One Great Family: Domestic Relationships in Samuel Richardson's Novels. Simone Höhn
to do so or not. Surely, sir, a young creature ought not to be obliged to make all these sacrifices but for such a man as she can approve. (148–9)
Since the status of wife entails a re-construction of the bride’s entire network of duty and of her very identity, it should never be forced on a woman.
Besides the diversity of duties, Clarissa (and her creator) draw on her general dutifulness as evidence for her good motives in this case. As both Anna and Lovelace observe, and as the Harlowes themselves occasionally complain, it is they who are blamed in their contention with Clarissa. From the first letter, it is clear that Clarissa is both “the subject of the public talk” and “the public care” (39). Indeed, as Anna formulates it, “[e]very eye, in short, is upon you with the expectation of an example” (40). Despite her integration into her family and the community as a whole, Clarissa’s merits have singled her out, disposing people to take side with her (at least in theory), but also ensuring the inconveniences of public talk – which will enrage, but not otherwise influence, the Harlowes. (Lovelace, too, has been attracted by public talk about Clarissa’s virtues, cf. 143). While the “family union” (80) lasted, Clarissa’s reputation reflected positively on the Harlowes (584). However, once she resists one of their commands, the “union” is broken, and the contention invites comparison between the relative merits of the different family members. Thus, if Clarissa is in the right, it follows that blame must attach to the other Harlowes, and if she is in the wrong, then the family paragon must have feet of clay. To compel her to obey, the Harlowes quickly confine Clarissa’s sphere of action. She is ‘discouraged’ from attending church (62), an action which in itself casts doubt on the purity of their motives, as “no man must […] absent himself [from public worship] without a just cause” (AllestreeAllestree, Richard 49; Sunday II; cf. also LatimerLatimer, Bonnie, Making Gender 144).
Given their negligence of the duty of public worship, it is not surprising that the Harlowes also confine Clarissa’s actions in the worldly sphere and limit her opportunities to fulfil her duties to her ‘neighbours’. The keys needed for, as well as symbolising, her housekeeping are taken away; servants are discouraged from talking to her; she is forbidden to visit, leave the house or correspond. The only freedom left to her is that of going into the garden – a freedom which, on the level of the ‘real author’, is necessary for the continuance of the story. On the level of the diegesis, it is motivated by the Harlowes’ trust in their servants’ watchfulness (cf. 164) and Clarissa’s continuing ‘prudence’. More than this, however, it highlights the way in which Clarissa is less confined to a place than barred from places, people, and action. Her imprisonment involves a sudden stop not only of her socialising (although, as Uncle Antony taunts her, she was never “fond of” visiting anyway; 155), but of her visits to the poor, of alms-giving, of advising and being advised by her friends or mentors. She loses the opportunity of doing active work in the household or of teaching the servants. That she has done the latter is implied by the gullible, treacherous servant Joseph Leman, who tells Lovelace (and himself) that he has “kept my young lady’s pressepts always in mind” (386) at the very time that he has become the villain’s agent. If Clarissa’s “precepts” have done little good in this case, they are at least preferable to the Harlowes’ choice of Leman as a spy on Lovelace – something which gives the latter an opportunity to corrupt him.
By reducing her scope of action to the one duty they want her to perceive, Clarissa’s family hope to subdue her strength. Succeeding in cutting off Clarissa’s correspondence out of the house would amount to a restriction of her field of action to private prayer and meditation, on the one hand, and to her duty as a daughter, on the other. They basically set the form of hierarchy – the almost unlimited duty of child to parent – against the form of the network. It is James Harlowe junior who expresses this point most openly: “But, sweet child! as your worthy mamma Norton calls you, think a little less of the matrimonial (at least till you come into that state), and a little more of the filial, duty” (223). There is an element of hubris to such an enforced reduction of Clarissa’s sphere of action: the Harlowes – even while neglecting some of their own duties – place themselves at the centre of Clarissa’s obligations, a place which is due only to God. As the novel plays out and Clarissa’s sphere of action is further reduced, she does indeed focus her duty on its ultimate source: “GOD ALMIGHTY WOULD NOT LET ME DEPEND FOR COMFORT UPON ANY BUT HIMSELF” (1356). Thus, by preventing Clarissa from attending to all her duties, both the Harlowes and Lovelace force on her a single-minded attention to God, the ultimate source and centre of all duties. However, even here, Clarissa does not neglect any subsidiary duties, as is shown, among other things, in her meticulous inclusion of everyone connected to her in her will, and in her gradual, conscious “weaning” (cf. 1306, 1372) herself of even her dearest friendships.
As the Harlowes attempt to confine Clarissa, they also confine themselves. A little over a month after she herself has been stopped from church-going (cf. 62), the heroine can remark: “Nobody, it seems, will go to church this day [April 9]. No blessing to be expected perhaps upon views so worldly, and in some so cruel” (362). More charitable constructions would be possible; after all, the family had been shocked and frightened by Lovelace’s appearance at their church not long ago (where, significantly but “happily”, Clarissa’s brother was absent; 140). Nevertheless, their voluntary absence is an indication that they set their aims concerning Clarissa above public worship – she, in contrast, never voluntarily stops going to church, even at the risk of falling into the hands of her parents, after the elopement, or of Lovelace, after her first escape from him. The Harlowes’ negligence is at least more harmless than Lovelace’s attitude, however: when Clarissa prepares to go to church for the first time in London, he is surprised and almost comically unprepared: “Who could have dreamt of such a whim as this?” (538).
The Harlowes’ exclusion of anyone who disagrees with their views about Clarissa’s marriage similarly suggests their rejection of moral considerations in this matter. They stop Mrs. Norton’s visits to Clarissa, “her opinion not being to their liking” – although, as Clarissa claims, “she is the person of all the world, next to my mamma, the most likely to prevail upon me were the measures they are engaged in, reasonable measures” (62). Clarissa’s mother, of course, fails to prevail upon her. Indeed, Clarissa even struggles with her reluctance to ask Anna Howe for sincere advice concerning Solmes, fearing that even this friend may advise her to marry him (66). However, Clarissa’s reluctance to accept unpalatable advice is clearly surpassed by that of her family, who reject her request that an “impartial person”, such as Dr. Lewin, judge between her and her brother (227). Clarissa’s cousin Dolly even reports that Dr. Lewin disapproves so much of the Harlowes’ behaviour that they have arranged for a different clergyman to marry her to Solmes (364). Other family sins emerge as the Harlowes grow more aggressive against both Lovelace and Clarissa: greed, haughtiness, implacableness, desire for revenge. James swears in front of the entire family, “unchecked either by eye or countenance” (60). Most shockingly, Mr. Harlowe’s curse of Clarissa – consigning her not only to worldly ruin, but to hell – directly clashes with parents’ duty to bless their children and runs counter to the injunction that when we pray, we must “look that we ask nothing that is unlawful, as revenge upon our enemies, or the like” (AllestreeAllestree, Richard 123; Sunday V).4
However, the Harlowes seem to be caught themselves in the conflicting axioms of a system which grants some individuals almost unlimited authority, but also requires every person to be just to everyone with whom he or she is connected. All members of the family suffer at least occasionally from the deadlock in which they, as well as Clarissa, find themselves. Repeatedly, the more kind-hearted ones, like Mrs. Harlowe or Uncle John, try to plead for Clarissa, only to be brought to order again. Indeed, John Harlowe’s simile of the “embattled phalanx” (150) is telling: the family agreement of enforcing Clarissa’s obedience is based on military discipline and control. The individuals comprising this seemingly strong and privileged group are as much entangled as Clarissa is. The celebrated “family unity” transpires to have been a phantom all along.
1.3 Duty and interiority
If individual duty is conceptualised as a network of obligations rather than as a dualistic, hierarchical relationship