…she started, and a blush overspread her face, on hearing, as I also did, a sort of lumbering noise upon the stairs, as if a large trunk were bringing up between two people: and looking upon me with an eye of concern, Blunderers! said she, they have brought in something two hours before the time — Don’t be surprised, sir: it is all to save you trouble.
…
We all remaining silent, the women having their aprons at their eyes — Why this concern for nothing at all, said she? — If I am to be blamed for anything, it is for showing too much solicitude, as it may be thought, for this earthly part. I love to do everything for myself that I can do. I ever did. Every other material point is so far done and taken care of, that I have had leisure for things of lesser moment. Minutenesses may be observed where greater articles are not neglected for them. I might have had this to order, perhaps, when less fit to order it. I have no mother, no sister, no Mrs Norton, no Miss Howe, near me. Some of you must have seen this in a few days, if not now; perhaps have had the friendly trouble of directing it. And what is the difference of a few days to you, when I am gratified rather than discomposed by it? — I shall not die the sooner for such a preparation — Should not everybody make their will, that has anything to bequeath? And who that makes a will, should be afraid of a coffin? — My dear friends (to the women), I have considered these things; do not give me reason to think you have not, with such an object before you as you have had in me, for weeks.
The people around Clarissa have difficulty comprehending how someone could order her own coffin and keep it in her bedroom. This speaks to Clarissa's sense of herself as independent, but it also strikes a chord in Belford, who just watched Belton die. As Clarissa and Belford grow closer, their differences in perspectives on death become even starker.
I just want to say, before I get involved in critical commentary, that I cried a lot as I was reading the letters around Clarissa's dying. Just putting it on the table. . . .
I already told Debra this yesterday, but I will also go on record that I needed many tissues to get through this week's reading. And it just keeps going–so many levels to this, in her preparation, the act of dying, and then the fallout, how it's received, and…now I'm in to next week's reading. But–whew.
I was struck at how logical and calm Clarissa was in these letters, but death will do that. She has spiritually risen in some sense above those around her. Her independence is asserted and her hand is the one that gets to decide the coffin and inscriptions. Clarissa is the one that gets to choose and shape her death — not Lovelace or anyone else. For Clarissa, death is the promise of eternal joy and is much more a promising idea than living on earth where her life has been ruined. The symbols on the coffin struck me the most. The hourglass representing how short life is and especially the lily. Clarissa’s grace and beauty has been compared to the flower and the fact that it is broken represents her “fall.” I think it’s also of note that the lily is also a Christian symbol. It’s associated with the Virgin Mary (purity and virginity), the trinity, three virtues (charity, hope, and faith), and humility. Clarissa's faith is strong and the breaking of the lily represents her loss of purity and so on. I think this letter just showed how strong Clarissa truly is.
It is moving and powerful. But I was also struck–and surprised–by the line that Richardson gives to Clarissa here, and that Jessica highlights: “I love to do everything for myself that I can do. I ever did.” Here is the strength for strength answer to Lovelace, and to her uncomprehending family. All thought her virtuous because she acted as they wanted her to. The greater fact is that she acted as she knew she should (and wanting what should be is the amazing virtue she possesses); when that accorded with the desires of morally lesser people, everything was just fine with them–and when it conflicted with their own narrow desires, they could not see what it meant, or why it should be honored. More shame to them.
I think part of my answer to Jessica's question is one of perspective from Clarissa and Belford's point of view: Belford is focusing on the horrors of death (which he has lately seen much of) and reflexively asking himself what he should do in life to combat such terrors–whereas Clarissa is focusing, as Keri mentions, on the joy and peace that death can bring after a life well-lived.
How true it is here in this letter, as elsewhere, that the perspectives people have on death reflect how they have lived in their own eyes. Clarissa, who has forgiven herself and others, can view death as peace, while Belford has a lot of work to do on this earth before reaching that point.
I was also struck by Clarissa's fierce will and independence, as Tony mentions. She focuses so much here on making sure that “Every other material point is so far done and taken care of…Minutenesses may be observed…” Clarissa shows her strength in these later volumes in writing her story in letters, giving voice to what would otherwise remain unspoken, and also writing her own script right up to the end.
She ultimately inscribes her final moments (not just the coffin itself as the symbol of them) as she wishes them to appear–and so they do, which speaks to her strength in creating her own agentive identity until the end.
This letter has generated so much great discussion already. I, too, focused on the line that Jessica highlighted and Tony picked up in his response about Clarissa's agency and independence she references here. I thought that line also applied very well to Clarissa's attempt to finish her story as best she can on her own and at least set up the remainder of her narrative by compiling and sending the packets of papers to be delivered to various individuals so they can complete the narrative once she dies (which I think is essentially what Rachel was saying in her response). To Clarissa, the coffin is just another detail in her preparation – it is not sad; rather, it is another indicator of the peaceful journey she is about to embark upon, as Kendra noted in her comment.
To add to this discussion, I would just like to say that I was really struck by the description of the coffin being carried up to Clarissa's bedchamber as “a sort of lumbering noise upon the stairs, as if a large trunk were bringing up between two people.” It is a short description, but for some reason, it really made me stop reading for a second. The physical burden of the coffin on its carriers really symbolized, for me at least, the weight that Clarissa's impending death has on everyone around her. Everyone must endure her “lumbering” death, and the coffin represents the heaviness on everyone's hearts as they watch Clarissa's health decline so rapidly.
I'm definitely starting to get really sad. We are no longer dealing with Clarissa telling her relatives and friends that it is silly to make future plans as she hopes not to be around for them. We are now reading Clarissa's active preparation for death.
I thought it particularly important to note the date she chooses to record as her death – April 10th, the day she left her father's home. In a way, her “death” would have been sometime that week had she been forced to marry Solmes. But it's so sad to think of how she has slowly been dying since that time, and it's now September! Clarissa is dying unreconciled with her family, separated from her friends, and deprived of her virtue. She is doing it on her own terms, at least.
In addition, I like what Kendra was saying about how composed Clarissa is. Even in volume seven, she is wildly shifting between calm and overly-emotional. For most of volume eight, she seems very resigned to her death and is not only composed, but happy about it. She seems to be finally receiving what she has wished for so long, and she doesn't particularly care for any one else's opinion about the matter.
Clarissa is not only extremely composed about her coming death, as many have said, she's also graciously trying not to become a burden to those around her. She doesn't want Belford or anyone else to have to worry about buying a coffin. Why should she trouble other people with her death when she is capable of making matters easier herself? Such “earthly” concerns don't bother her anymore, as she sees them as necessary preparations for when she no longer has to think about what happens on earth.
At least her very, very slow death is giving us a chance to say goodbye? She could've died suddenly instead (murdered by Lovelace, perhaps…although that seems a little out of character as it would mean that he purposely ended the game forever). Would that have been worse, or better? Either way, so sad.