I am extremely concerned, my dearest friend, for the disturbance that have happened in your family. I know how it must hurt you to become the subject of the public talk: and yet, upon an occasion so generally known, it is impossible but that whatever relates to a young lady, whose distinguished merits have made her the public care, should engage every body’s attention. I long to have the particulars from yourself; and of the usage I am told you receive upon an accident you could not help; and in which, as far as I can learn, the sufferer was the aggressor. . .
Be this as it may, every body pities you. So steady, so uniform in your conduct: so desirous, as you always said, of sliding through life to the end of it unnoted; and, as I may add, not wishing to be observed even for your silent benevolence; sufficiently happy in the noble consciousness which attends it: Rather useful than glaring, your deserved motto; though now, to your regret, pushed into blaze, as I may say: and yet blamed at home for the faults of others—how must such a virtue suffer on every hand!—yet it must be allowed, that your present trial is but proportioned to your prudence. . . .
My mother, and all of us, like the rest of the world, talk of nobody but you on this occasion, and of the consequences which may follow from the resentments of a man of Mr. Lovelace’s spirit; who, as he gives out, has been treated with high indignity by your uncles. My mother will have it, that you cannot now, with any decency, either see him, or correspond with him. . . .
Write to me therefore, my dear, the whole of your story from the time that Mr. Lovelace was first introduced into your family; and particularly an account of all that passed between him and your sister; about which there are different reports; some people scrupling not to insinuate that the younger sister has stolen a lover from the elder: and pray write in so full a manner as may satisfy those who know not so much of your affairs as I do. If anything unhappy should fall out from the violence of such spirits as you have to deal with, your account of all things previous to it will be your best justification.
You see what you draw upon yourself by excelling all your sex. Every individual of it who knows you, or has heard of you, seems to think you answerable to her for your conduct in points so very delicate and concerning.
Every eye, in short, is upon you with the expectation of an example. I wish to heaven you were at liberty to pursue your own methods: all would then, I dare say, be easy, and honourably ended. But I dread your directors and directresses; for your mother, admirably well qualified as she is to lead, must submit to be led. Your sister and brother will certainly put you out of your course. . . .
Will you oblige me with a copy of the preamble to the clauses in your grandfather’s will in your favour; and allow me to send it to my aunt Harman?—She is very desirous to see it. Yet your character has so charmed her, that, though a stranger to you personally, she assents to the preference given you in that will, before she knows the testator’s reasons for giving you that preference.
It's interesting that Anna initiates the correspondence and begins the novel. Thus our first take on the story is from the outside, and mediated through multiple retellings. We are also reminded that Clarissa is always writing to someone. Clarissa is obviously a public persona, someone admired by so many people that she is almost a paragon. Anna assumes an intimacy between herself and Clarissa, and is able to request the full history: "Write to me therefore, my dear, the whole of your story from the time that Mr. Lovelace was first introduced into your family; and particularly an account of all that passed between him and your sister; about which there are different reports." I am also intrigued by the fact that Anna ends her letter with a request for a copy of the preamble to Clarissa's grandfather's will.What do you make of this first letter?
It's interesting how much Anna enables Richardson to frame in just a two-page letter: Clarissa's nature and reputation, the immediate plunge into family disturbanes, the violence between her brother and Lovelace, her brother's unpleasant nature, the threats possible from Lovelace's own temper, an excuse for Clarissa to write in as full detail as possible–and finally, a reminder of what the whole novel will be: "your account of all things . . . will be your justification."Whew!
I was also struck by the fact that not only does Anna end with a request for Clarissa's grandfather's will, but that Clarissa was so willing to offer it up to Anna in her next letter. It seems like a very strange request to make of a friend–what is Anna's aunt looking for? Anna's tone makes it sound like her aunt already knows that she will be in favor of Clarissa's grandfather's decision to grant Clarissa so much…but if that's the case, why the need to examine the preamble at all? Something seems fishy here.
I also noticed how Anna assumes intimacy. In the second letter, Clarissa says she thinks Anna is sincere but maybe over-doing the politeness or maybe being unnecessarily flattering. My first thought while reading this letter was that Anna was perhaps flattering Clarissa so that Clarissa would be more likely to provide her with the information about Lovelace and what just happened with her family. But later recognizing that they seem to share a sisterly intimacy and closeness, I wondered if Anna felt the need to reassure Clarissa, remind her that her public character is unaffected by the recent events – in that sense, Anna is just being a good, perceptive, thoughtful friend. I'm not sure what to make of Anna requesting a copy of Clarissa's grandfather's will. The way I interpret this request is that Anna's aunt, a stranger to Clarissa, somehow knows of her and approves of the apparently prominent position in her grandfather's will. Why Anna's aunt wants to see the will, I'm really not sure. It seems like a very personal, potentially intrusive request.
I agree that in addition to starting the novel in motion, the first letter also presents Clarissa as a paragon of sorts. Clarissa is a model woman and as Anna notes through "the faults of others" Clarissa is blamed for the Lovelace incident. Of course another interesting note is that Anna mentions her mother warning Clarissa to not see or correspond with Lovelace and yet in the following letters Clarissa does say that she responded to one of his letters after he was no longer welcome at her house.The fact that Anna would want the preamble is intriguing because the request for the preamble of Clarissa's grandfather's will appears to be a legitimization of Clarissa's character, not only for Anna's aunt but for the readers as well.
I was curious about that as well; I wrote it off at first as a device (somehow, I assume, Clarissa's propertied-ness will be important later in the novel). But on thinking about it, it seems like the use to which the "preamble" will be put is important. Anna doesn't need to see it, and apparently her aunt Herman doesn't need to see it either (at least as proof of Clarissa's good character – she believes in that already). One thing I think it's doing is reminding us of the circulation of Clarissa's reputation. Anna wants the preamble so she can show it to people. People who are curious about Clarissa and know about her situation. These people already believe in Clarissa's good character, but her grandfather's "reasons" are important. It's like they want the details of the story for the sake of the story. Clarissa's situation is a story that people tell at dinner, or while taking a "turn" in the gardens of their estates. More details make a better story. A better story makes for more repetitions, and more repetitions reinforce Clarissa's good reputation. I think it's a place where the novel reminds us that identity can be as much about the stories people tell about you as it is about the stories you tell about yourself.
The will request strikes me more as a "textual necessity" for the furtherance of the novel–a way to get the will to the novel's readers–rather than anything all that germane to plot or characters. It's a bit clunky, but it gets the job done.
I like the idea of identity as stories other people tell about you. Clarissa is very concerned about her reputation, which makes sense given the difficult situation she's put in. Her character is everything to her. As Tony pointed out, Anna reminds her that "your account of all things . . . will be your justification."
I really liked the idea that the novel begins with Anna rather than Clarissa. By having Anna begin the correspondence, Richardson points out the epistolary nature of the novel (as you explained above), but he also sets up a nice framework for the story. The reader is automatically drawn into the text because Anna is asking for more information about the story she has heard regarding Clarissa's life. We, as readers, come upon the story after it has already started. Richardson does not include a casual beginning to the novel to introduce characters and places before slowly building the plot. We are thrust into the story in the middle, completely clueless as to what has happened between Clarissa and Mr. Lovelace, but we know that something has happened. I think that Anna’s interest in Clarissa’s situation sparks readers’ interest, engaging them in the plot right from the start.
I really liked the idea that the novel begins with Anna rather than Clarissa. By having Anna begin the correspondence, Richardson points out the epistolary nature of the novel (as you explained above), but he also sets up a nice framework for the story. The reader is automatically drawn into the text because Anna is asking for more information about the story she has heard regarding Clarissa's life. We, as readers, come upon the story after it has already started. Richardson does not include a casual beginning to the novel to introduce characters and places before slowly building the plot. We are thrust into the story in the middle, completely clueless as to what has happened between Clarissa and Mr. Lovelace, but we know that something has happened. I think that Anna’s interest in Clarissa’s situation sparks readers’ interest, engaging them in the plot right from the start.
I agree–what a task! In laying out Anna's request–"Write to me therefore, my dear, the whole of your story," Richardson simultaneously establishes narrative momentum at another character's request (we want to know what happened, the _whole_ story, and we know it's coming) and sets the epistolary dynamic for much of the first volume (setting the expectations for the reader as well as the characters).I like this twist: Anna sitting in for us as readers, requesting more of the story, because of course that's what we want. And as a result, the stage is set for Clarissa to have a captive audience already, long before we actually learn the details.