From Letter 59:
[From Roger Solmes}]TO MISS CLARISSA HARLOWE SUNDAY, MARCH 26. DEAREST MADAM,
I think myself a most unhappy man, in that I have never yet been able to pay my respects to you with youre consent, for one halfe-hour. I have something to communicat to you that concernes you much, if you be pleased to admit me to youre speech. Youre honour is concerned in it, and the honour of all youre familly. It relates to the designes of one whom you are sed to valew more than he desarves; and to some of his reprobat actions; which I am reddie to give you convincing proofes of the truth of. I may appear to be interested in it: but, neverthelesse, I am reddie to make oathe, that every tittle is true: and you will see what a man you are sed to favour. But I hope not so, for your owne honour.
Pray, Madam, vouchsafe me a hearing, as you valew your honour and familly: which will oblidge, dearest Miss,
Your most humble and most faithful servant, ROGER SOLMES.
I wait below for the hope of admittance.
…
TO ROGER SOLMES, ESQ. SIR,
Whatever you have to communicate to me, which concerns my honour, may as well be done by writing as by word of mouth. If Mr. Lovelace is any of my concern, I know not that therefore he ought to be yours: for the usage I receive on your account [I must think it so!] is so harsh, that were there not such a man in the world as Mr. Lovelace, I would not wish to see Mr. Solmes, no, not for one half-hour, in the way he is pleased to be desirous to see me. I never can be in any danger from Mr. Lovelace, (and, of consequence, cannot be affected by any of your discoveries,) if the proposal I made be accepted. You have been acquainted with it no doubt. If not, be pleased to let my friends know, that if they will rid me of my apprehensions of one gentleman, I will rid them of their of another: And then, of what consequence to them, or to me, will it be, whether Mr. Lovelace be a good man, or a bad? And if not to them, nor to me, I see not how it can be of any to you. But if you do, I have nothing to say to that; and it will be a christian part if you will expostulate with him upon the errors you have discovered, and endeavour to make him as good a man, as, no doubt, you are yourself, or you would not be so ready to detect and expose him.
Excuse me, Sir: but, after my former letter to you, and your ungenerous perseverance; and after this attempt to avail yourself at the expense of another man’s character, rather than by your own proper merit; I see not that you can blame any asperity in her, whom you have so largely contributed to make unhappy.
CL. HARLOWE.
…
Forbid to write to my aunt, I took a bolder liberty. I wrote a few lines to my mother; beseeching her to procure me leave to throw myself at my father’s feet, and hers, if I must go, (nobody else present,) to beg pardon for the trouble I had given them both, and their blessings; and to receive their commands as to my removal, and the time for it, from their own lips.
‘What new boldness this!—Take it back; and bid her learn to obey,’ was my mother’s angry answer, with my letter returned, unopened.
But that I might omit nothing, that had an appearance of duty, I wrote a few lines to my father himself, to the same purpose; begging, that he would not turn me out of his house, without his blessing. But this, torn in two pieces, and unopened, was brought me up again by Betty, with an air, one hand held up, the other extended, the torn letter in her open palm; and a See here!—What a sad thing is this!—Nothing will do but duty, Miss!—Your papa said, Let her tell me of deeds!—I’ll receive no words from her. And so he tore the letter, and flung the pieces at my head.
From Letter 60:
This morning early my uncle Harlowe came hither. He sent up the enclosed very tender letter. It has made me wish I could oblige him. You will see how Mr. Solmes’s ill qualities are glossed over in it. What blemishes dies affection hide!—But perhaps they may say to me, What faults does antipathy bring to light!
Be pleased to send me back this letter of my uncle by the first return.
SUNDAY NIGHT, OR RATHER MONDAY MORNING.
I must answer you, though against my own resolution. Every body loves you; and you know they do. The very ground you walk upon is dear to most of us. But how can we resolve to see you? There is no standing against your looks and language. It is our loves makes us decline to see you. How can we, when you are resolved not to do what we are resolved you shall do? I never, for my part, loved any creature, as I loved you from your infancy till now. And indeed, as I have often said, never was there a young creature so deserving of our love. But what is come to you now! Alas! alas! my dear kinswoman, how you fail in the trial!
I have read the letters you enclosed. At a proper time, I may shew them to my brother and sister: but they will receive nothing from you at present.
For my part, I could not read your letter to me, without being unmanned. How can you be so unmoved yourself, yet so able to move every body else? How could you send such a letter to Mr. Solmes? Fie upon you! How strangely are you altered!
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Two questions here:Does Clarissa's refusal to hear what Roger has to say parallel her family's refusal to listen to her objections? There's a lot of "hearing" and "refusing to hear" going on. What does it say about the stability/continuity of a narrative identity if a) it's so wrapped in what others pick and choose of the parts of your narrative they want to read?I guess what I'm asking (very unclearly) is where the novel seems to stand on how much the responsibility for constructing an identity resides in the narrator and how much in the audience?
What do we make of this silence on the distracting punctuation and spelling in Solmes's letter? I am fascinated that Clarissa doesn't take the opportunity to say something to Anna about his education, literacy, etc. (which at that time – well, in ours too – would be associated with honor, if not honorable in itself). The rhetorical function of these "errors" is to demonstrate to readers (and in the world of the novel, to Anna) that Solmes's character is flawed. But more than that, they seem to represent how grossly Solmes doesn't meet Clarissa's expectations for a partner. They are a raw reminder of how disgusted Clarissa is by him. But I still wonder, in a culture steeped in letter writing, how often these sorts of errors were made amongst educated people – and how were they looked upon? Clarissa sometimes explains to Anna that she's written something hurriedly, as soon as she could sit down, and yet in the absolute stress of her family situation, she manages to pen what many would call grammatically flawless prose. Since Clarissa is silent about Solmes's writing, readers of the novel likely pick up on the errors, connect them to Solmes's character, and continue to sympathize with Clarissa (if they were already sympathizing with her). For me, these errors are almost a secret joke between us readers and Richardson.
I think the silence on that subject (at least here) is telling, too.Does Clarissa omit judgment because it is implied? And if so, would she think of herself as lowly or lesser if she did explicitly point out his flaws? Rather than just put his general demeanor under scrutiny?If his uncouth manner is the object of Clarissa's disdain, then she certainly wouldn't want to put herself in that category of bad manners either.
I, too, was distracted by Solmes' "errors" in his letter, but I thought the misspellings (if you can even call them that during this time period – when was spelling standardized? Late 18th century? I could be completely off on that…) were just a result of the immediacy of his writing. He is writing to Clarissa hoping for a meeting and an immediate response from her, so I was under the impression he may have scribbled this letter quite quickly when he arrived at the Harlowes' residence given the unique spelling of some of the terms he uses. He is writing in a time sensitive situation since he "wait[s] below for the hope of admittance," and because of his limited time, he does not obsess over word choice and spelling.Also, given Clarissa's silence on this subject, I thought perhaps these "errors" and individualized spellings were acceptable; maybe Clarissa knew he had not labored over the letter for several hours and was being understanding?
I was actually quite impressed by Clarissa’s agency in her letter to Mr. Solmes. She makes no references to Solmes that could possibly mislead him into thinking she desires him romantically; she even coldly addresses him as “Sir” and directly states how unhappy he makes her because of his incessant pursuit of her affection. But her agency here (and in the next letter) is so complicated because this is not her first attempt to deny Solmes – he continues to completely ignore her wishes, which I think points back to our discussion last week that Solmes is actually courting the entire Harlowe family – not necessarily Clarissa. And I think that given that information, we can see Solmes’ letters, including this one, merely as performances. He is writing to show the family that he “genuinely” cares for Clarissa, even though she has rejected him. To (sort of) touch on Steven’s question here, I think that because Solmes is likely putting on a show for the family and continually ignoring Clarissa’s requests that he end his attempts of courting her, we do not really see a genuine author/reader relationship here. Even though she writes to him, she is still ultimately silenced by his refusal to acknowledge the content of her writing. He simply sees a response at all as a reason to continue writing to her.On a similar note, as this excerpt of the letter shows, Clarissa writes to her mother but with no effect, as her mother refuses to read her letter and even rips the letter in half: “'What new boldness this!—Take it back; and bid her learn to obey,' was my mother's angry answer, with my letter returned, unopened.” Thus, Clarissa writes and sends the letter, but her voice is still left unheard. Again the agency Clarissa has when she writes is, I think, quite clear; however, that agency is continually denied by Solmes and her entire family, including her mother, since these readers refuse to accept Clarissa’s wishes even when they actually read her letters.
Reading all these sharp comments, I feel completely "scooped" (that'll teach me to get to the postings earlier. I really like Steve's question about where responsibility for identity construction resides. We all feel in some way that we have both the responsibilty and the power to shape our identities in some primary way (even as we recognize "influences" upon us); Clarissa I think felt this in an untroubled way before she grew into being a marriageable object. Obviously Clarissa's most important audience in her writings–her family–has all the real power now: political, social, and emotional. But of courses Clarissa has a third audience–from the start Anna reminds her that her writing will record the justification for all who read the record. I think her power in constructing herself TO us shows in our reaction to Solmes's letter; if we do indeed read his flaws as revealing his character, Clarissa has done a very good job of helping us construct her as she would be seen.
Clarissa does write, at several points, about Solmes's virtual illiteracy. However, I think I understand why she doesn't correct his errors. (I do think the errors probably go beyond standardized spelling. I suspect Richardson makes them so egregious that we see Solmes as a buffoon.) Given how important writing is in the novel, I think Solmes's wretched writing can be taken as a kind of moral defect.