The man, my dear, has got the letter!—What a strange diligence! I wish he mean me well, that he takes so much pains!—Yet, to be ingenuous, I must own, that I should be displeased if he took less—I wish, however, he had been an hundred miles off!—What an advantage have I given him over me!
Now the letter is out of my power, I have more uneasiness and regret than I had before. For, till now, I had a doubt, whether it should or should not go: and now I think it ought not to have gone. And yet is there any other way than to do as I have done, if I would avoid Solmes? But what a giddy creature shall I be thought, if I pursue the course to which this letter must lead me?
My dearest friend, tell me, have I done wrong?—Yet do not say I have, if you think it; for should all the world besides condemn me, I shall have some comfort, if you do not. The first time I ever besought you to flatter me. That, of itself, is an indication that I have done wrong, and am afraid of hearing the truth—O tell me (but yet do not tell me) if I have done wrong!
What's the answer here? To tell or not to tell? I'm thinking about how much of Anna's other responses are dictated to her by Clarissa and their relationship.
Clarissa’s frantic letter to Anna here speaks volumes about her indecisiveness on a couple of different accounts. First, Clarissa is seemingly sure she has done wrong by delivering this letter to Lovelace, but she only comes to this realization after the letter has actually been taken. Prior to this letter, we’ve seen Clarissa going back and forth between her decision to retrieve or leave the letter before Lovelace came to claim it, and because she lingers too long in her decision-making, Lovelace beats her to it. There is something about the letter actually being in the hands of her recipient here that makes Clarissa condemn her own judgment. In a way, her shock here implies that she thought Lovelace might never come to retrieve the letter, and once he does, she panics. Part of this panic, though, I think is because Clarissa knows he now has possession of the letter, and thus she knows he now has possession of her. The letter symbolizes Clarissa finally putting herself at the mercy of Lovelace, and this (for obvious reasons) frightens her. Clarissa’s indecisiveness, then, emerges in this letter to Miss Howe because she seemingly needs affirmation from someone about her decision. As many of her letters to Anna indicate, and as Steve’s question notes here, Clarissa seems uncertain as to whether or not she actually wants a genuine response from her friend. In this case, though, I am not certain Clarissa actually cares what response she gets from Anna. The reason I make this claim is based solely on the fact that Clarissa makes her own decision to leave her house “on Monday next” before she ever receives a response from Miss Howe; she states in her letter sent on April 8th: “Whether you will blame me or not, I cannot tell, but I have deposited a letter confirming my resolution to leave this house on Monday next, within the hour mentioned in my former if possible.” If she wanted a genuine answer from Miss Howe, would she have taken action on this plan with Lovelace before receiving a response? She mentions in subsequent letters to Anna (before she receives Anna’s response) that she wishes for her advice, but what does it say about her own desires and her relationship with Anna that she does not wait for Anna’s response before making a decision of such magnitude? Or does she actually want a genuine answer from Anna, but is overtaken by her desperation?
I hadn't read Keri's post (and it's a fine one, as usual) until posting my own comments about Clarissa's "indecisiveness" (I'd used the word "confusion"–but I think both terms might be helpful in distinguishing Clarissa's state of mind within different contexts).It also seems to me that Clarissa's regret here is grounded in her ongoing turn from "negative" to "positive" action. The long story of her difficulties leading up to this more intense and focused correspondence with Lovelace has been her DENIALS–her negating and promise to continue negating her family's plans for her. Her forcefulness in such denial is admirable, but not demanding of more active choice. Faced now with the need for "positive" action–real commitment to ACT within a new and unfamiliar situation–she hesitates, regrets, questions. I think it's a deepening of both the novel's plot and her character. Should be fun to watch.
I find it fascinating that Clarissa's feelings in this letter are easily translatable to youth today. We are reminded of just how young Clarissa is, not that indecisiveness is necessarily connected to youth, but that she is rash in her response and immediately dreads what she has done. Like a stereotypical adolescent, she is experiencing emotions and doubts that she never had before. Her family had always treated her favorably until she becomes an object of marriage and economy. Anna is the voice of reason for Clarissa and she needs clarification that she has done the right thing by sending a response to Lovelace. I think this letter also highlights the foreshadowing with regard to Clarissa's fate. The thing about epistolary novels is that the reader's perspective and limited but in this particular novel the reader can see the things that Clarissa is doing serve only to hasten the inevitable — her upcoming abduction and death (the girl is constantly talking about dying before this and that).
This thread of indecisiveness appears throughout the novel, both for Clarissa (as in this letter) and Lovelace (elsewhere). I see this particular moment as indicative of the inner conflicts that Clarissa is undergoing, trapped as she is between these debates: To tell or not to tell (all)? To do wrong or right? To fear or to love? To obey or rebel? To pursue happiness or to give in to money? To prize independence or to value familial connections?At various points throughout the novel, Clarissa vacillates along each of these spectrums.And while this may be part of Clarissa’s adolescence, indicating she is not as wise or mature as people may have originally thought her to be—it also speaks to her humanity. Clarissa (like the novel itself) seems to be full of competing ideologies and contradictions. Like us, she knows what she wants and when she wants it—and then, when things do not seem to be aligning with her ideal expectations, she doesn’t want ‘that’ anymore.And this is reflected in the letters themselves, too—yes, we’re limited on what we can see, through whose perspective, but we also get to trace (in quite a bit of detail) the multiplicity of voices that Clarissa is hearing in her head, only some of which are hers and many of which, as Stephen indicated, belong to Anna.
Looks like many of the comments on the thread have to do with Clarissa feeling guilty for arranging to leave with Lovelace. I think it’s of note that in a chapter wrestling with right and wrong, Clarissa is found guilty of something at the end of the letter. The saucy creature took a napkin, and dipped it in water, and with a fleering air: Here, miss; holding the wet corner to me. What’s that for, said I?Only, miss, one of the fingers of your right hand, if you please to look at it. It was inky. (85). This is after her ink and paper have been taken away, but she is still caught with inky hands. I don’t know that it causes extra guilt to be placed on Clarissa (does she really care that she’s not supposed to be writing?), but it could show that she should be feeling guilty about something.
Great points – her inner conflicts as binaries. They present several decision-points…moments when few options seem available to her, so I can see how she would interpret/understand them as binaries. I wonder how fine a line there is between how Clarissa sees her options and the actual, material options available to her (marry Solmes or we'll disown you; marry Lovelace and we'll disown you; the single life is not an option; etc.)