After thinking about it, this letter tells me that 1) the rape was not what Lovelace had hoped, 2) it did not go as he planned, and 3) that there is nothing for him now that he has “achieved” his goal. In the last class it was mentioned that Lovelace was possibly impotent and as prideful as he is, he would NEVER mention not being able to perform. After all, Lovelace is all about performance. Which means that he was also more than likely disappointed that the rape did not go as he imagined or fantasized about. It was out of his control and he couldn't perform. The women gave Clarissa too much of the drug and even he was afraid of the sudden change in demeanor of Sinclair, describing her as a “dragon” and in animalistic terms. He did not have a lot of control in the rape. Finally, Lovelace has achieved his ultimate goal and test of Clarissa. It's over and he is feeling that all too common feeling that people feel when achieving a goal or finishing a really good novel. If he is pursuing Clarissa to fill some emptiness within him, the rape obviously did not do it and he is still empty. Then again, what else can Lovelace do to Clarissa? He literally can go no farther unless he murders her or something else sadistic and unlikely to happen.
What is striking about the letter is how much is omitted. Everything Kendra so smartly says we don't find out until much later. Reading this letter after we have read Clarissa's letters about the rape, helps us understand things in a way we didn't when we first encountered the letter.
My question is why does Richardson offer this letter and then wait for pages and pages to give us Clarissa's (much more detailed) version? A real narrative tease, I think.
Is it that he can't (as a novelist or eighteenth century moralist) imagine giving us the actual rape scene from the rapist's perspective? Or is it that he (and we) can't imagine Lovelace narrating an act that he is basically ashamed of (either because of his remorse at what he did, or–more likely–his recognition that he didn't “really” rape her because she was unconscious)? And by the way, I think eighteenth century law would mark him as a rapist precisely because he did drug her.
I completely agree with everything that has been said thus far. The omissions were seemingly done strategically to “tease” the reader and to give the reader the opportunity to “fill in” the narrative him/herself, which is quite strange because we have yet to see something like this in the novel. I think it also serves to kind of startle the reader and draw attention to what most would claim is the true turning point in the novel. The delayed information is also, I think, Lovelace's (and/or Richardson's) way of seducing the reader to continue reading the story–something like a cliff-hanger in a television series.
What also struck me here is the short, two-word sentence he includes here: “Clarissa lives.” As I mentioned on Kendra's post last week (I believe), I found it a bit odd that it is in this letter that Lovelace names Clarissa, specifically. She is not a “creature” here, as she is in so many of the other letters. She is also the agent of the sentence, which I think could foreshadow the renewed sense of agency we see from Clarissa, as we discussed last week. This short sentence demonstrates something of a resurrection of the strong-willed Clarissa we have seen throughout the novel.
Keri's phrasing is very helpful here–the letter does indeed “startle” any reader who's become accustomed the length of letter more typical for Lovelace. I think all the reasons given about are right about the why of Lovelace's brevity. His first key phrase, “I can go no farther” hits at several kinds of limitations: having raped Clarissa, there is nothing sexual left to be done; having finished his long course of deceit and contrivances, his planning for this “climax” is at an end; and with this double physical/intellectual culmination, his language and imagination having nothing left to practice upon. If he had stopped here, the letter would have power for all that it reveals. But that “Clarissa lives” rachets up the power and violence of the still unseen rape, and the real dangers he has put her in.
Tony, this is similar to what I was thinking. The “Clarissa lives” statement came as a surprise. It made me ask, “Were you expecting her to die?” and if so, “Lovelace, why were you willing to risk her life??”
Lovelace doesn't seem able to say much in this letter. All his writing to and about to Clarissa has been for the purpose of having her body. Language seems to fail him here. He adopts an odd style – short sentences, merely reporting. He also sounds disappointed on some level, as if achieving his goal didn't satisfy him. Perhaps this is because we know that only having her body isn't his only goal, and his sense that he “can go no farther” is a temporary feeling. He later acts on the belief that he *can* go farther.
One curiosity I have: would this have been the last letter in one of Richardson's installments? A “cliff hanger”? He would have to be interested in keeping people involved and reading, and I suspect that readers would have been surprised by this letter at the time – and likely curious to read more.
Given Lovelace's volubility on any topic he takes up, what do you make of this fourteen-word letter?
After thinking about it, this letter tells me that 1) the rape was not what Lovelace had hoped, 2) it did not go as he planned, and 3) that there is nothing for him now that he has “achieved” his goal. In the last class it was mentioned that Lovelace was possibly impotent and as prideful as he is, he would NEVER mention not being able to perform. After all, Lovelace is all about performance. Which means that he was also more than likely disappointed that the rape did not go as he imagined or fantasized about. It was out of his control and he couldn't perform. The women gave Clarissa too much of the drug and even he was afraid of the sudden change in demeanor of Sinclair, describing her as a “dragon” and in animalistic terms. He did not have a lot of control in the rape. Finally, Lovelace has achieved his ultimate goal and test of Clarissa. It's over and he is feeling that all too common feeling that people feel when achieving a goal or finishing a really good novel. If he is pursuing Clarissa to fill some emptiness within him, the rape obviously did not do it and he is still empty. Then again, what else can Lovelace do to Clarissa? He literally can go no farther unless he murders her or something else sadistic and unlikely to happen.
What is striking about the letter is how much is omitted. Everything Kendra so smartly says we don't find out until much later. Reading this letter after we have read Clarissa's letters about the rape, helps us understand things in a way we didn't when we first encountered the letter.
My question is why does Richardson offer this letter and then wait for pages and pages to give us Clarissa's (much more detailed) version? A real narrative tease, I think.
Is it that he can't (as a novelist or eighteenth century moralist) imagine giving us the actual rape scene from the rapist's perspective? Or is it that he (and we) can't imagine Lovelace narrating an act that he is basically ashamed of (either because of his remorse at what he did, or–more likely–his recognition that he didn't “really” rape her because she was unconscious)? And by the way, I think eighteenth century law would mark him as a rapist precisely because he did drug her.
I completely agree with everything that has been said thus far. The omissions were seemingly done strategically to “tease” the reader and to give the reader the opportunity to “fill in” the narrative him/herself, which is quite strange because we have yet to see something like this in the novel. I think it also serves to kind of startle the reader and draw attention to what most would claim is the true turning point in the novel. The delayed information is also, I think, Lovelace's (and/or Richardson's) way of seducing the reader to continue reading the story–something like a cliff-hanger in a television series.
What also struck me here is the short, two-word sentence he includes here: “Clarissa lives.” As I mentioned on Kendra's post last week (I believe), I found it a bit odd that it is in this letter that Lovelace names Clarissa, specifically. She is not a “creature” here, as she is in so many of the other letters. She is also the agent of the sentence, which I think could foreshadow the renewed sense of agency we see from Clarissa, as we discussed last week. This short sentence demonstrates something of a resurrection of the strong-willed Clarissa we have seen throughout the novel.
Keri's phrasing is very helpful here–the letter does indeed “startle” any reader who's become accustomed the length of letter more typical for Lovelace. I think all the reasons given about are right about the why of Lovelace's brevity. His first key phrase, “I can go no farther” hits at several kinds of limitations: having raped Clarissa, there is nothing sexual left to be done; having finished his long course of deceit and contrivances, his planning for this “climax” is at an end; and with this double physical/intellectual culmination, his language and imagination having nothing left to practice upon. If he had stopped here, the letter would have power for all that it reveals. But that “Clarissa lives” rachets up the power and violence of the still unseen rape, and the real dangers he has put her in.
Tony, this is similar to what I was thinking. The “Clarissa lives” statement came as a surprise. It made me ask, “Were you expecting her to die?” and if so, “Lovelace, why were you willing to risk her life??”
Lovelace doesn't seem able to say much in this letter. All his writing to and about to Clarissa has been for the purpose of having her body. Language seems to fail him here. He adopts an odd style – short sentences, merely reporting. He also sounds disappointed on some level, as if achieving his goal didn't satisfy him. Perhaps this is because we know that only having her body isn't his only goal, and his sense that he “can go no farther” is a temporary feeling. He later acts on the belief that he *can* go farther.
One curiosity I have: would this have been the last letter in one of Richardson's installments? A “cliff hanger”? He would have to be interested in keeping people involved and reading, and I suspect that readers would have been surprised by this letter at the time – and likely curious to read more.