truly great writer could achieve sublimity in his writing primarily through pathos, or the writer's rendering of great thoughts and strong emotions. Of course, the rendering of pathos required eloquent logos, but logos was a vehicle for pathos.
On Sublimity had a major comeback in the mid-18th century after it was translated from the Greek into English in the 1730s. It brought the notion of greatness into 18th-century intellectual thought, and the notion was taken up in Mark Akenside's Pleasures of the Imagination, Joseph Addison and Richard Steele's The Spectator (in the imagination essays), and Edward Young's Night Thoughts. Richardson was most definitely exposed to these works in one form or another, so it might be interesting to more closely examine his take on pathos/the sublime.

Cicero, De Oratore
Unlike Aristotle and his Greek predecessors, Cicero championed logos over ethos and pathos. His five pillars of rhetoric (invention, arrangement, style, memory, delivery) were all concerned with the ways in which one orders one's speech to suit one's audience and achieve one's goal (his careful attention to language is not unlike Richardson's).
Cicero enjoyed a resurgence in popularity in the 16th century when Desiderius Erasmus (who enjoyed his own resurgence in popularity as a cultural symbol of the Enlightenment period) translated his works from the Greek into English. The English translations were immensely popular and had a great impact on late 17th, early 18th-century English culture. They were compulsory reading in English primary schools, and it is quite possible that Richardson got a healthy dosage of Ciceronian rhetorical values at a young age.

St. Augustine, On Christian Doctrine
St. Augustine was the first theorist to suggest that the ethos of the writer, rather than the ethos of the characters within the work or the ethos of the audience (which was established by Aristotle in Poetics and Rhetoric), was crucial to the success of a work. The idea that a virtuous writer is a successful writer may have filtered down to Richardson, who most definitely examines the relationship between the ethos of the writer and the writer's command over logos throughout his novel. Interestingly enough, Erasmus also translated Augustinian works.

Alexander Pope, An Essay on Criticism
Edward Young, Conjectures on Original Composition
These last two works are necessary to any understanding of 18th-century criticism, and while I can't remember any explicit conversations about logos-ethos-pathos, there are definitely great things in here that give a sense of the literary values of the age.

If I think of more works or if someone is interested in this topic, I'll be sure to post!

Some thoughts on criticism

2008-04-08T06:58:00.000-07:00

There is a very large volume of excellent critical work on Clarissa, and these remarks are intended only as a preliminary guide to some things that touch upon issues we've discussed recently in class. You can use the bibliography I handed round at the beginning of class as a guide to some of what's out there; other starting points include keyword searches in JSTOR and Project Muse or indeed in CLIO. Indexes and notes or bibliographies in critical books can also be very useful--something that doesn't speak directly to the critical issues you're interested in may still be useful in terms of directing you to works that offer significant help.

Something we haven't talked about much involves the multiple editions of Richardson's fictions, and the effects and implications of his practice of revising following initial publication. We also haven't really considered what Richardson's correspondence reveals, either about his practice and intentions as a novelist or about his understanding of the nature of the familiar letter. Peter Sabor's and Tom Keymer's essays in the Approaches to Teaching Richardson volume offer useful starting points for considering these questions.

On Job and the form of the "meditation," Gabrielle Starr's discussion in Lyric Generations and Keymer's essay in the collection of essays edited by Sabor and Margaret Doody are also good starting points.

Keymer's Richardson's Clarissa and the Eighteenth-Century Reader is probably my single favorite critical book on Richardson, and is a mine of information and ideas about everything related to the novel!

Cynthia Wall's book on descriptive language, The Prose of Things, would be a good way into thinking about realism and literary technique. I have a chapter on Pamela-Shamela in my book about hypocrisy, and you could look there if you're interested in the ways that Richardson constructs arguments by allowing characters to give voice to positions that are then complicated or clarified by the way they are set into the narrative as a whole.

Leah Price published an essay on Richardson and offers more extended discussion in The Anthology and the Rise of the Novel of different practices of reading--skimming, skipping--as they are encouraged by the material forms of a novel's publication.

Joe Bray's introduction to the book on the epistolary novel is useful in terms of bibliography and laying out some important ideas about first- and third-person voice, consciousness and the novel; the critical literature on epistolarity is huge, so use common sense about how much to look at and what you really need for your essay! Terry Castle's book on Clarissa's ciphers is well worth a look if you are interested in questions concerning language and the production of identity.

I will give you in class today an essay by Siobhan Kilfeather that offers a summary of the state of Richardson criticism from the perspective of the late 1980s--it will give you a good sense of the earlier critical literature that's out there and which books might be of interest.

Clarissa the Casuist...is she justified?

2008-04-06T18:01:00.000-07:00

When Clarissa writes the letter that sends Lovelace flying down to Berkshire to await her next post, we readers can hardly believe she would deceive him (L. 421.1, page 1233). Unfortunately for Lovelace, Clarissa remains in London, preparing to die and go to her Father in heaven rather than her Mr. Harlowe in England. This dissimulation seems uncharacteristic of Clarissa, even though we know she is loathe to put herself in this situation again.

I found an outside source particularly helpful when attempting to find out if Clarissa's letter could be justified or if Lovelace could rightly accuse her of lying-Perez Zagorin's Ways of Lying: Dissimulation, Persecution and Conformity in Early Modern Europe.

[Note: Above, I termed Clarissa's behavior as "dissimulation," but in Ways of Lying, Zagorin distinguishes between "dissimulation" and "simulation," saying "dissimulation is pretending not to be what one actually is, whereas simulation is pretending to be what one actually is not" (3). If we apply Zagorin's distinction to Clarissa's letter to Lovelace, we might say she simulates more than she dissimulates, for she implies she is going somewhere she is actually not, although her language is such that even that implication might be interpreted multiple ways.]

Lovelace's rage upon discovery of the letter's equivocation implies he does not allow any justification for Clarissa's simulation. Scholars, religious authorities, and moral philosophers of the time might differ, however.

Lovelace often refers to casuistry as an argumentative method for purposes of persuasion, but Zagorin offers clarification about the dual connotations of casuistry.

(1) As a science, "casuistry consists in application of the general rules of morality to concrete situations in which the particular circumstances involve conflicting duties and create doubt or confusion as to what is right or licit to do," but

(2) "casuistry has been widely regarded as a species of ingenious and plausible reasoning designed to circumvent some rule of moral conduct" (153-4).

Approaches to casuistry that Zagorin mentions are noted here as working definitions that can be transferred to L. 421.1 (1233) in Clarissa:

probabilism: "Probabilism...held that in a situation of doubt it was licit to follow a less or the least probable opinion" (161) "[probabilism] served as a higher-order principle within the realm of casuistry to license the acceptability of other opinions on all aspects of moral duties...it enabled people to act in any matter simply by following the opinion of an approved authority" (163)

mental reservation: "false statement completed by an unexpressed addition in the mind which made it true" (163)

equivocation: "use of words or expressions with a double meaning different for the speaker than for the hearer" (163)

If we transfer the definitions of these facets of casuistry to Richardson's Clarissa, it is clear that Lovelace employs the liberties afforded by probabilism and mental reservation (he always seems ready to marry Clarissa yet preconditions or adverse situations somehow prevent the ceremony), whereas Clarissa uses equivocation in L. 421.1. Both can be described as casuists, yet it is Lovelace who utilizes the tactics that contribute to casuistry's derogatory connotation.

Now, is she justified? Indeed, Clarissa's letter appears substantiated by both Catholic and Protestant perspectives on casuistry. The "exercises in casuistry" at a Catholic seminary reviewed the practice of equivocation and allowed that "the resulting deceit would rest not with the respondent but with the questioner[i.e. Lovelace], who by taking the answer in his own sense deceived himself" (Ways of Lying 187). As a further vindication of Clarissa's word choice, Zagorin actually references Ductor Dubitantium by Jeremy Taylor, whose Holy Living is one of the books Clarissa reads, for Taylor's allowance of lying in specific situations, namely when dealing with "children and madmen, or for the sake of charity and to save the life of a neighbor, friend, or public person" (249). [Could Lovelace not be considered a child? Is he exempt from the label "madman"? Does Clarissa not write this letter for her own charity, to save her own life?] It is as if Clarissa had perfectly comprehended and then exercised Taylor's guidelines regarding casuistry, for she even adheres to his stipulation that "a guilty person [is] obliged to admit the truth if interrogated justly" when she readily admits to Belford of the ambiguity in her letter and hopes that "I have not taken an inexcusable step" (Clarissa 1247).

*For further discussion: Views about the use of and even the legitimacy of casuistry cannot be categorized as Catholic or Protestant, since the interpretations of casuistry depend largely on the individual theologian or religious authority. Certain trends nonetheless exist, such as the affirmation of equivocation over mental reservation by several Protestants (i.e. Taylor) or the predominance of mental reservation in certain persecuted Catholic sects (i.e. the Jesuits). If we see the authorial persona in Clarissa as favoring Clarissa's equivocation over Lovelace's mental reservations, could that be a subtle attempt on Richardson's part to offer commentary of his own about his side in the Protestantism/Catholicism debate?*

Passages for class today (letters 316-382, pp. 1014-1168)

2008-04-01T10:45:00.001-07:00

Passages for class today

2008-03-25T10:28:00.000-07:00

(Because a sudden glimmer of realism made me see that if I don't put them up right this minute, they almost certainly won't go up till this time next week!...)

Bits and bobs for annotation

2008-03-25T09:33:00.000-07:00

Some things that caught my eye as worthy of further exploration/annotation:

The list of books at the bottom of p. 525

Smallpox (p. 659)

Private marriages (p. 668 and elsewhere)

Breast-feeding (p. 706)

"internuncioship" (p. 731)

The mechanics of keys, locks and keyholes in this period (p. 739)

Richardson's use of "indices" (p. 743)

"Clocked stockings" (p. 766)

Chancery (p. 784)

"Elopement" - the word and the practice (p. 804)

Tacit consent (p. 845)

"Private vices, public benefits" and Bernard Mandeville's works and reputation (p. 847)

Marriage licenses (p. 871)

Witches and demonology (p. 924)

Passages from class before the break

2008-03-25T09:30:00.000-07:00

Apologies for taking so long to get this up.

Stendhal's Crystallized Nut

2008-03-24T22:41:00.000-07:00

This is kind of a useless post, but some might find it amusing, I hope. Near the end of Stendhal's autobiography (Chap. 38), The Life of Henry Brulard, Stendhal writes about how he hates Paris, especially its cuisine. He has a pithy explanation for his dislike of the Parisian cuisine: "It was the moral constraint which was killing me." Then he goes on -

"Consider the full extent of my unhappiness! I who believed myself to be at once a Saint-Preux and a Valmont (in Les Liaisons dangereuses, an imitation of Clarissa which has become the breviary of the provincials), I who, believing myself to have an infinite capacity for loving and being loved, believed that the opportunity alone was lacking... I had pictured society to myself solely and utterly in terms of the Memoires secrets of Duclos, the three or seven volumes of St-Simon published at that time and novels."

He goes on. And incredibly, despite his complaint about going out to "society," it seems that Stendhal actually met the woman after whom Mme de Merteuil of Les Liaisons dangereuses was conceived!

"I had met with society, and then only at long range, only at Mme de Montmaur's, the original of Mme de Merteuil in Les Liaisons dangereuses. She was by then old, rich and lame. Of that I am sure; as for morality, she objected to them giving me only half a crystallized nut when I went to see her in Le Chevallon, she always made them give me a whole one. 'Children take it to heart so," she used to say... This detail about Mme de Montmaur, the original of Mme de Merteuil, is out of place here perhaps, but I wanted to use the anecdote of the crystallized nut to show what I knew of society."

It's bizarre, this anecdote about the crystallized nut. Funny, too. But there's also something tricky & profound in this anecdote of the crystallized nut, in Mme de Montmaur/Mme de Merteuil's insistence on "them" giving Stendhal a whole crystallized nut. I haven't unraveled it yet, but it seems that Stendhal is trying to say something about art & love. How would this apply to Clarissa, or Les Liaisons, if at all? No idea yet. I'm just rambling so far.

But the notion of "crystallization" is a pivotal idea in Stendhal's aesthetics. It first appears in Stendhal's Love, another autobiographical/essayistic book about his unrequited love for a woman named Mathilde Dembowski. In Chapter 2 of Love, Stendhal describes a couple of lovers throwing a twig into the salt mines of Salzburg -

"Two or three months later they pull it out covered with a shining deposit of crystals. The smallest twig, no bigger than a tom-tit's claw, is studded with a galaxy of scintillating diamonds. The original branch is no longer recognizable... What I have called crystallization is a mental process which draws from everything that happens new proofs of the perfection of the loved one."

Simply put: it's seeing your loved one everywhere, in everything. Then through the process, an ordinary person (a twig) becomes perfected in the lover's eyes (as crystals). But Stendhal extends this metaphor into his theories on art & on literature... the process of making art, too, the evocative power of the artist, is a crystallization according to Stendhal. In a weirdly related manner, Sir Thomas Browne's Garden of Cyrus is literally about this process of crystallization: his crystal is the quincunx, a perfect shape which could be found in all animate and inanimate things, which reflects the perfect design of God. In our own times, the late German writer W. G. Sebald would obsess about the crystals (mentions both Browne & Stendhal's crystals) extensively throughout his works.

I'm going to think about this further and see how it relates to Les Liaisons specifically, and maybe to Clarissa, as Stendhal mentions both by name.

How do you crack a crystallized nut? (Sorry for the poor joke.)

Familial Duty and Duty to parents

2008-03-22T15:35:00.000-07:00

Mary Wolstonecraft A Vindication of the Rights of Women. http://etext.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=WolVind.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=12&division=div1

After reading this in political philosophy I re-read it recently and found it was particularly relevant to our discussion of Clarissa's sense of duty to her family. Because Clarissa has such a strong sense of familial duty, I wondered how many women felt compelled to have the same sense of duty to their parents and to what extent. Because Mary Wolstonecraft was an educated female writing during the 18th century I found her words relevant to our discussion. Below you will find the section on parental duty contained in A Vindication of the Rights of Women. Written only 50 years or so after Clarissa

Duty to Parents.

There seems to be an indolent propensity in man to make prescription always take place of reason, and to place every duty on an arbitrary foundation. The rights of kings are deduced in a direct line from the King of kings; and that of parents from our first parent.

Why do we thus go back for principles that should always rest on the same base, and have the same weight to-day that they had a thousand years ago-and not a jot more? If parents discharge their duty they have a strong hold and sacred claim on the gratitude of their children; but few parents are willing to receive the respectful affection of their offspring on such terms. They demand blind obedience, because they do not merit a reasonable service: and to render these demands of weakness and ignorance more binding, a mysterious sanctity is spread round the most arbitrary principle; for what other name can be given to the blind duty of obeying vicious or weak beings merely because they obeyed a powerful instinct?

The simple definition of the reciprocal duty, which naturally subsists between parent and child, may be given in a few words: The parent who pays proper attention to helpless infancy has a right to require the same attention when the feebleness of age comes upon him. But to subjugate a rational being to the mere will of another, after he is of age to answer to society for his own conduct, is a most cruel and undue stretch of power; and, perhaps, as injurious to morality as those religious systems which do not allow right and wrong to have any existence, but in the Divine will.

I never knew a parent who had paid more than common attention to his children, disregarded;⁶² on the contrary, the early habit of relying almost implicitly on the opinion of a respected parent is not easily shook, even when matured reason convinces the child that his father is not the wisest man in the world. This weakness, for a weakness it is, though the epithet amiable may be tacked to it, a reasonable man must steel himself against; for the absurd duty, too often inculcated, of obeying a parent only on account of his being a parent, shackles the mind, and prepares it for a slavish submission to any power but reason.

I distinguish between the natural and accidental duty due to parents.

The parent who sedulously endeavours to form the heart and enlarge the understanding of his child, has given that dignity to the discharge of a duty, common to the whole animal world, that only reason can give. This is the parental affection of humanity, and leaves instinctive natural affection far behind. Such a parent acquires all the rights of the most sacred friendship, and his advice, even when his child is advanced in life, demands serious consideration.

With respect to marriage, though after one and twenty a parent seems to have no right to withhold his consent on any account; yet twenty years of solicitude call for a return, and the son ought, at least, to promise not to marry for two or three years, should the object of his choice not entirely meet with the approbation of his first friend.

But, respect for parents is, generally speaking, a much more debasing principle; it is only a selfish respect for property. The father who is blindly obeyed, is obeyed from sheer weakness, or from motives that degrade the human character.

A great proportion of the misery that wanders, in hideous forms, around the world, is allowed to rise from the negligence of parents; and still these are the people who are most tenacious of what they term a natural right, though it be subversive of the birth-right of man, the right of acting according to the direction of his own reason.

I have already very frequently had occasion to observe, that vicious or indolent people are always eager to profit by enforcing arbitrary privileges; and, generally, in the same proportion as they neglect the discharge of the duties which alone render the privileges reasonable. This is at the bottom a dictate of common sense, or the instinct of self-defence, peculiar to ignorant weakness; resembling that instinct, which makes a fish muddy the water it swims in to elude its enemy, instead of boldly facing it in the clear stream.

From the clear stream of argument, indeed, the supporters of prescription, of every denomination, fly; and, taking refuge in the darkness, which, in the language of sublime poetry, has been supposed to surround the throne of Omnipotence, they dare to demand that implicit respect which is only due to His unsearchable ways. But, let me not be thought presumptuous, the darkness which bides our God from us, only respects speculative truths-it never obscures moral ones, they shine clearly, for God is light, and never, by the constitution of our nature, requires the discharge of a duty, the reasonableness of which does not beam on us when we open our eyes.

The indolent parent of high rank may, it is true, extort a shew of respect from his child, and females on the continent are particularly subject to the views of their families, who never think of consulting their inclination, or providing for the comfort of the poor victims of their pride. The consequence is notorious; these dutiful daughters become adulteresses, and neglect the education of their children, from whom they, in their turn, exact the same kind of obedience.

Females, it is true, in all countries, are too much under the dominion of their parents; and few parents think of addressing their children in the following manner, though it is in this reasonable way that Heaven seems to command the whole human race. It is your interest to obey me till you can judge for yourself; and the Almighty Father of all has implanted an affection in me to serve as a guard to you whilst your reason is unfolding; but when your mind arrives at maturity, you must only obey me, or rather respect my opinions, so far as they coincide with the light that is breaking in on your own mind.

A slavish bondage to parents cramps every faculty of the mind; and Mr. Locke very judiciously observes, that 'if the mind be curbed and humbled too much in children; if their spirits be abased and broken much by too strict an hand over them; they lose all their vigour and industry.' This strict hand may in some degree account for the weakness of women; for girls, from various causes, are more kept down by their parents, in every sense of the word, than boys. The duty expected from them is, like all the duties arbitrarily imposed on women, more from a sense of propriety, more out of respect for decorum, than reason; and thus taught slavishly to submit to their parents, they are prepared for the slavery of marriage. I may be told that a number of women are not slaves in the marriage state. True, but they then become tyrants; for it is not rational freedom, but a lawless kind of power resembling the authority exercised by the favourites of absolute monarchs, which they obtain by debasing means. I do not, likewise, dream of insinuating that either boys or girls are always slaves, I only insist that when they are obliged to submit to authority blindly, their faculties are weakened, and their tempers rendered imperious or abject. I also lament that parents, indolently availing themselves of a supposed privilege, damp the first faint glimmering of reason, rendering at the same time the duty, which they are so anxious to enforce, an empty name; because they will not let it rest on the only basis on which a duty can rest securely: for unless it be founded on knowledge, it cannot gain sufficient strength to resist the squalls of passion, or the silent sapping of self-love. But it is not the parents who have given the surest proof of their affection for their children, or, to speak more properly, who by fulfilling their duty, have allowed a natural parental affection to take root in their hearts, the child of exercised sympathy and reason, and not the over-weening offspring of selfish pride, who most vehemently insist on their children submitting to their will merely because it is their will. On the contrary, the parent, who sets a good example, patiently lets that example work; and it seldom fails to produce its natural effect-filial reverence.

Children cannot be taught too early to submit to reason, the true definition of that necessity, which Rousseau insisted on, without defining it; for to submit to reason is to submit to the nature of things, and to that God, who formed them so, to promote our real interest.

Why should the minds of children be warped as they just begin to expand, only to favour the indolence of parents, who insist on a privilege without being willing to pay the price fixed by nature? I have before had occasion to observe, that a right always includes a duty, and I think it may, likewise, fairly be inferred, that they forfeit the right, who do not fulfil the duty.

It is easier, I grant, to command than reason; but it does not follow from hence that children cannot comprehend the reason why they are made to do certain things habitually: for, from a steady adherence to a few simple principles of conduct flows that salutary power which a judicious parent gradually gains over a child's mind. And this power becomes strong indeed, if tempered by an even display of affection brought home to the child's heart. For, I believe, as a general rule, it must be allowed that the affection which we inspire always resembles that we cultivate; so that natural affections, which have been supposed almost distinct from reason, may be found more nearly connected with judgment than is commonly allowed. Nay, as another proof of the necessity of cultivating the female understanding, it is but just to observe, that the affections seem to have a kind of animal capriciousness when they merely reside in the heart.

It is the irregular exercise of parental authority that first injures the mind, and to these irregularities girls are more subject than boys. The will of those who never allow their will to be disputed, unless they happen to be in a good humour, when they relax proportionally, is almost always unreasonable. To elude this arbitrary authority girls very early learn the lessons which they afterwards practise on their husbands; for I have frequently seen a little sharp-faced miss rule a whole family, excepting that now and then mamma's angry will burst out of some accidental cloud;-either her hair was ill dressed,⁶³ or she had lost more money at cards, the night before, than she was willing to own to her husband; or some such moral cause of anger.

After observing sallies of this kind, I have been led into a melancholy train of reflection respecting females, concluding that when their first affection must lead them astray, or make their duties clash till they rest on mere whims and customs, little can be expected from them as they advance in life. How indeed can an instructor remedy this evil? for to teach them virtue on any solid principle is to teach them to despise their parents. Children cannot, ought not, to be taught to make allowance for the faults of their parents, because every such allowance weakens the force of their parents, because every such allowance weakens the force of reason in their minds, and makes them still more indulgent to their own. It is one of the most sublime virtues of maturity that leads us to be severe with respect to ourselves, and forbearing to others; but children should only be taught the simple virtues, for if they begin too early to make allowance for human passions and manners, they wear off the fine edge of the criterion by which they should regulate their own, and become unjust in the same proportion as they grow indulgent.

The affections of children, and weak people, are always selfish; they love their relatives, because they are beloved by them, and not on account of their virtues. Yet, till esteem and love are blended together in the first affection, and reason made the foundation of the first duty, morality will stumble at the threshold. But, till society is very differently constituted, parents, I fear, will still insist on being obeyed, because they will be obeyed, and constantly endeavour to settle that power on a Divine right which will not bear the investigation of reason.

[62] Dr. Johnson makes the same observation.

[63] I myself heard a little girl once say to a servant, 'My mama has been scolding me finely this morning, because her hair was not dressed to please her.' Though this remark was pert, it was just. And what respect could a girl acquire for such a parent without doing violence to reason?

Types and Exhanges of power in Clarissa

2008-03-22T15:31:00.000-07:00

http://links.jstor.org/sici?sici=0013-8304%28197522%2942%3A2%3C214%3A%22ARTIO%3E2.0.CO%3B2-5

Just struck me as interesting

After reading an article by Elizabeth Napier titled “Tremble and Reform”: The Inversion of Power in Richardson’s Clarissa”

I was struck by the exchanges of power which take place throughout the novel. Not only do Clarissa and Lovelace exchange places of power midway through the novel, as Clarissa but the exchange of power can almost be read as a chain of people and the types of power exerted over others. However, it is not the exchanges of power which I found to be most interesting, but the idea that these exchanges of power act as catalysts for the majority of action in the novel, which is especially evident when Clarissa runs away from Lovelace and we enter the most dramatic and action packed events of the novel.

As for the types of power, each character exerts various types of power at different times throughout the novel. The two main types of power are obviously physical power and mental power. In addition if we include the letters and Richardson’s position as author/editor there is also the power of the written word.

From the beginning of the novel as Clarissa exchanges letters concerning the duel between her brother and Lovelace the reader gets the first glimpse of the exchange of physical power. As the novel continues Clarissa’s family exerts its own power over Clarissa in the form of familial duty and guilt(mental power) to try to gain her consent to marry Solmes. In addition there is the power of fear which at times becomes one of the most vital sources of power acting as a catalyst for the characters’ actions.

Throughout the rest of the novel Each character has his or her own way of gaining, losing or exerting power over others, or having the force exerted upon them. It seems that no character no matter how minute their part in the novel has a n experience with power.

While lovelace deal mostly in manipulation of the mind and physical power over Clarissa during the rape…Clarissa is mostly driven by fear. Fear of loss. Losing her virtue, her family, her reputation and above all the fear of living an unhappy life. In the of the novel it is Clarissa’s power, her fear, and her physical power(illness) which leads to her demise.

The article references several letters to look at.

113,182,339,320,289,479,493,494,415,419 – just to mention a few

Contexts

2008-03-11T10:52:00.000-07:00

There are a number of very interesting essays in the collection titled Clarissa and Her Readers: New Essays for the Clarissa Project, ed. Carol Houlihan Flynn and Edward Copeland (New York: AMS, 1999), but two that stand out as especially useful for thinking about matters in today's reading are as follows:

Juliet McMaster, "Reading the Body in Clarissa" (189-212), on theories of acting and the expression of emotions in eighteenth-century psychology

Isobel Grundy, "Seduction Pursued by Other Means? The Rape in Clarissa" (256-67), on the intellectual, legal and literary contexts for Richardson's use of the term and concept of "rape"

Connotations

2008-03-11T09:41:00.000-07:00

I was taken aback by what seemed to me an excessively sexual allusion in one of Lovelace's letters: "If thou likest her, I'll get her for thee with a wet finger, as the saying is!" (L239, 810). But when I looked it up, I found that the primary allusion is to spinning, and the spinner's habit of wetting the forefinger with the mouth. The sexual connotation is surely there, but secondary.

Les Liaisons Dangereuses Performances

2008-03-11T04:41:00.001-07:00

FATE and ERROR

2008-03-08T15:58:00.001-08:00

In the last class we discussed the terms Fate and Error as they are used in letter 178. In this letter Miss Howe states that she has often told Clarissa there is a “kind of fate in her error, if an error.”

While we discussed both terms in biblical contexts and in relation to ancient writing I thought a definition from OED would be helpful here in understanding the multiple meanings of both words.

Below is the OED definitions of Fate. As Prof Davidson stated, in the case of this particular letter and time period the term is associated with wandering from one’s path or wandering from a righteous or harmless path to something more harmful or as the definition states “devious.”In addition there are numerous terms associated with error such as erroneous which also mean harmful wandering or include in their definition the word HARM or HARMFUL.

Below the definition of Error you will find the various definitions of fate. The negative connotation of the word and its association with the evil or diabolical is not particularly surprising considering how many words are associated with the letters FATE. However, in relation to the passage from Clarissa it becomes a moment of foreshadowing or warning as Miss Howe tells Clarissa that she is once again commenting on the fact that there is a kind of absolute negative conclusion a fate of death or evil in her wandering. As she continues Miss Howe also states that “had you never erred” which can also mean not only had she not made several mistakes in judgment, but had she not wandered off her destined or harmless path then perhaps she would not be suffering. Considering Clarissa’s ultimate fate in this novel accurate definitions of both terms proved to be very helpful especially as both terms are associated with death, evil or harm.

ERROR OED

erring, ppl. a. erringly, adv. erroneosity erroneous erroneously, adv. erroneousness erronist error error, v. errorful errorious, a. errorist

I. 1. The action of roaming or wandering; hence a devious or winding course, a roving, winding. Now only poet.
The primary sense in Latin; in Fr. and Eng. it occurs only as a conscious imitation of Lat. usage.

1594 DANIEL Compl. Rosamond Wks. (1717) 50 Intricate innumerable Ways, With such confused Errors. 1610 J. GUILLIM Heraldry xvi. (1660) 201 Being by error lost, they [dogs] have refused meat. 1636 B. JONSON Discov. Wks. (ed. Rtldg.) 765 1 His error by sea, the sack of Troy, are put not as the argument of the work. 1654 R. CODRINGTON tr. Ivstine 318 But Archagathus was taken by them, who had lost his Father in the error of the night. 1667 MILTON P.L. IV. 239 The crisped Brooks, Rowling..With mazie error under pendant shades. 1673 Lady's Call. I. iv. 13. 30 [The moon] has a kind of certainty even in her planetary errors. 1743 R. BLAIR Grave 99 Where the..stream has slid along In grateful errors through the underwood. 1720 GAY Poems (1745) I. 13 If an enormous salmon chance to spy The wanton errors of the floating fly. 1872 TENNYSON Gareth & Lynette 1183 The damsel's headlong error thro' the wood.

II. 2. Chagrin, fury, vexation; a wandering of the feelings; extravagance of passion. Obs.
[A common use in OF.; cf. IROUR, a. OF. irour anger, which may have been confused with this word.]

c1320 Sir Beues 1907 Tho was Beues in strong erur. c1325 Coer de L. 5937 Kyng Richard pokyd [? o kyd] gret errour, Wrathe dede hym chaung colour. c1450 Merlin xx. 318 A-boute his herte com so grete errour that it wete all his visage with teeres of his yien. 1460 Lybeaus Disc. 1081 The lord wyth greet errour Rod hom to hys tour.

b. A mistake in the making of a thing; a miscarriage, mishap; a flaw, malformation. nature's error = lusus naturæ. Obs.

1398 TREVISA Barth. De P.R. V. i. (1495) 101 This wonderfull errour [abortion] happyth moost in shepe and geete. 1413 LYDG. Pilgr. Sowle IV. xxx. (1483) 78 Hit behoueth..that it [a statue] be fourged right withoute ony errour. 1697 DRYDEN (J.), He look'd like Nature's errour, as the mind And body were not of a piece design'd. 1791 BOSWELL Johnson (1816) I. 87 Sure, thou art an errour of nature.

1460 J. CAPGRAVE Chron. 252 The bischoppis..opened no mouth to berk ageyn these erroneous doggis. 1667 MILTON P.L. VII. 20 On th' Aleian Field I fall Erroneous, there to wander and forlorne. 1704 NEWTON Optics (1721) 91 This Circle, by being placed here, stopped much of the Erroneous Light. a1777 FAWKES tr. Halley's Eulogy on Newton, With what proportion'd force The Moon impels, erroneous in her course, The refluent main.

b. Straying from the proper course. Obs. rare.

1731 ARBUTHNOT Aliments 165 An erroneous Circulation (that is, when the Blood strays into the Vessels destin'd to carry Serum or Lymph).

2. Straying from the path of right or virtue, morally faulty, criminal. Obs. or arch.

1593 SHAKES. 3 Hen. VI, II. v. 90 What Stragems? how fell? how Butcherly? Erreoneous, mutinous, and vnnaturall. 1634 SIR T. HERBERT Trav. 55 The Prophet used to lay this stone on the shoulders of the erronious. 1777 DODD in Boswell Johnson (1848) 542 My life for some few unhappy years has been dreadfully erroneous. a1797 H. WALPOLE Mem. Geo. II (1845) I. vii. 95 The probability was, that himself had been erroneous. 1819 BYRON Juan III. xii, Shut The book which treats of this erroneous pair.

3. Straying from the ways of wisdom or prudence; under the influence of error, misguided. Obs. or arch.

1512 Act 4 Hen. VIII, c. 19 Pream., The seid Frensche kyng..abydyng in his..erronyous mynde. 1526 Pilgr. Perf. (W. de W. 1531) 55 He..sleeth by confessyon the wormes of the scrupulous and erronyous conscience. 1594 SHAKES. Rich. III, I. iv. 200 Erroneous Vassals. 1640 Lond. Petit. in Rushw. Hist. Coll. (1692) I. 94 The great encrease of..Ignorant and Erroneous Men in the Ministry. 1684 BUNYAN Pilgr. II. 64 marg., 'Tis difficult getting of good Doctrine in erroneous Times. 1685 BAXTER Paraphr. N.T. (1701) Matt. vi. 22 If thy judgment then be blind which must guide thee, what a miserable erroneous wretch wilt thou be. 1759 GOLDSMITH Miscell. Wks. (1837) III. 246 Leibnitz..being very erroneous himself, cannot be expected to have bequeathed precision to his followers. 1775 JOHNSON Tax. no Tyr. 87 That erroneous clemency. 1810 CRABBE Borough xx, And should have strengthened an erroneous heart. 1829 SOUTHEY Sir T. More I. 133 He who shows himself grievously erroneous upon one important point must look to have his opinions properly distrusted upon others.

absol.

1601 CORNWALLYES Ess. II. xxix. (1631) 42 He will never instruct the erronious for a frowning reply quailes him. 1649 Alcoran 188 God prolongeth the life of the erroneous.

FATE

Fatah, n. fatal, a. fatalism fatalist fatalistic, a. fatality fatalize, v. fatally, adv. fatalness fata Morgana fatary fatation fatch, n. fate, n. fate, v. fated, ppl. a. fateful, a.

. Of an individual, an empire, etc.: The predestined or appointed lot; what a person, etc. is fated to do or suffer.

c1374 CHAUCER Troylus v. 209 He curseth..His byrthe, hym self, his fate, and ek nature. 1559 Mirr. Mag., Dk. of Clarence lv, To flye theyr fate. 1603 B. JONSON Sejanus I. ii, How blest a fate were it to us. 1647 CLARENDON Hist. Reb. II. (1843) 57/2 By a very extraordinary fate [he had] got a very particular interest..in many worthy men. 1668 LADY CHAWORTH in 12th Rep. Hist. MSS. Comm. App. v. 10 Mr. Ho..deserves a better fate. a1717 BP. O. BLACKALL Wks. (1723) I. 25 It has been commonly their Fate to fare hardlier. 1848 MACAULAY Hist. Eng. I. 164 The general fate of sects is to obtain a high reputation for sanctity while they are oppressed. 1848 W. H. BARTLETT Egypt to Pal. iv. (1879) 68 A noteworthy comment on the fate of human pride.

c. In etymological sense: An oracle or portent of doom.

1850 MRS. BROWNING Poems II. 50 The solemn knell fell in with the tale of life and sin, Like a rhythmic fate sublime.

4. a. What will become of, or has become of (a person or thing); ultimate condition; destiny. Often in to decide, fix, seal one's fate. a fate worse than death: see DEATH n. 17b.

1768-74 TUCKER Lt. Nat. (1852) I. 584 The lover waits for the decision of his mistress to fix his fate. 1793 SMEATON Edystone L. §322 Anxiety for the fate of the Edystone. 1797 MRS. RADCLIFFE Italian xii, If she is now discovered her fate is certain. 1838 LYTTON Leila I. ii, The base misers..deserve their fate. 1841 ELPHINSTONE Hist. Ind. II. 581 It only remained to the brothers to decide on the fate of its tenant. 1856 FROUDE Hist. Eng. (1858) I. ii. 163 He was obliged to bear the..fate of a minister, who..had thwarted the popular will. 1888 BRYCE Amer. Commw. III. xc. 246 More of it may share the same fate. 1891 E. PEACOCK N. Brendon II. 142 Plumer's fate was sealed.

b. Death, destruction, ruin.

c1430 LYDG. Bochas III. xxvi. (1554) 97b, Cirus was passed into fate. 1635 SHIRLEY Coronat. IV, Will you assist, and run a fate with us. 1643 DENHAM Cooper's H. 114 In the Common Fate, The adjoyning Abby fell. 1701 ROWE Amb. Step-Moth. I. i, Thousand vulgar fates Which their Drugs daily hasten. 1852 C. M. YONGE Cameos I. xl. 345 Their fate has been well sung by Lord Houghton.

c. An instrument of death or destruction. poet.

1700 DRYDEN Iliad I. 74 He..Feather'd Fates among the Mules and Sumpters sent. 1715-20 POPE Iliad I. 68 Hissing fly the feather'd fates.

5. attrib. and Comb. a. simple attrib., as fate-spell; also fate-like adj.; b. objective, as fate-denouncing, -foretelling, -scorning ppl. adjs.; c. instrumental, as fate-environed, -fenced (implied in fate-fencedness), -folden, -furrowed, -menanced, -stricken adjs.

"Inconveniencies"

2008-03-08T11:45:00.000-08:00

As per our discussion from Tuesday, I went ahead and looked up the various meanings and suggestions of the word "inconveniency" in the OED. The word itself is a rare form of our normal understanding of inconvenience and the definitions I have derived from that entry. The two most interesting implications relating to Lovelace's discussion of the "inconveniencies of knowing too much" (639), are that of discomfort and moral compromise. The sexual suggestion remains in the notion that an "inconveniency" can be something desired that meanwhile maintains its status of an ethically questionable action. Therefore, Lovelace's argument appears to suggest that virtue can only protect itself from that which it knows is sinful.

2. Moral or ethical unsuitableness; unbecoming or unseemly behaviour; impropriety; with pl., an unseemly act, an impropriety, an offence. Obs.

4. b. with pl. An inconvenient circumstance; something that interferes with ease or comfort, or causes trouble; a disadvantage, a discomfort.

In this case, it is only the interference of virtue that causes Lovelace trouble in his seduction of Clarissa considering her knowledge of virtue would make her complicit in any consensual act. To eliminate her knowledge would eliminate the interference.

Passages from 3/4

2008-03-05T10:06:00.000-08:00

More editorial intervention

2008-03-04T10:33:00.000-08:00

At this point in the reading, the novel seems to become increasingly action-oriented, and as readers I think we've become accustomed to the jumps in time and narration that Richardson is creating through the "editing" of the letters. As editorial intervention becomes more common, I think it might be important to keep ourselves aware of what this editing is doing for the story. Early on in this week's reading, a passage stuck out to me on account of its slightly slanted editorial tone. I've reproduced the passage below. I guess I'd be interested in looking at ideas of how this tone sets us up to approach Lovelace's letters. What exactly are the limits of what an editor of these letters should do, and does Richardson's "editor" cross these boundaries?

"Four letters are written by Mr Lovelace from the date of his last, giving the state of affairs between him and the lady, pretty much the same as in hers in the same period allowing for the humour in his; and for his resentments expressed with vehemence on her resolution to leave him, if her friends could be prevailed upon. A few extracts from them will only be given...
(After violent threatenings and vows of revenge, he says--)...
(Thus triumphing in his unpolite cruelty he says--)" (L 187.1-4, 601)

The Virgin's Nosegay

2008-03-03T22:04:00.000-08:00

What interested me in this week's reading was the debate surrounding Clarissa's arguments that her virtue had been destroyed and Lovelace's claims of her "hardness of heart and over-delicacy" (831). Captain Tomlinson, Widow Bevis, Miss Rawlins, and Mrs. Moore all weigh in on this perpetual tension. In issues like this one and in other moral dilemmas that Clarissa faces, there's usually a curious disconnect between Clarissa's sense of morality, her family's, and society's. Sometimes these perspectives align, but Clarissa seems increasingly radical in her conception of her virtue.

I looked around online, and an ECCO search yielded this work called The virgin’s nosegay, or, the duties of Christian virgins: digested into succinct chapters, ... To which is added, Advice to a new married lady. I've included the title page, table of contents, and a couple particularly interesting passages that might flesh out the context in which Clarissa was wrestling with herself and Lovelace.

Note the correlation the author draws between suppression of romantic/lustful passion and the suppression of hunger/appetite and its application to Clarissa's anorexia. If less food consumption results in less passionate impulses, Clarissa is certainly mistress of her passions! Below on the left is an excerpt from "Of Pleasure" and on the right is an excerpt from "On Unchastity." I'm struck by the language of contagion the author ascribes to vices ("infection," "deformity"), as if mental transgressions can somehow translate to somatic manifestations.

Here's the link for the full "manual" for virgins:
The Virgin's Nosegay

Richardson's Letter-Writing Manuals

2008-03-03T09:45:00.001-08:00

There's an interesting article by Victoria Myers that talks about Richardson's participation in the letter-writing manual trend ("Model Letters, Moral Living: Letter-Writing Manuals by Daniel Defoe and Samuel Richardson"). Richardson's most famous manual, Familiar Letters, provides models for domestic letter-writing, and each letter regards a very specific domestic instance (one letter is entitled "To a Father, against putting a Youth of but moderate Parts to a Profession that requires more extensive Abilities").

The interesting thing about Richardson's manual is not the way in which it seeks to create some standard for letter-writing, but how it sees letters as a way of promoting moral improvement in the recipient(s) of the letters. This is effected through a very precise use of language. For instance, Richardson has specific rules about what kinds of passions can be expressed (and to what degree they can be expressed) in different situations so that the moral message is not obscured.

Anyway, this article made me think about the extent to which Clarissa might be a giant letter-writing manual. I think the introduction to our version of Clarissa mentions that Richardson was commissioned to write Familiar Letters (or some other letter-writing manual, I'll have to look it up), and that it eventually evolved into Pamela. I think our attention to language in this class reveals that Richardson still has some of those letter-writing manual concerns in mind, in terms of how precise one's language must be to convey one's point, etc.

Here's a link to Myers's article if you want to read it:
http://www.jstor.org/cgi-bin/jstor/viewitem/00187895/ap070250/07a00100/0?

18th Century Letter Writing

2008-02-26T17:42:00.000-08:00

The Instructor, or American Young Man's Best Companion Containing Spelling, Reading, Writing, and Arithmetick
Fisher, George
1786
Published by Isaiah Thomas, Worcester
Location of original: Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston, Massachusetts

Letter Writing

I discovered some facts about writing in the 18^th century which I found to be of particular interest.

First when researching letter writing on ECCO the amount of manuals dealing in epistolary etiquette was staggering. Manuals included example letters, and rules for writing in various situations all published at the same time as Clarissa. In addition these letter manuals were, for the most part, geared towards men. However, other research suggested that much of the 18^th century population could write by the end of the century however not all could read and write. Many people were able to copy letters or words from other documents yet needed help reading or creating letters. Without the aid of individuals to help with writing letters many would remain incoherent.

Also, there were specific styles of writing which were used in different types of letters. Women most often used a style called Italian Hand of which I have provided an illustration. There was no standardized spelling at the time so there might have been multiple spellings for any given word. However the letter Y was often used in place of an E as in the word THY but it would be pronounced the same as the.

http://homepages.ihug.co.nz/~awoodley/crossedletter.html -source

Letters were written in a very different way than they are today. For one thing, they were what we now call "cross-letters" thanks to the style in which most letters were written. The reason for this is that the recipient of a letter paid a fee based on the letter's size and the distance it travelled. Smaller letters were cheaper; therefore, a cross writing style would better conserve space and allow more to be said for a smaller fee.

The letter shown on the right can be deciphered in this manner:

My Dear Herb

I have treated you very badly in not writing but the truth is I have been so hard put for time that I have not been able to do so. Your letter reached me, about a month after it was written. I hope this will find you in Rome. Will you tell Samuel that I have not got time to write and that I am sorry to say I shall not be able to get abroad this year after all and so unless he can get to England, I shall not have the pleasure of seeing him. I suppose we shall see you up here next term at least at Oxford. You already know my eyes have been bad and have thrown me back considerably, I am very much.......

the crossed lines continue from the other side of the letter....

feet deep here and I very nearly killed myself the other day up et....

Every quill pen was unique, and some took to the task of writing better than others (Letter-writing, 1). It could be hard to find a well-cut quill pen, and it took a skilled hand to do it right.

Letters & Seals (Images)

2008-02-26T14:40:00.000-08:00

Letters & Seals

2008-02-26T14:26:00.000-08:00

Here is a description of the writing practice of the military in 1775, from a website:

http://www.hmsrichmond.org/writing.htm

It describes letter writing details that they apparently still engage in today as a form of 'living history.' In particular, the issues relating to postage and black sealing wax are discussed. Black wax was used in matters related to death, and assured expedient service through the post.

"There were no envelopes (or postage stamps), and any mention of an "envelope" is merely another sheet of paper folded around the rest (there could be writing on one side of the "envelope", as well as on the part of the other side that didn't end up on the outside of the letter).

It did not bode well to have handwriting as being too large, -- at the time, letters were charged according to the number of sheets of paper, so the smaller you could make your writing, the more you could fit in. To save postage, letters were frequently "crossed": i.e. after a sheet of paper had been written on, it was turned 90°, and further lines were written crossing the original writing. It was the recipient, rather than the sender, who paid the postage. Some original references to this matter are lifted from actual letters below:

"I will endeavour to make this letter more worthy your acceptance than my last, which was so shabby a one that I think Mr. Jones could never charge you with the postage."
"Your letter was a most agreeable surprise to me to-day, and I have taken a long sheet of paper to show my gratitude."
"Do not be angry with me for not filling my sheet, and believe me yours affectionately,..."
"I thank you for yours, though I should have been more grateful for it if it had not been charged 8d. instead of 6d., which has given me the torment of writing to Mr. Hall on the occasion."

Franking (Frank) was a term applied to the superscribed signature of a person, such as a member of Parliament, entitled to send letters free of charge. A Frank was a letter bearing such a superscription.

Each quill feather pen, hand cut as it were, was like no other, and some reacted to the task much better than others. Cutting a pen properly is still an art, and good ones are difficult to find today.

Laid paper was the most common for letter writing, especially for formal correspondence. Parchment was reserved for certificates, &c.

As there were no envelops to be had, sealing wax was used to hold the letter's pages intact. This was usually a red wax, although examples of blue is to be found, as other colours more rare. The seal was likely the initial of the Surname, or in the case of a title holder, government or Crown seal, the engraved symbol of that entity. The use of Black wax was reserved for the notification of death in the family, more so to speed the letter in the postal system than to give the receiver advanced notice upon receipt."

Letters & Seals

2008-02-26T14:17:00.001-08:00

As Clarissa considered her own letter writing to be a form of "compact", it is interesting how letter writing itself in the eighteenth century had issues with identity and tampering. Seals were not only attached to envelopes, but the pages themselves. According to the Wikipedia article on "Seal (device)," the process was complicated by the addition of cords and knots to the wax. Also below is an image of a seventeenth century seal. I am currently looking for more images to add to the blog.

"The use of seals, in wax, in lacquer or embossed on paper, to authenticate documents, is a practice as old as writing itself. Seals of this nature were applied directly to the face of the document or attached to the document by cords in the owner's, or to a narrow strip of the document sliced and folded down as a tail but not detached from the document. This helped maintain authenticity by not allowing the reuse of the seal. If a forger tried to remove the seal in the first case, it would break. In the other cases, although the forger could remove the seal intact by ripping the cords from the paper, he'd still have to separate the cords to attach it to another document, which would destroy the seal as well because the cords had knots tied in them inside the wax seal. Most governments still attach seals toletters patent. While many instruments required seals for validity (i.e. the deed or covenant) it is rather uncommon for private citizens to use seals anymore."

From two sides of the room

2008-02-26T11:23:00.000-08:00

I really loved the scene in which Clarissa was finally introduced to Lovelace's acquaintances. Especially since Lovelace had been corresponding with John Belford for so long, it was intriguing to finally have him described by an outsider, someone who had just met him. What I found even more interesting, though, was the problem of representation that arises when the scene is described from two points of view--Clarissa's and Lovelace's. The evening seems to be a generally unpleasant one for both parties, but it's interesting to see where the blame falls in both accounts. I've included snippets from the two letters (161 and 167) below.

Clarissa on the evening:
"I have just escaped from the very disagreeable company I was obliged, so much against my will, to be in. As a very particular relation of this evening's conversation would be painful to me, you must content yourself with what you shall be able to collect from the outlines, as I may call them, of the characters of the persons, assisted by the little histories Mr Lovelace gave me of each yesterday." (542)

Lovelace on the evening:
"To the pure, every little deviation seemed offensive, yet I saw not that there was anything amiss the whole evening, either in your words or behaviour. Some people could talk but upon one or two subjects: she upon every one: no wonder, therefore, they talked to what they understood best; and to mere objects of sense. Had she honoured us with more of her conversation, she would have been less disgusted with ours." (552)

Body and Mind

2008-02-26T09:55:00.000-08:00

I have been interested, in the course of my reading, how often Clarissa--and other characters for that matter--refer to the relationship between mind and body.

When referring to the scathing letter from Arabella, Clarissa tells Anna:
"I think is has touched my head as well as my heart." (512)

Clarissa seems to credit something greatly when it touches both intellectual and emotional chords. As to Lovelace, she chides:

"For pride, as I believe I have heretofore observed, is an infallible sign of weakness; of something wrong in the head or heart" (561)

Clarissa asserts: "that a fine person is seldom paired by a fine mind" (601)

There is a disconnect, then, between mind and body, and yet a togetherness of the two entities that creates a sublime harmony. Clarissa bemoans the absence of a sound mind in the agreeable "person" or body/appearance of Lovelace, suggesting that one often appears without the other (ie, a beautiful person with little intellect or integrity, or an ingenious person with little physical appeal).

Belford: "For why, in short, should not the work of bodies be left to mere bodies"?
(555)

This quote really interested me. Belford is persuading Lovelace not to constrict Clarissa to the chains of motherhood and domesticity. Because she is of sound mind and wit, he believes her body should be kept in tact. The use of the phrase "mere bodies" suggests that manual work is below the work of the mind, and thus childbirth is ignoble and base.

Lovelace: "Oh Belford! she is a lion-hearted lady...Yet her charming body is not equally organized...But had the same soul informed a masculine body, never would there have been a truer hero." (647)

This is a very strange sentiment of the part of Lovelace toward Clarissa. It seems that he is both praising her and wishing her more masculine. Her temperament, he seems to think, is ill-suited to her body. It seems her "charming body" cannot contain the wrath that he inspires within it.

I would think that discussion of the body was taboo in 18th century aristocratic circles. Particularly the bodies of women were most likely not spoken about, but rather ignored in the light of common decency. It intrigues me to hear Clarissa use the word "body," even in a non-sexual sense in regular writing, and to use it in a dichotomoy with "mind."

Theories of the Self: Judith Butler

2008-02-25T12:00:00.000-08:00

I referenced Judith Butler in seminar this past Tuesday, so instead of a post on letter writing, I wanted to post the passages I had in mind. They're from Giving an Account of Oneself (Fordham, 2005), which is actually a compilation of the Spinoza Lectures she gave for the Department of Philosophy at the University of Amsterdam in Spring 2002. Butler draws from Nietzsche, Freud, Foucault, Hegel, Hannah Arendt, and Adriana Cavarero...

"The opacity of the subject may be a consequence of its being conceived as a relational being, one whose early and primary relations are not always available to conscious knowledge. Moments of unknowingness about oneself tend to emerge in the context of relations to others, suggesting that these relations call upon primary forms of relationality that are not always available to explicit and reflective thematization. If we are formed in the context of relations that become partially irrecoverable to us, then that opacity seems built into our formation and follows from our status as beings who are formed in relations of dependency
This postulation of a primary opacity to the self that follows from formative relations has a specific implication for an ethical bearing toward the other. Indeed, if it is precisely by virtue of one's relations to others that one is opaque to oneself, and if those relations to others are the venue for one's ethical responsibility, then it may well follow that is is precisely by virtue of the subject's opacity to itself that it incurs and sustains some of its most important ethical bonds" (20).

*is Clarissa only defined by others? what are the ethical implications of her flight from her family, both in terms of how she sees herself and how others see her?*

Butler goes on to highlight the frustrations of giving a narrative account of oneself:
"There is (1) a non-narrativizable exposure that establishes my singularity (she is referring to a bodily experience), and there are (2) primary relations, irrecoverable, that form lasting and recurrent impressions in the history of my life, and so (3) a history that establishes my partial opacity to myself. Lastly there are (4) norms that facilitate my telling about myself but that I do not author and that render me substitutable at the very moment that I seek to establish the history of my singularity. This last dispossession in language is intensified by the fact that I give an account of myself to someone, so that the narrative structure of my account is superseded by (5) the structure of address in which it takes place" (39).

*Butler's comments were particularly applicable, I thought, to the passages we looked at in Clarissa--pages 483 and 460...

Passages from class today

2008-02-19T17:35:00.001-08:00

"I Am A Very Bad Casuist"

2008-02-19T10:25:00.000-08:00

From Letter 135, Clarissa to Miss Howe:

"...But when I set down what I will do or what I have done, on this or that occasion; the resolution or action is before me, either to be adhered to, withdrawn or amended; and I have entered into compact with myself, as I may say; having given it under my own hand, to improve rather that go backward, as I live longer."

The word "compact" leapt out at me from Clarissa's discussion of writing (as a letter, or as a journal) and its importance to her. There is a sense of the solidity of the tangible page, the subjective action or decision, that is in someway a undeniable foundation for her own moral 'improvement'. As in a contract, the letter cannot be destroyed and is a weapon against moral complacency, or voluntary ignorance.

According to the OED, it is suggested that the word "compact" in the seventeenth century abided by the older notion of 'contract' or 'mutual agreement', but also participated in the more sociological understanding of the "general" or "family" compact. In this case the compact implies a tacit understanding among a social group that is conveyed by convention. In Clarissa's letters, there is a complex understanding of her "compact" as both an agreement with the addressed, but also a more general agreement with the moral and social codes of her time. This will perhaps be interesting in a discussion of seals for next week, in the material culture of the letter, and in its connection and relation to contracts (being documents containing declarations and even a date and signature). I am curious as to the problematic divergence of contracts and letters at this time.

The materiality of letters

2008-02-19T08:19:00.000-08:00

Here are the passages that caught my eye in this week's reading and made me think that we should have some blog discussion next week, in lieu of our canceled class, concerning the materiality of letters in eighteenth-century England:

Clarissa to Anna: “Mr Lovelace is so full of his contrivances and expedients that I think it may not be amiss to desire you to look carefully to the seals of my letters, as I shall to those of yours. If I find him base in this particular, I shall think him capable of any evil; and will fly him as my worst enemy” (529).

Clarissa to Anna, on Col. Morden’s letter: “This letter was enclosed (opened) in a blank cover. Scorn and detest me as they will, I wonder that one line was not sent with it—were it but to have more particularly pointed the design of it, in the same generous spirit that sent me the Spira—The sealing of the cover was with black wax. I hope there is new occasion in the family to give reason for black wax. But if there were, it would, to be sure, have been mentioned and laid at my door—perhaps too justly!”

Lovelace to Belford: "Dorcas, who is ever attentive to all her lady's motions, has given me some instances of her mistress's precautions. She wafers her letters, it seems, in two places; pricks the wafers; and then seals upon them. No doubt but those brought hither are taken the same care of. And she always examines the seals of the letters before she opens them" (570-71).

Another sentence that seemed to me to need glossing: "Subscription is formal between us. Besides, I am so totally hers, that I cannot say how much I am thine, or any other person's" (575).

What are the "seals"? What would "black wax" mean? (And what is "Spira," though this doesn't have anything to do with letters?) What are "wafers"? What is a "subscription," and what did letters usually look like? How much did they cost to send, and how were they usually sent? These are the sort of questions I'd like you to look into. Claim a particular aspect of the topic in the comments, if you like, so that everyone doesn't end up pursuing the same group--any useful links, facts or just thoughts on the matter will be relevant.

"It was inky"

2008-02-19T06:48:00.000-08:00

Passages from last week's class on Letters 77-110 (299-431):

The Grand Tour

2008-02-15T18:37:00.003-08:00

An interesting article at the Guardian...

Marriage in 17th and 18th Century

2008-02-13T08:42:00.000-08:00

From the discussion in class concerning the attitudes toward love matches in the 18th century I did find some relevant material to support the idea that love matches were encouraged by intellectuals, philosophers, writers and families during the 17th and 18th centuries. For those of you interested in the role of marriage and the reasons for marriage in the 17th and 18th centuries, I found two wonderful articles which address the topic. Most importantly these articles address the fact that attitudes began to change in the late 17th century and through the 18th century and romance and love matches played a larger role. While parents still influenced the choice of a partner more often love matches were encouraged and there was a strong belief that marriage should not be forced on unwilling partners.
I will scan in the relevant parts of the articles but I wanted to just put up the titles and databases in case any one was interested. I was researching a different novel however the time period is the same and the content of the articles are applicable to Clarissa's predicament.

1. On JSTOR "Changing Attitudes Toward Marriage in the Time of Defoe" David Blewett- author
2. ECCO- "Conjugal Lewdness and Matrimonial Whoredom"(1727)
3.JSTOR- "The Weightiest Business: Marriage in an Upper Gentry Family in 17th Century England " Miriam Slater

Clarissa, Anorexic?

2008-02-12T07:09:00.000-08:00

Last week we briefly touched on the contested critical interpretation that Clarissa suffers and eventually dies from anorexia. This is what I had assumed about the novel before signing up for the class, having heard from others that Clarissa, in blunt terms, was about a girl who "is raped, gets anorexia, and dies."

I am interested to see how this diagnosis holds up in the end, and I found a few relevant sources that might help to think about anorexia and Clarissa's lack of appetite and thin wrists as I continue to read.

The OED defines anorexia as a "want of appetite," and specifies anorexia nervosa as "a condition marked by emaciation, etc., in which loss of appetite results from severe emotional disturbance." A few of the early citations seem to use the word to describe extreme religious fasters, and only the citations from the mid-nineteenth century onward specify anorexia as a mental and physical medical condition.

The following pages are excerpted from Peter Shaw's "A New Pracitce of Physic"--a kind of WebMD for 1745, or more likely a manual for other physicians. (There's something I really like about the diction and syntax in some of these sentences, like: "When the thoughts or sight of proper food, create a sickness in the stomach, or a tendency to vomit, 'tis called nausea." It's a sentence you could dance to.)

In this account, anorexia is generally considered a prolonged loss of appetite, and Shaw mentions many different causes from hard drinking to having too much tea. The most interesting causes listed are "passions of the mind, as fear, etc." and "suppression of evacuation, as the menses, etc." Aside from the preceding examples, Shaw refrains from discussing anorexia in gendered terms and characterizes anorexia as a general disorder. This doesn't seem to be the same anorexia that people think of today.

Another interesting source is a critical article by Gillian Brown: "Anorexia, Humanism, and Feminism" in the Yale Journal of Criticism, which can be found here. She ultimately argues, "The anorexic interdiction against food removes the self from social space in order to secure as well as redraw the dominion of selfhood. Thus the ultimate aim of the anorexic critique of humanism is to compose a sturdier model of self-possession by clearing the space of the self's operations." I think that Clarissa's philosophical concern with her own freedom shows that she is negotiating the same sort of questions that the article tries to reckon with, but I'm not too sure if she becomes anorexic in order to redefine her own subjectivity. Brown refers often to the work of Wollstonecraft and Rousseau, both of whom published after Richardson, so I wonder to what extent her article can be used to understand Clarissa's condition.

Bits and bobs

2008-02-12T04:19:00.000-08:00

1. Lovelace to Clarissa, Letter 35: “I can attend her anywhere in thee rambling, Dutch-taste garden, whenever she will permit me that honor…”

A Google search yields several JSTOR articles--you can't click through directly from those links, but you can go the JSTOR page through Columbia's electronic resources and read either one of those articles. Here is a decent wikipedia entry on the Dutch garden (more geometrical than the "English style" during this period). There are a lot of good books about gardening and English literature--ask me if you want more details.

2. Betty’s snuff-box (265), and the topic of servants.

These images will give you a feel for the visual style of eighteenth-century snuff boxes. A useful page with lots of details concerning eighteenth-century clothing styles--scroll down (or search) and you will find a brief discussion of the snuff box as accessory. You could also try a keyword search in ECCO to dig up literary references--there are very well-known ones in Pope and Sterne, among others. Keyword and subject searches in CLIO led me to the realization that there seem to be two different books called "Snuff and Snuff-boxes". In short, the snuff box takes us to a world that is fashionable, luxurious, commodity-oriented and implicitly imperial... For more details on servants aping upper-class manners, start with J. Jean Hecht's classic The Domestic Servant Class in England
and Bruce Robbins' excellent The Servant's Hand: English Fiction From Below.

3. Anna on Betty: “Does the Coventry Act extend to women?” (276). That link's to the Encylopedia Britannica article; it should be you get asked for your Columbia uni and password and then click through straight to the entry, but just in case not, I'll paste in the relevant bit:

In December 1670, during a debate on a playhouse tax, [Sir John] Coventry hinted that King Charles II's interest in the stage was confined to actresses. He was waylaid (December 21), and his nose was slit by some guards officers led by Sir Thomas Sandys. Parliament delayed business until the passing of the Coventry Act, declaring assaults accompanied by personal mutilation a felony without benefit of clergy. An attempt was even made to bar the royal prerogative of pardon that had been exercised to protect the assailants. The king was shielded from further repercussions by an organized court party majority in the House of Commons.

4. Anna to her mother: “I desire my hoop may have its full circumference. All they’re good for, that I know, is to clean dirty shoes and to keep ill-mannered fellows at a distance.” (292) Here's a good link from an exhibit at the Met with a picture of an actual hoop petticoat--take a look! The paintings of artist Joseph Highmore, including illustrations of Richardson's novels.

4. Clarissa, speaking to Lovelace after she has gone off with him: “But here, like the first pair, I at least driven out of my paradise, are we recriminating” (Letter 98, 393). An (unannotated--I think the editor of the Penguin edition must have been overwhelmed by the sheer notion of annotating such a long novel, and I do not blame him!) allusion to Milton's Paradise Lost... but was Harlowe Place really a paradise? What does it mean that Clarissa keeps on thinking of herself as a character in literature?!?

Libertine poetry

2008-02-12T03:26:00.000-08:00

A few poems by the Earl of Rochester. This is the sort of thing Lovelace would have known well...

Here's another Rochester link online. The critical sources Susanna quoted in her post are excellent; the Turner book would be a good resource for someone pursuing the topic of libertinage. David Vieth's Penguin edition of Rochester's poems is very good, but possibly out of print...

Libertinage continues to exert a certain mental sway over us, including a number of more or less casual references: consider this and this...

Passages for Letters 35-76 (161-298)

2008-02-12T03:12:00.001-08:00

Lovelace the Libertine

2008-02-11T13:39:00.000-08:00

When Lovelace's first letter to John Belford breaks into Clarissa's correspondence with Anna Howe and her "friends," Lovelace includes a portion of Dryden's Tyrannic Love: "But raging flames tempestuous souls invade:/A fire, which ev'ry windy passion blows;/With pride it mounts, and with revenge it glows" (p. 144, L 31). Lovelace's correspondence with Belford continues in this section of reading, as does his "Roman style." Not only does he make poetic allusions but he also compares Clarissa to Portia and Calpurnia (p.420, L107) and dares to suggest he can be likened to Caesar: "Was not the great Caesar a great rake as to women?" (p. 429, L110).

We've talked a bit in seminar about Lovelace's style, but I wanted a better sense of the historical and literary context in which he was writing. After an investigation into the half-vengeful, half-enamored tone of Lovelace's professed love, I found two books with helpful commentary:

from James Turner's essay "Lovelace and the paradoxes of libertinism" (from Doody and Sabor's Samuel Richardson: Tercentenary Essays, Cambridge, 1989)
"Libertine sexuality cannot be understood simply as a surrender to spontaneous physicality; it is inseparable from the cerebral triumph over the opposite sex, from mastery exercised through tactical reason. ... It is important to recognize, at this point, that the term 'libertine' referred to an aesthetic as well as a sexual or philosophical stance, a style of writing as well as a mode of behaviour. Lovelace's antecedents tried to align the aesthetic and the erotic, but they do not necessarily coincide. Dryden (a favorite poet of Lovelace's!) and Oldham, for example, use 'libertine' to denote the free mode of translation that Pope would later use in his Imitations of Horace--a form of imitation that is fruitful and energetic rather than 'abortive'. For Pierre Corneille, to abandon the unities in drama is 'libertine'. And Mme de Sevigne--one of the few French authors whom Richardson acknowledges and discusses, precisely because she raised issues of propriety and style--uses the word to denote a delightful improvisatory freedom of style. She refers continually to 'le libertinage de ma plume', and particularly praises those letters written by her daughter 'when you have no subjects', when she is free to write 'lettres toutes libertines'. In this sense, Clarissa herself is 'libertine'. Richardson ... has created for Clarissa a style of penetration and freedom, the aristocratic lady's epistolatory manner that had been brought to perfection by Mme de Sevigne" (71, 75).

and from Margaret Doody's A Natural Passion: A Study of the Novels of Samuel Richardson (Oxford, 1974)
"Dryden's dramatic verse becomes part of Richardson's own fictional language, contributing imagery and content, used ironically by the character and ironically about the character. The role Lovelace most often adopts is that of the tragic tyrant-lover. ... Like the tyrant-heroes of the stage, Lovelace seizes upon the 'Vengeance', the 'Rage', which gives him the right to conquer and humiliate the woman, even, if necessary, by sheer force. His threats about Clarissa's fate, his belief that after the act of sexual possession she will lose all personal will and identity in humiliated subjection are totally in keeping with the actions and attitudes of tyrannic lovers" (110, 112).

I found it particularly interesting that while Lovelace is overtly free in his style, even to the point of theatricality, Clarissa's letters might be interpreted as libertine as well in terms of style and structure.

On Dreams

2008-02-11T10:04:00.000-08:00

I found Clarissa's dream (as she relates it to Anna) a really bizarre rupture in the delicate, mannered tone of the novel. Not only is Clarissa violently stabbed to death and left to rot among the corpses, but the act of murder is done in a churchyard, an interesting choice on behalf of Richardson (or Clarissa's subconscious). Perhaps this reveals something about how Clarissa perceives herself--as a martyr? as rightfully punished?--or perhaps it says something about how we are to perceive Clarissa. Either way, I find her dream foreboding, and maybe worth a second look.

'Methought my brother, my uncle Antony, and Mr Solmes had formed a plot to destroy Mr Lovelace; who discovering it turned all his rage against me, believing I had a hand in it. I thought he made them all fly into foreign parts upon it; and afterwards seizing upon me, carried me into a churchyard; and there, notwithstanding all my prayers and tears, and protestations of innocence, stabbed me to the heart, and then tumbled me into a deep grave ready dug, among two or three half-dissolved carcases; throwing in the dirt and earth upon me with his hands, and trampling it down with his feet.'
I awoke with the terror, all in a cold sweat, trembling, and in agonies; and still the frightful images raised by it remain upon my memory. (L84, 343)

There's relatively little written in the 18th century on the interpretation of dreams. Most of the material is more novelty than academic scholarship; I found quite a few dream journals, and translations of others' dreams. What I did find pretty neat was the preface to Reverend Saalfield's A Philosophical Discourse on the Nature of Dreams. Saalfield is interested in the taxonomy of dreams--separating the rational ones from the supernatural ones. He also suggests that dreams might even be God revealing himself to the dreamer. I've added the preface if you'd like to take a look.

Condescension

2008-02-05T08:47:00.001-08:00

The OED definition:

The action, habit, or quality of condescending.

1. Voluntary abnegation for the nonce of the privileges of a superior; affability to one's inferiors, with courteous disregard of difference of rank or position; condescendingness.
1647 CLARENDON Hist. Reb. I. (1843) 18/1 The duke, according to his usual openness and condescension, told him, etc. 1677 HALE Contempl. Lord's Prayer II. 104 Give us a sense of thy Great Condescention to thy weak and sinful Creatures. 1710 STEELE Tatler No. 225 {page}3 Familiarity in Inferiors is Sauciness; in Superiors, Condescension. 1752 JOHNSON Rambler No. 200 {page}6 My old friend receiving me with all the insolence of condescension. 1856 EMERSON Eng. Traits, The ‘Times’ Wks. (Bohn) II. 119 With the most provoking air of condescension.

b. with pl.
1654 WHITLOCK Zootomia 332 He [Christ] was to expiate mans Pride in the lowest Condescentions possible. 1751 JOHNSON Rambler No. 172 {page}6 He concludes himself insulted by condescensions. 1843 LYTTON Last Bar. II. ii, You have spoiled them by your condescensions.

{dag}2. The action of descending or stooping to things unworthy. Obs.
1642 JER. TAYLOR Episc. (1647) 313 Of all Bishops, he [S. Cyprian] did acts of the greatest condescension, and seeming declination of episcopal authority. a1797 H. WALPOLE Mem. Geo. III (1845) I. ii. 17 Every vice, every condescension was imputed to the Duke that the Prince might be stimulated to avoid them.

3. Gracious, considerate, or submissive deference shown to another; complaisance. ?Obs.
1650 T. B. B[AYLEY] Worcester's Apoph. 38 To answer his humour with a condescention at the first word. 1692 BENTLEY Boyle Lect. ii. 43 In compliance and condescension to the custom of their Country. 1692 RAY Dissol. World Pref. (1732) 13 He did it only in condescension to their Weakness. 1749 FIELDING Tom Jones I. vi, Their extreme servility and condescension to their superiors. 1799 W. GILPIN Serm. I. ix. (R.), If we are displeased with an opposition to our humours, we ought to shew a condescension to the humours of others. 1871 FREEMAN Hist. Ess. Ser. I. x. 291 A man who thus showed no condescension to the feelings of his age.

{dag}4. The action or fact of acceding or consenting; concession. Obs.
1648 MANTON Spir. Languish. 2 In obedience to your Order, and condescension to the requests of some Friends, I have now made it [this Sermon] publick. 1664 DK. ALBEMARLE in Marvell's Corr. Wks. 1872-5 II. 99 That some condescentions and abatements be made for peace sake. c1720 Lett. fr. Mist's Jrnl. (1722) I. 238, I almost doubt your Condescension to my Request.

Passages from letters 1-34

2008-02-05T08:17:00.001-08:00

Clarissa's Closet....

2008-02-05T00:14:00.000-08:00

**this is more in the vein of a "Grand Tour" sort of post...background rather than essential info...**

After reading the L. 53 (229), I was intrigued by Clarissa's description of her flight from her sister into her closet:

"whither I retired with my heart full, and pulled the sash-door after me; and could no longer hold in my tears.

Nor would I answer one word to her repeated aggravations and demands upon me to open my door (for the key was on the inside) nor so much as turn my head towards her, as she looked through the glass at me. At last, which vexed her to the heart, I drew the silk curtain that she should not see me, and down she went muttering all the way."

I didn't have a clear visual image as to what her closet looked like, so I searched and found this excerpt from a JSTOR article:

For Christina Gillis the letters of Clarissa are analogous to other spatial phenomena
such as architecture and stage design, for the rooms that relate and pair in
the eighteenth-century house she ingeniously links to the arrangement of the letters.
House-plans suggest Clarissa's meaning when they indicate the growing desire for
privacy in the eighteenth century, an insight that illuminates her division of the
Harlowe house into the 'up' of Clarissa's protected space and the dangerous 'down'
of the tyrannical family (this is far more helpful than all the loose talk about keys and
doors). Clarissa is continually being pushed back into small spaces: her closet, her
room inside the brothel, her prison, and finally ofcourse her coffin. But even here she
controls what may be known: if Bella follows her to her closet she pulls the sash door
after her; if Bella looks through the glass, 'at last, which vexed her to the heart, I
drew the silk curtain, that she should not see me'. The papers Clarissa writes there
turn mental event into public disclosure, and just as the most private room was
regarded as the most sacred, or the inner stage might frame an exemplary tableau, so
these constrained settings display, paradoxically, Clarissa's very public privacy.

Clarissa's story occurs in time. but the letters relate spatially to one another like
rooms in a house. We progress through letters which overlap, reach out expressively
or didactically to particular readers, and are broken open by collectors, arrangers,
editors, and readers inside and outside the text. Such 'openers' are vital, since
private letters must be made public before they can communicate a meaning.
Christina Gillis carefully teases out the writer-to-recipient-to-reader relation in this
strange epistolary world, seeking authenticity in a bewilderment of text.

It didn't really answer my question as to a visual but the relationship between architecture and privacy is interesting...and the work cited looks like it could be good further reading:

Reviewed Work(s):
The Paradox of Privacy: Epistolary Form in 'Clarissa' by Christina Marsden Gillis

And the URL for the article is below....

Stable URL:
http://links.jstor.org/sici?sici=0026-7937%28198704%2982%3A2%3C450%3ASRMPWT%3E2.0.CO%3B2-3

The relationship between ethics and rhetoric in Clarissa

2008-02-04T19:27:00.000-08:00

After reading through this week's assignment, I started to wonder about Richardson's thoughts on the ethics of reading and writing practices in the 18th century. Before writing Pamela, Richardson wrote a letter-writing manual called Familiar Letters, which instructed its readers on how to properly construct letters in different situations. With this in mind, I wonder if Clarissa betrays any of Richardson's original interest in letter-writing manuals. Some observations have led me to believe that aspects of Clarissa are still within this letter-writing manual genre.

I noticed that Clarissa and Lovelace's writing styles fall into classical conceptions of the plain style and the grand style, respectively. In general, Clarissa's use of language is economical. Her descriptions are clear and precise, her arguments are tightly constructed, and every object of analysis--including her own emotions--is rationally dissected in a philosophical manner. Clarity through language is immensely important to Clarissa so that the thought-process of her reader(s) is not directed onto the wrong track. When someone uses her words as a reason for why they are on a different track (i.e. whenever Anna says she believes Clarissa has feelings for Lovelace), Clarissa is quick to isolate those words and break down their meanings to see if they suited her argument or not.

Lovelace, however, is interested in moving and persuading others through the eloquence of his words. For example, in L64.1 (270) Lovelace tries to persuade Clarissa that there are only two alternatives in her situation: marry Solmes or seek refuge in himself. He tries to eliminate the possibility of escape through death and does not dare suggest that she escape to her Cousin Morden or attempt to lay claim to her own estate (both of which she has already considered through her own reasoning of the situation).

He consistently attempts to plead his case to Clarissa through hyperbolic language intended to intensify the purported message behind his words. For example, in the cited letter, he begins "Good God! What is now to become of me!...My feet benumbed with midnight wanderings through the heaviest dews that ever fell: my wig and my linen dripping with the hoar frost dissolving on them!" He then goes on to paint himself as the anguished jilted lover, too despondent to even care about his appearance, let alone adjust his wig. The letter ends with "Your ever-adoring yet almost desponding LOVELACE!" (exclamation marks abound), which stands in stark contrast to Clarissa's consistent use of "Your humble servant." At times, it is difficult for Clarissa to see beyond these words, but as a reader who sees both Lovelace's and Clarissa's letters, it is easy to see that Lovelace uses language disingenuously to move his readers in the direction of his desires.

I think Richardson is actively participating in a historical conversation about ethical writing, which began with Cicero. In his writings on rhetoric, Cicero defined the instructive and rational plain style as most suitable to the ends of philosophers, and he defined the persuasive grand style as most suitable to the ends of politicians. During Cicero's time, the grand style was viewed as the best style because it was more rhetorically demanding and of the most "persuasive stylistic register," according to Peter Auski in "Christian Plain Style: The Evolution of a Spiritual Ideal." However, the Catholic church rejected the grand style because it only appealed to learned and cultured men, not the simple and pious. The Church adopted the plain style as the most direct and effective method of religious instruction, and the plain style came to be equated with moral virtue. According to Auski, this attitude lasted through the 17th century.

It is noteworthy that Auski does not extend this Christian view of the plain style to the 18th century, so I wonder if the 18th century saw some debate between the plain and grand styles. There was definitely a focus on the relationship between ethics and writing, evidenced by the plethora of letter-writing manuals written in both England and France.

In light of these ideas, I wonder: is Clarissa a type of letter-writing manual in defense of the plain style? Why might Richardson feel the impulse to moralize language? And is the tie between ethics and rhetoric an arcane idea to us in the 21st century?

Some More Word Confusion

2008-02-04T13:38:00.000-08:00

One word that keeps reappearing in the text is "condescend," yet it is not used in the same way it is generally though of today. To me, "condescend" means to talk down to, to treat someone as an inferior, to patronize. Dictionary.com gives as its first definition of the word: 'to behave as if one is conscious of descending from a superior position, rank, or dignity.' The word, in this connotation, is negative and unfriendly.
In Clarissa, however, "condescend" is used to mean something different. To condescend, in Richardson's prose, is to disregard one's superiority or station and purposely assume equality with one in need. This definition is at once similar to the first, yet in a way its opposite, for it suggests a benevolence and decency not usually associated with the word.

Of her uncle Harlowe, Clarissa quotes:
"I only came to make my earliest court to you, were his condescending words" (294)
Lovelace appeals to Clarissa:
"Yet, I must, I do, insist upon your promise--or that you will condescend to find better excuses for the failure." (270)
When first confined to her bedroom, Clarissa often talks of her mother "condescending" to see her, despite her stubbornness of the rest of her relatives.

It is interesting that Richardson uses the term "condescend" to mean something positive. When Clarissa writes of being "condescended to," it is equal to being humored, indulged, or accommodated by those who otherwise should or would treat her with disdain. It seems that this usage has faded in popularity, for I have always connected the word to impoliteness and arrogance.

[And to anyone who was as curious as I was about this word:]
"Wrens and sparrows are not too ignoble a quarry for this villainous goshawk!" (284)
Clarissa writes these angry words when she is under the impression that Lovelace has seduced the young "Rosebud."
Apparently, "goshawk" is a large powerful hawk having broad rounded wings, a long tail, and gray or brownish plumage.

Word usage/confusion

2008-02-01T09:50:00.000-08:00

Having read a novel by Richardson previously I took little notice of various connotations for words which were already familiar. However, this could be because I was struck dumb by the wonderful story(yes I am serious loved it)blind, or because Richardson seems to have changed his writing style and restructured the way in which he writes from the time of Pamela until Clarissa. While Mathew Glasser picked up on the various differences in word usage from the 1700s until now I also noticed that there were familiar sounding words which held completely different meanings. I was most intrigued by the word "niggard" or "niggardly" which first appears on pg 81 Letter 13 in the 4th full paragraph where it states"riches left by one niggard to another, in injury to the next heir, because that other is a niggard." First I was surprised because when reading it sounds sounds so similar to a common racial slur but after investigating not only is the spelling different but it is a harmless word meaning a miser or someone who is stingy.

www.worldwideword.com
The adverb form niggardly, miserly or stingily, was formed in the sixteenth century from niggard, a miser or stingy person. In the Wycliffe Bible of 1384 it was spelled nygard; earlier still it can be found as nigon, and another form nig also existed. We are pretty sure this was borrowed from a Scandinavian source, because there are related words in several Germanic languages, for example, the Old Norse hnøgger, meaning “stingy”. So it has nothing to do with nigger, which comes via French nègre from Spanish negro, ultimately from Latin niger, meaning “black”.

Another interesting note: the word is not used today or is rarely used as it is too often mistaken for the "bad word"

The point of this post is that Richardson's word usage is not only different from how we use words today but is in fact somewhat different from how authors used words in the 18th Century as well.
According to Donald Ball in an Article titled "Richardson's Resourceful Wordmaking "Ball states that "a feature of Richardson's language that has not been examined is his wordmaking- his ability to use, to coin, and to develop single words, compound words, and phrases to suit the purposes of the expansive new world of fiction he was creating"(56).
While the article only points to a few words I am planning to keep my eyes open. There is something creative in forming new words, which goes beyond simply "writing,"
so I found this to be a particularly intriguing fact about Richarson's writing.

Duelling

2008-01-29T10:26:00.000-08:00

Arthur Krystal, at the New Yorker, considers the history of duelling. Here's a book on the early history of dueling in England, and its table of contents and introduction can be found here (PDF). The bibliography in that book would be a good thing to consult if you're interested in pursuing questions about honor, civility and masculinity as they affect our reading of Richardson's novel; it will include a thorough account of primary sources on duelling from the period, though you can get a preliminary sense of that by doing a few keyword searches in ECCO. (Be wary, though, of using keywords to trawl through a database--you don't end up with a very good sense of proportion, i.e. which works are widely distributed and read, or broadly speaking influential, and which may have been obscure--it's always worth checking the authoritative scholarly sources on the topics. They are not always infallible, but at least they have been vetted by scholars in the field and academic publishers' review boards!)

The Grand Tour

2008-01-29T10:20:00.000-08:00

Clarissa enters into a correspondence with Lovelace because her uncle requests from him a series of letters concerning his own experience with the Grand Tour. That link includes descriptions of related paintings and sculptures that can be seen at the Met, plus a short bibliography at the bottom of the page; here's another link to an exhibition at the Getty, and the wikipedia definition seems to me in this case fairly useful and informative.

The Lady's Preceptor

2008-01-28T22:01:00.002-08:00

As a 21st Century reader, I couldn't help but notice the strikingly different connotation surrounding the word "condescension" in the text. Obviously for us, the word has a typically negative meaning, but in the text it is seen as an attribute. For example, Ms. Howe writes to Clarissa, "Your condescension has no doubt hitherto prevented great mischiefs" (71). Elsewhere, Clarissa describes her mother using this term. Sure enough, when I looked at the OED, I found this definition: " 3. Gracious, considerate, or submissive deference shown to another; complaisance." Ironically enough, Fielding's Tom Jones was used as an example for usage.

While I was fuddling around with that, I actually stumbled across something I consider even more interesting: a French etiquette guide for women translated into English in 1743. I say it's more interesting, because it seems to describe a situation very similar to Clarissa's. However, it instructs the girl to always follow her family's advice (particularly her parents) since they are free from the emotional blindness that afflicts young women. It seems to stand for the very conditions which Richardson is criticizing, which, it seems was considered the norm.

The Gentlewoman's Companion

2008-01-28T13:16:00.000-08:00

After reading the preface to Clarissa, I was intrigued by Richardson's own discussion of epistolary writing describing the letters that follow to contain both "critical situations" and "instantaneous descriptions and reflections." In the preceding images, a book titled The Accomplished Housewife, or The Gentlewoman's Companion from 1745 has a brief poem discussing the purposes of epistolary writing as a means of instruction. The rest of the manual is also relevant in researching the expectations of the time period. These images were found on ECCO. They seem to illuminate the purposes of letters, for and by women at that time.

"Grim grin"

2008-01-23T12:53:00.000-08:00

I was struck by the similarities between the opening paragraph of Frederic Raphael's TLS review of a one-volume selection of Graham Greene's letters and some of what we were talking about in class yesterday:

Ever since Rome established its domination of the Mediterranean, letter-writing has been a regular adjunct of civilized life. The spread of Latinitas and reliable couriers allowed Cicero to exchange personal messages and canvass cronies throughout the Roman world. His letters, like those of many subsequent writers, are at once seemingly off the record and artfully composed. The epistolary Cicero is as much the advocate of his own fame, and poster-boy of his wit, as Cicero the orator. If a writer’s correspondence seems to reveal him without artifice, his prose is professionally calculated to entertain, seduce or intimidate. “When an artist spits”, the Dadaist said, “that’s art!” And when Graham Greene writes a letter, it is no less (or more) his work than anything else. To believe that letters affect to show what he was “really like” discounts his mutability. In any case, to be “like” implies approximation, if not imposture, the novelist’s working habit. It was said of a portrait by John Singer Sargent that you couldn’t see the man for the likeness. Greene was like many things, but no one essential thing, unless it was English: “Anglais, terriblement anglais”, was a French critic’s sighing encomium.

You may also spot the references to Laclos later on in the piece...

Cognitive tears

2008-01-22T06:37:00.000-08:00

From Harold Bloom, introduction to Samuel Richardson: Modern Critical Views (New York: Chelsea House, 1987):

I first read Clarissa as a Cornell undergraduate in the late 1940s, under the skilled direction of my teacher, William M. Sale, Jr., a fierce partisan of Richardson and a remarkable critic of fiction. Since I cannot read a novel other than the way that Sale taught me, it is not surprising that forty years later I hold on fast to his canonical judgment that Clarissa is the finest novel in the English language. Rereading it through the years, I find it the only novel that can rival even Proust, despite Proust's evident advantages. The long and astonishing sequence that ends the novel, Clarissa's protracted death and its aftermath, is clearly at one of the limits of the novel as an art. I find myself fighting not to weep just before the moment of Clarissa's death, but as a critic I submit that these would be cognitive tears, and would say little about me but much about Richardson's extraordinary powers of representation.