An angry dialogue, a scolding-bout rather, has passed between my sister and me. Did you think I could scold, my dear? She was sent up to me, upon my refusal to see Mr. Solmes—let loose upon me, I think!—No intention on their parts to conciliate! It seems evident that I am given up to my brother and her, by general consent.
I will do justice to every thing she said against me, which carried any force with it. As I ask for your approbation or disapprobation of my conduct, upon the facts I lay before you, I should think it the sign of a very bad cause, if I endeavoured to mislead my judge.. . .
O child, says she, methinks you are as pleasant to the full as I am: I begin to have some hopes of you now. But do you think I will rob my sister of her humble servant? Had he first addressed himself to me, proceeded she, something might have been said: but to take my younger sister’s refusal! No, no, child; it is not come to that neither! Besides, that would be to leave the door open in your heart for you know who, child; and we would fain bar him out, if possible. In short [and then she changed both her tone and her looks] had I been as forward as somebody, to throw myself into the arms of one of the greatest profligates in England, who had endeavoured to support his claim to me through the blood of my brother, then might all my family join together to save me from such a wretch, and to marry me as fast as they could, to some worthy man, who might opportunely offer himself. And now, Clary, all’s out, and make the most of it.
Did not this deserve a severe return? Do, say it did, to justify my reply.—Alas! for my poor sister! said I—The man was not always so great a profligate. How true is the observation, That unrequited love turns to deepest hate!
I thought she would beat me. But I proceeded—I have heard often of my brother’s danger, and my brother’s murderer. When so little ceremony is made with me, why should I not speak out?—Did he not seek to kill the other, if he could have done it? Would my brother have given Lovelace his life, had it been in his power?—The aggressor should not complain.—And, as to opportune offers, would to Heaven some one had offered opportunely to somebody! It is not my fault, Bella, the opportune gentleman don’t come!
Could you, my dear, have shewn more spirit? I expected to feel the weight of her hand. She did come up to me, with it held up: then, speechless with passion, ran half way down the stairs, and came up again.
When she could speak—God give me patience with you!
Amen, said I: but you see, Bella, how ill you bear the retort you provoke. Will you forgive me; and let me find a sister in you, as I am sorry, if you had reason to think me unsisterly in what I have said?
Kitty can scratch! Do we learn something important about Clarissa here? Is it unflattering?
I think this is a great example of a letter that shows Clarissa’s acts of supposed transparency in her letters, where they meet with her skewed perceptions of others.She claims, “I will do justice to every thing she said against me,” but then immediately qualifies that with “which carried any force with it.” I’m not sure what to make of that: I’ll tell you everything, but especially what was forceful or important. I think we do this in our narratives of our stories—but we don’t always say it.And then she proceeds to portray her sister with some audacious diction: “She ridiculed me,” “She sneeringly pronounced,” “She raved extremely.” Pretty wicked-leaning verbs and adverbs (oh, the adverb! Shelter of the story-teller who’s used up their arsenal of nasty verbs but still has other insults to throw).Whereas Clarissa describes herself in glowing terms: “I vindicated,” “With equal warmth,” “I resented her reflections.”As a result of this kind of double-sight, I see Clary’s hypocrisy here, but more importantly, the lovely irony of her relating her own skewed judgment in writing to her friend (who is already against Arabella and requires no convincing).Clarissa writes, “How true is the observation, That unrequited love turns to deepest hate!” She’s talking about her sister and Lovelace here, but we as readers (now or then) can see that, if this also applies to Clarissa and her sister as well, then perhaps she loved her sister a bit more than she initially let on.She could describe a past dislike of her sister to integrate better into her present dislike—in which case, Clarissa is bordering on what Fitzgerald saw as one of the distinguishing features of memoir (not of blogs): a kind of narrative unity or neatness, which presents the present in as much harmony with the past as possible.
This letter definitely highlights some emotions in Clarissa that were not particularly present in the previous letters we have read so far. As Rachel points out, Clarissa describes herself in glowing terms and her sister as a villain of sorts. Clarissa could be read as a growing character here, because for the first time she seems to delight somewhat in being vindictive and "fighting back" whereas before she lamented and threw herself upon the floor.I also find it interesting that there are no excerpts from Letter 40 in which we see that Clarissa is a bit brighter than we all seem to think. She seems aware that Lovelace is showing off his education and has his charm turned on for all it is worth. Granted the foreshadowing in Letter 40 and her pointing out that she is aware that Lovelace isn't all he seems to be could be read as somehow transparent (183-185). For instance, she might be trying too hard to appear that she is not naive as she has been made out to be.
"Meow!" is right, Steve. I love finally being able to see Clarissa get angry with someone! Previous to this, I'm reminded of Letter 29 when Clarissa tries writing to her sister from the confines of her room, since she has been ordered to stay there by her family. In letter 29, Clarissa takes a pleading tone with Arabella and implores Arabella to "pity" her and referring to her as Clarissa's "companion" and "adviser" (139). Now, not only does Clarissa abandon the tactic she used before to appeal to Arabella's love for her as a sister, she deliberately attacks Arabella using something that seems to cause her great pain (her unrequited love for Lovelace). Clarissa seems to have some remorse in retrospect (when she repeatedly asks Miss Howe whether she was justified in her actions and when she refers to Arabella as her "poor sister"), but the fact that she did something like this at all (for me) signals a turning point for her character in finally gaining some nerve instead of only feeling sorry for herself.