both to Parents and Children, for the sake of which the Whole was
published, cannot appear in a Table of Contents, that means only to
point out the principal Facts, the Connexion of the Whole, and to set
before the Reader as well the blameable as the laudable Conduct of the
principal Characters, and to teach them what to pursue, and what to
avoid, in a Piece that is not to be considered as an Amusement only, but
rather as a History of Life and Manners. / /
[7]
Drawn up with a View to obviate such of the Objections as have been made
to particular Characters and Passages, thro' want of Attention to the
Story.
--In such as have pursued the Story with too much Rapidity to attend to
the Connexion, and to the Instruction aimed to be given, and to the
Example proposed to be set.
So many important Lessons, as to Life and Manners, in the Work, that the
Reader may be intrusted with the Contents. / /
* * * * *
[8]
Rev. Mr. Skelton.
They who read Romances and Novels, being accustomed to a Variety of
Intrigues and Adventures, thro' which they are hurried to the
Catastrophe; when they take up Clarissa, not considering that it is
another kind of Work, or rather a new Species of Novel, are apt to think
it tedious, towards the Beginning especially, because they have not the
same Palate for natural Incidents, as for imaginary Adventures; for the
Workings of private and domestic Passions, as for those of Kings,
Heroes, Heroines; for a Story English as to its Scenes, Names, Manners,
as for one that is foreign: But a Reader of true Taste and Judgment will
like it infinitely better, because it comes home to the Heart, and to
common Life, in every Line; because it abounds with a surprising Variety
of Strokes and Paintings, that seem to be taken from real Life, and of
Maxims and Reflections too just, and too useful, to be passed over
unnoticed or unremembred [sic] by a Reader of Experience. These,
together with the masterly Management of the Characters, serve better to
entertain, while they instruct, a judicious Reader, than a Croud of mere
imaginary Amours, Duels, and such-like Events, which abound with Leaves
and Flowers, but no Fruits; and therefore cannot be relished but by a
vitiated Taste, by the Taste of a Chameleon, not of a Man. Two or three
Hours furnish Matter for an excellent Play: Why may not Two or Three
Months supply Materials for as many Volumes? Is the History of
Thucydides less entertaining or instructive, because its Subject is
confined to narrow Bounds, than that of Raleigh, which hath the World
for its Subject? Is Clarissa a mere Novel? Whoever considers it as such,
does not understand it. It is a System of religious and moral Precepts
and Examples, planned on an entertaining Story, which stands or goes
forward, as the excellent Design of the Author requires; but never
stands without pouring in Incidents, Descriptions, Maxims, that keep
Attention alive, that engage and mend the Heart, that play with the
Imagination, while they inform the Understanding. / /
* * * * *
[9]
Rev. Mr. Spence.
It is the more necessary to say something, by way of Preface, of the
following Work; because it is a Work of a new kind among us.
The Writers of _Novels_ and _Romances_ have generally endeavoured to
pick out the most pleasing Stories; to pass over the dry Parts in them;
and to hurry the Reader on from one striking Event to another. Their
_only_ Aim seems to be that of making a Tissue of Adventures, which by
their Strangeness and Variety are meant only to surprise and please.
Nature they have not much in View; and Morality is often quite out of
the Question with them.
Instead of following this way of writing, the Author of Clarissa has
attempted to give a plain and natural Account of an Affair that happened
in a private Family, just in the manner that it did happen. He has aimed
solely at following Nature; and giving the Sentiments of the Persons
concerned, just as they flowed warm from their Hearts.
The best way to do this he thought was to carry on the Story, not in the
narrative way, as usual; but by making them write their own Thoughts to
Friends, soon after each Incident happened; with all that Naturalness
and Warmth, with which they felt them, at that time, in their own Minds.
This must necessarily lead the Work into a great Length: For as his Aim
was to give a true and full Picture of Nature, the whole Course of the
Affair is represented; frequently, even to the most minute Particulars:
And as they are related by Persons concerned, you have not only the
Particulars, but what they felt in their own Minds at the time, and
their Reflections upon them afterwards: Beside, that Letters always give
a Liberty of little Excursions; and when between Intimate Friends,
require an Opening of the Heart, and consequently a Diffuseness, that
the narrative Style would not admit of.
The chief Intent of the Work was, to draw off the Ladies, if possible,
from the distinguishing Fondness many of them are too apt to entertain
for Rakes; and to shew them, that if they put themselves into the Power
of a Rake, they are sure of being ill used by him.
[10]
To this End the Author has chosen out a Story, which is as strong a
Proof of it as can well be. A Lady of particular good Sense, Breeding,
and Morals, is so ill used by her Family, in order to oblige her to
marry a Man she cannot like, that they drive her at last into the Hands
of a Rake, who professes the most honourable Passion for her. From the
Moment she is in his Hands, he is plotting how to ruin her: Her
Innocence is above all his Art and Temtations [sic]; so that he is
forced to use other, and yet viler Means. In spite/ /of all her
Virtue, her Person is abused. She resents it, as she ought; and escapes
from him: But, worn out with a continued Series of ill Usage (from her
own Family, as well as from the Villain, and his Adherents), she
continues languishing; and at last dies forgiving all her Enemies.
To give this the greater Strength, the Lady is represented as superior
to all her Sex; and the Rake of a mixt Character, and not so bad as
several of his. She likes the Man; but has no violent Passion for him:
He loves her above all Women; and yet is resolved most steadily to
pursue her Ruin. All her Calamities with him are occasioned, at
first,[34] by going scarce sensibly out of the Bounds of her Duty; and
afterwards, by being betrayed into an Action[35], which she did not
intend; and which, had she intended [it] [sic], under her Circumstances,
was scarce to be blamed. When in his Hands, her Virtue is invincible:
She is perpetually alarmed, and her Prudence is ever on the Watch. And
yet she falls a Prey to his Villainy; and from being the Glory of her
Sex, becomes an Object of our Compassion. If a Clarissa thus fell, what
must the rest of Women expect, if they give greater Encouragements to
yet more abandoned Men?
There are other Side-Morals (and particularly that very instructive one
to Parents, not to insist too rigidly on forcing their Childrens
Inclinations); but this is the direct Moral of the whole Story: "That a
Woman, even of the greatest Abilities, should not enter into any, even
the most guarded, Correspondence with a Rake; and that if she once falls
into his Power, she is undone."
To enforce this Moral, it was necessary to Paint out all the Distresses
of the Sufferer; and to make her suffer to the End: In doing which, the
Author, I dare say, has given several Pangs to his own Heart, as well as
to the Hearts of his Readers. But these should be looked upon like the
Incisions made by a kind Surgeon; who feels himself for every Stroke
that he gives; and who gives them only out of Humanity, and to save his
Patients.
Indeed, as the Patients here are the Ladies, the Suffering must be the
greater; to the Author, as well as to them: But had they not better
suffer, from these generous Tendernesses of their own Hearts, than from
the Villainies of such Enemies, as they are here warned to avoid? Their
Tears look beautifully, when they are shed for a Clarissa; but they
would be a killing Sight to one, were they to be shed for themselves,
upon falling into Distresses like hers.
[11]
I do not wonder, that in reading this Story, many of them should wish,
that it might have ended less unfortunately. It is agreeable to the
Tenderness and Goodness of their Hearts. The Author, no doubt, wished so
too: But that could not be brought about, without taking away the Moral,
or, at least, very much weakening the Force of it. The Business of this
Work is to shew the Distresses of an almost innocent Sufferer, and the
Villainies of a debauched Man, who wanted chiefly to pride himself in
the Conquest of her. It/ /is all but one Story, with one Design; and
the making the Lady fortunate in the End, would have varied the Fact,
and undermined his Design. In a Picture that represents any melancholy
Story, a good Painter will make the Sky all dark and cloudy; and cast a
Gloom on every thing in it: If the Subject be gay, he gives a Brightness
to all his Sky; and an Enlivening to all the Objects: But he will never
confound these Characters; and give you a Picture that shall be sad in
one half of it, and gay in the other. In this Work the Design is as much
one, and the Colouring as much one, as they can be in a Picture; and to
confuse either, would be the most ready way to spoil both.
Clarissa takes but one false Step in the whole Piece. She is impelled
toward it, in general, by the strange Behaviour of her Family; and
betrayed into it, at the time, by the strange Contrivances of her
Deceiver. But this single Step was of the utmost Consequence. It flings
her into the Power of the most dangerous of Men; and that makes all the
Remainder of her Life melancholy and distressed. This is the Lesson:
And if it be a good one, the Force of it ought not to be weakened by her
Recovering from all her Distresses, and growing quite happy again; which
indeed would not only weaken, but intirely take away, all the Force that
was intended to be given to it.
Yet if Clarissa be unfortunate, she is not miserable. She preserved her
Innocence thro' all her Trials, after that one false Step: When she had
no Comfort to expect in this World, she turns her Hopes and Confidence
toward Heaven: Her Afflictions are soon ended, for the Course of this
whole Affair (taking it from the very Beginning) is included within the
Bounds of one Year: And she departs with Pleasure from a Life full of
Trouble, to be rewarded without End. So that, tho' we are warned by
Clarissa's Example, we have no Reason to be concerned at her
Dissolution: Much more noble, and more to be admired, in her Steadiness,
and just Conduct, then, than when she was caressed by all her Relations,
in the Bloom of her unviolated Innocence, and busied in all the little
endearing Offices of her good Nature, and good Sense. / /
* * * * *
[12]
All the Objections to the Design and Conduct of the History of =Clarissa=,
which have seemed to carry any Weight in them, being, we presume,
obviated in the PS. to this Work, we apprehend it will be only expected
from us, on this Second Publication, that we exhibit some Particulars,
which may help to shew the superiority of its Moral to any of the Morals
of those Works of Invention, which have been offered to the Public under
the Name of =Novel=, or =Romance=.
Now what a Romance usually professes to entertain us with, may be
considered under Three General Heads; _Ridicule_; or, _Serious
Adventures_; or, lastly, a _Mixture of both_.
It must be owned, that there are some Works under the First of these
Heads, which have their Excellencies; Tho' we may be permitted to doubt,
whether _Ridicule_ is a proper Basis (without the Help of more solid
Buttresses) whereon to build Instruction, whatever Delight it may
administer to the Reader.
As to those Authors who have given us the _Serious_; some of them make
use of a Style as horrid as their Matter: We may be excused mentioning
their Names, in this Place, since, without Self-flattery, we may say, we
disdain to appear on the same Page with them. We shall only observe in
general, that they are far from being clear of the strained Metaphors,
and unnatural Rants, of the old Romances, whose enormous Volumes would
be enough to terrify a Reader who sought only for Amusement, and not for
Employment of his better to be employed Hours.
Between these two Extremes that something useful to the Cause of
Religion and Virtue should be struck out, was the Author of Clarissa's
Intent. Such an Intent has Two manifest Advantages over all other Works
which
of Invention ~that~ have yet appeared.
The First of these is, That, by the Work now presented to our Fair
Readers, they may be instructed to render themselves superior to that
_extravagant_ Taste in Courtship, which was the prevailing Mode in Two
or Three preceding Centuries; and from which the present, we are sorry
to say, is not absolutely free.
The Second, That, by containing their Views _within the Bounds_ of
Nature and Reason, they may be sweetly, but insensibly, drawn to
preserve a proper Dignity of Behaviour, whereby to awe the Presumption
of the Bold and Forward: So that, while we behold them as Angels of
Light, they would be pleased not to give too convincing Evidence of
their _Fall_ from that to a lower Character; a detestable one too, which
will in a short time sink them as much in the Esteem of their flattering
Admirers, as those very Deceivers had before persuaded them, that they
were elevated above the common Lot of Mortality.
The Choice the Author has made, in this and a former Performance, of
delivering the Sentiments of his Characters in their own Words, by way
of Letters, has also Two principal Advantages, which we beg leave to
specify. / /
[13]
In the First place, By this means every one is enabled to judge at first
Sight, whether the respective Persons represented express themselves in
a Style suitable to their Characters, or not, and may thus become a
rational Critic on the Merit of the Piece.
Secondly, Those Characters sink deeper into the Mind of the Reader, and
stamp there a perfect Idea of the very Turn of Thought, by which the
Originals were actuated, and diversified from each other. This must
greatly add to the Pleasure of reading, when a Gentleman or Lady can
readily say, upon hearing a single Paragraph, "This is the accomplished
=Clarissa=; This the spirited and friendly Miss =Howe=; This the
supercilious Pedant =Brand=; This the humane and reclaiming =Belford=; This
the daring, learned, witty, and thence dangerous Libertine =Lovelace=:"
And so of the rest.
We need not insist on the evident Superiority of this Method to the dry
Narrative; where the _Novelist_ moves on, his own dull Pace, to the End
of his Chapter and Book, interweaving impertinent Digressions, for fear
the Reader's Patience should be exhausted by his tedious Dwelling on one
Subject, in the same Style: Which may not unfitly be compared to the
dead Tolling of a single Bell, in Opposition to the wonderful Variety of
Sounds, which constitute the Harmony of a Handel.
As the major Part of such Works as these might be _omitted_, to the
greater Emolument of the Reader, if not of the Writer; so we have the
Pleasure to acquaint the Public, that the contrary is true of the Work
before us: For the Author has in this Edition _restored_ several
Passages, which, for Brevity, were omitted in the former. Such are the
Instructions in Vol. III. p. ... given by Mr. Lovelace to his Four
Friends on their first Visit to his _Goddess_, as he justly calls her,
comparing her with the wretches he had so long been accustomed to: Which
instructions are highly humorous and characteristical, and by being laid
open may suggest proper Cautions to all who are likely to be engaged in
justly suspected Company. Several other Inlargements and Alterations
there are, which tend further to illustrate his Design, and to make it
more generally useful. And as these will be presented to the Public
without any additional Price, it is hoped they will come recommended on
that score also, as well as for their evident Importance, when
attentively perused; which it is presumed the whole Work should be, as
containing Documents of Religion and Morality, which will probably lie
hid to a careless or superficial Examiner: And this we speak of those
Parts principally, which have least _Entertainment_, in the vulgar sense
of the word.
An Objection remains to be answered; which is so minute, that it is
therefore condemned to this last and lowest Place. / /
[14]
"Clarissa is too delicate."--The Author readily acknowleges [sic], that
too delicate she is for the Hearts of such as, by Conformity to the
loose Manners of the present Age, have confounded Purity with Prudery.
But, for all this, it may be hoped, that the latter will rather
endeavour to raise their Affections to =Clarissa's= virtuous Standard,
than by striving to impeach her Character, effectually debase, if not
violently tear up, the decisive Standard of Right and Wrong.
The just Detestation that injured Lady had of Lovelace's vile Attempt to
corrupt her Mind as well as Person, was surely a sufficient Argument
against uniting her untainted Purity (surely we may say so, since the
Violation reached not her Soul) in Marriage with so gross a Violator;
and must for ever continue in Force, till the eternal Differences of
Vice and Virtue shall coalesce, and make one putrid Mass, a Chaos in the
Moral and Intellectual World.
We have a remarkable, and in some Degree a parallel Case in Scripture;
where we find, that the Rape of _Dinah_ was revenged, cruelly revenged,
by the Sons of Jacob. _Dinah_, like =Clarissa=, had Proposals of Marriage
made to her by the Ravisher. But these were not thought sufficient to
expunge the Stain upon a Person of that Family, from which was to
proceed the =Son= of Him whose eyes are purer than to behold Iniquity.
Therefore a Massacre was made of the King Hamor, and his son Shechem;
and their People were led into Captivity. The Answer of Simeon and Levi
to their Father's Complaint of Cruelty was only this: _Should he deal
with_ =our Sister=, _as with an_ =Harlot=?
The only Use we intend to make of this Passage is, to shew that it is no
new thing, that a Violation of this sort should be desperately resented,
as this was by the resolute =Morden=; however _new_ it may be, that a
young Lady should disdain the Villain, who had betrayed her Person, and
soon after laid her Hopes, and the Hopes of all her flourishing Family,
in the Dust of the Grave.
POSTSCRIPT.
_Referred to in the Preface._
IN WHICH
Several Objections that have been made, as well to the Catastrophe
as to different Parts of the preceding History, are briefly
considered.
The foregoing Work having been published at three different periods of
time, the Author, in the course of its publication, was favoured with
many anonymous Letters, in which the Writers differently expressed their
wishes with regard to the apprehended catastrophe.
Most of those directed to him by the gentler Sex, turned in favour of
what they called a _Fortunate Ending_. Some of the fair writers,
enamoured, as they declared, with the character of the Heroine, were
warmly solicitous to have her made happy:"And others, likewise of their
mind, _insisted that Poetical Justice_ required that it should be so.
And when, says one ingenious Lady, whose undoubted motive was
good-nature and humanity, it must be concluded, that it is in an
author's power to make his piece end as he pleases, why should he not
give pleasure rather than pain to the Reader whom he has interested in
favour of his principal characters?
"Others, and some Gentlemen, declared against Tragedies in general, and
in favour of Comedies, almost in the words of Lovelace, who was
supported in his taste by all the women at Mrs. Sinclair's, and by
Sinclair herself. 'I have too much _Feeling_, said he[36]. There is
enough in the world to make our hearts sad, without carrying grief into
our diversions, and making the distresses of others our own.'
"And how was this happy ending to be brought about? Why by this very
easy and trite expedient; to wit, by reforming Lovelace, and marrying
him to Clarissa--Not, however, abating her one of her tryals, nor any of
her sufferings [for the sake of the _sport_ her distresses would give to
the _tender-hearted_ reader as she went along] the last outrage
excepted: That indeed, partly in compliment to Lovelace himself, and
partly for delicacy-sake, they were willing to spare her.
"But whatever were the fate of his work, the Author was resolved to take
a different method. He always thought, that _sudden Conversions_, such
especially, as were left to the candour of the Reader to _suppose_ and
_make out_, had neither _Art_, nor _Nature_, nor even _Probability_, in
them; and that they were moreover of very _bad_ example. To have a
Lovelace for a series of years glory in his wickedness, and think that
he had nothing to do, but as an act of grace and favour to hold out his
hand to receive that of the best of women, whenever he pleased, and to
have it thought, that Marriage would be a sufficient amends for all his
enormities to others, as well as to her; he could not bear that. Nor is
Reformation, as he has shewn in another piece, to be secured by a fine
face; by a passion that has sense for its object; nor by the goodness of
a Wife's heart, or even example, if the heart of the Husband be not
graciously touched by the Divine Finger.
"It will be seen by this time, that the Author had a great end in view.
He has lived to see Scepticism and Infidelity openly avowed, and even
endeavoured to be propagated from the _Press_: The great doctrines of
the Gospel brought into question: Those of self-denial and
mortification blotted out of the catalogue of christian virtues: And a
taste even to wantonness for out-door pleasure and luxury, to the
general exclusion of domestic as well as public virtue, industriously
promoted among all ranks and degrees of people.
"In this general depravity, when even the Pulpit has lost great part of
its weight, and the Clergy are considered as a body of _interested_ men,
the Author thought he should be able to answer it to his own heart, be
the success what it would, if he threw in his mite towards introducing a
Reformation so much wanted: And he imagined, that if in an age given up
to diversion and entertainment, he could _steal in_, as may be said, and
investigate the great doctrines of Christianity under the fashionable
guise of an amusement; he should be most likely to serve his purpose;
remembring that of the Poet:
"_A verse may find him who a sermon flies,
"And turn delight into a sacrifice._
"He was resolved therefore to attempt something that never yet had been
done. He considered, that the Tragic poets have as seldom made their
heroes true objects of pity, as the Comic theirs laudable ones of
imitation: And still more rarely have made them in their deaths look
forward to a _future Hope_. And thus, when they die, they seem totally
to perish. Death, in such instances, must appear terrible. It must be
considered as the greatest evil. But why is Death set in shocking
lights, when it is the universal lot?
"He has indeed thought fit to paint the death of the wicked as terrible
as he could paint it. But he has endeavoured to draw that of the good in
such an amiable manner, that the very Balaams of the world should not
forbear to wish that their latter end might be like that of the Heroine.
"And after all, what is the _poetical justice_ so much contended for by
some, as the generality of writers have managed it," but another sort of
dispensation than that with which God, by Revelation, teaches us, He has
thought fit to exercise mankind; whom placing here only in a state of
probation, he hath so intermingled good and evil, as to necessitate us
to look forward for a more equal dispensation of both.
The author of the History (or rather Dramatic Narrative) of Clarissa, is
therefore well justified by the _Christian System_, in deferring to
extricate suffering Virtue to the time in which it will meet with the
_Completion_ of its Reward.
But not absolutely to shelter the conduct observed in it under the
sanction of Religion [an authority perhaps not of the greatest weight
with some of our modern critics] it must be observed, that the author is
justified in its Catastrophe by the greatest master of reason, and the
best judge of composition, that ever lived. The learned Reader knows we
must mean ARISTOTLE; whose sentiments in this matter we shall beg leave
to deliver in the words of a very amiable writer of our own Country.