perfidious lover, actuated, it woul
by the love of intrigue and of en
desire to humble the Harlowe
the pride of this their belove
attachment to him was not of
which he conceived was due
villanous scheme for the de
Without the least regard
woman, whom he always
for his wife at some fut
lodge her with the ke
and to place around he
At length, every ef
purpose having faile
violates the person
influence. But h
save infamy and
broken heart, a
of one of her k

It cannot with many

lace's very selfishness.

of vir-
'eepest

"own
he

.ed it has

es soever, radation. It

show there is a

beam out spotless

of the person has been y of Clarissa, under her ortunes, reminds us of the poet, that a good man, strug

tide of adversity, and surmounting

which the immortal gods might look ith pleasure. This is a subject which Barbauld has dwelt upon with a suitable feelmited view of Clarissa's merit, merely as the dignity of her sex. The more contracted resting the efforts of a practised seducer, although unquestionably in Richardson's view, his manhood. Clarissa, bred in a superior rank in life, led astray by no strong passion, courted by a lover,

hardened it, as he

induced

path t

is no

man

sec

w!

h

T

it was

bographer reasonably spurns as

degrading to wo

who had immediate marriage in his

power, must

have been a subordinate person indeed, if incapable of repelling his attempts at dishonouring her perreflections which follow this reasoning :-" The son. I cannot avoid transcribing the excellent real moral of Clarissa is, that virtue is triumphant in every situation; that in circumstances the most

ling, in a pris despair,

'ect of

d the ladies im

eems to imply whom they

A kings come bow to

and that it

moirs to nd one

im

re

1

it has produced this effect, ce well, and it is immaterial w in is selected under the name of such are the reader's feelings. If re in favour of virtue, the novel is vir if of vice, the novel is vicious. The greatof Clarissa is shown by her separating herself om her lover, as soon as she perceives his dishonourable views; in her choosing death rather than a repetition of the outrage; in her rejection of those overtures of marriage, which a common mind might have accepted of, as a refuge against worldly dishonour; in her firm indignant carriage, mixed with calm patience and Christian resignation, and in the greatness of mind with which she views and enjoys the approaches of death, and her meek forgiveness of her unfeeling relations."1

These arguments, however, were not at first readily admitted by Richardson's warmest admirers. The first four volumes of Clarissa having appeared, and a report having been spread that the catastrophe was to be unfortunate, many remonstrances were made on the subject by those readers who shrunk from the extreme pain inflicted by the tragical part

1 Life of Richardson, vol. i., p. 150.

yet our feelings triumph with the triumph of virtue, as it rises over all the odds which the deepest misfortune, and even degradation, have thrown into the scale. There is a noble pride amid the sorrow with which we contemplate the distresses of such a being as Clarissa, becoming more exalted over that personal dishonour, which, when it has once taken place, under what circumstances soever, is generally understood to infer degradation. It was reserved to Richardson to show there is a chastity of the soul, which can beam out spotless and unsullied even after that of the person has been violated; and the dignity of Clarissa, under her disgrace and her misfortunes, reminds us of the saying of the ancient poet, that a good man, struggling with the tide of adversity, and surmounting it, was a sight which the immortal gods might look down upon with pleasure. This is a subject which Mrs Barbauld has dwelt upon with a suitable feeling of the dignity of her sex. The more contracted and limited view of Clarissa's merit, merely as resisting the efforts of a practised seducer, although it was unquestionably in Richardson's view, his biographer reasonably spurns as degrading to womanhood. Clarissa, bred in a superior rank in life, led astray by no strong passion, courted by a lover, who had immediate marriage in his power, must have been a subordinate person indeed, if incapable of repelling his attempts at dishonouring her person. I cannot avoid transcribing the excellent reflections which follow this reasoning :—“ The real moral of Clarissa is, that virtue is triumphant in every situation; that in circumstances the most

painful and degrading, in a prison, in a brothel, in grief, in distraction, in despair, it is still lovely, still commanding, still the object of our veneration, of our fondest affections; that, if it is seated on the ground, it can still say with Constance,

Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.'

"The Novelist that has produced this effect, has performed his office well, and it is immaterial what particular maxim is selected under the name of a moral while such are the reader's feelings. If our feelings are in favour of virtue, the novel is virtuous; if of vice, the novel is vicious. The greatness of Clarissa is shown by her separating herself from her lover, as soon as she perceives his dishonourable views; in her choosing death rather than a repetition of the outrage; in her rejection of those overtures of marriage, which a common mind might have accepted of, as a refuge against worldly dishonour; in her firm indignant carriage, mixed with calm patience and Christian resignation, and in the greatness of mind with which she views and enjoys the approaches of death, and her meek forgiveness of her unfeeling relations."

These arguments, however, were not at first readily admitted by Richardson's warmest admirers. The first four volumes of Clarissa having appeared, and a report having been spread that the catastrophe was to be unfortunate, many remonstrances were made on the subject by those readers who shrunk from the extreme pain inflicted by the tragical part

1 Life of Richardson, vol. i., p. 150.

of the narrative, and, laying aside the contemplation of the moral, complained, that in a professed work of amusement, the author had contrived to harrow up their feelings to a degree that was intolerably painful. Old Cibber raved on the subject like a profane Bedlamite; and what was perhaps of more consequence to Richardson, the rumour of Lovelace's success, and Clarissa's death, occasioned Lady Bradshaigh's opening her romantic correspondence with him, under the assumed name of Belfour. In reply to the expostulations of the latter, Richardson frankly stated his own noble plan, of which he had too just a conception to alter it, in compliance with the remonstrances of his correspondents.

"Indeed you are not particular in your wishes for a happy ending, as it is called. Nor can I go through some of the scenes myself without being sensibly touched. (Did I not say that I was another Pygmalion ?) But yet I had to show, for example sake, a young lady struggling nobly with the greatest difficulties, and triumphing from the best motives, in the course of distresses, the tenth part of which would have sunk even manly hearts ; yet tenderly educated, born to affluence, naturally meek, although, where an exertion of spirit was necessary, manifesting herself to be a true heroine."

Defeated in this point, the friends and correspondents of Richardson became even more importunate for the reformation of Lovelace, and the winding up the story by his happy union with Clarissa. On

1 Correspondence of Richardson, vol. iv., p. 186.