Remarks on Clarissa (1749) — Context and Discussion

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Fielding, Sarah, 1710-1768 Project Gutenberg 2009 Not confirmed
Richardson, Samuel, 1689-1761. Clarissa; Epistolary fiction, English -- History and criticism; Rape victims in literature Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Sarah Fielding's 1749 critical dialogue defends Richardson's Clarissa against contemporary objections, analyzing its epistolary structure, character development, and moral design through conversational debates and a key letter from Bellario.
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She was an undutiful Daughter--too strict in her Principles of Obedience to such Parents--too fond of a Rake and a Libertine--her Heart was as impenitrable and unsusceptible of Affection, as the hardest Marble. In short, the many contradictory Faults that she was at once accused of, is almost incredible: So many, that those who had attended enough to her Character, to have an Inclination to justify her, found it difficult to know where to begin to answer such a complicated Charge. But after a short Silence, Miss _Gibson_ with her usual Penetration, said;

"Whenever any Person is accused of a Variety of Faults, which are plainly impossible to dwell in the same Mind, I am immediately convinced the Person so accused is innocent of them all. A Prude cannot, by an observing Eye, be taken for a Coquet, nor a Coquet for a Prude, but a good Woman may be called either, or both, according to the Dispositions of her resolved Censurers; and hence I believe we may trace the Cause, why the Characters even of those Persons who do not endeavour to wear any Disguise are so very liable to be mistaken; for Partiality or Prejudice generally sit as Judges: If the former mount the Judgment-seat, how many different Terms do we make use of to express that Goodness in another, which our own fluctuating Imaginations only have erected? If the latter, how do we vary Expressions to paint that Wickedness which we are resolve to prove inhabits the Mind we think proper to condemn?" "Nay, but (said Mr. _Dellincourt_) how are we concerned either to justify or accuse _Clarissa_? we cannot be either partial to, or prejudised against her." "I know not how it is, (replyed Miss _Gibson_) but those who dread Censure, tho' Circumspection wait on every Step, will be censured, till there no longer remains in the World any of those Dispositions that delight in inflicting that Punishment on others they see they most fear. Now, tho' _Clarissa_ was not so blameably fearful of Censure, but that her first Care was to preserve the Innocence of her own Mind, and do no wrong; yet it is plain, she would very gladly have avoided incurring, as well as deserving, Reproach; and that she is treated like an intimate Acquaintance by all her Readers, the Author may thank himself for. I dare say, the Authors of _Cassandra_, _Clelia_, with numberless others I could name, were never in any Danger of having their Heroines thought on, or treated like human Creatures."

_Bellario_, who had hitherto been silent, said, "He thought _Clarissa_ could not justly be accused of any material Fault, but that of wanting Affection for her Lover; for that he was sure, a Woman whose Mind was incapable of Love, could not be amiable, nor have any of those gentle Qualities which chiefly adorn the female Character. And as to her whining after her Papa and Mamma, who had used her so cruelly, (added he) I think 'tis contemptible in her."

"But, Sir, (said Miss _Gibson_) please only to consider, first, _Clarissa_ is accused of want of Love, and then in a Moment she is condemned for not being able suddenly to tear from her Bosom an Affection that had been daily growing and improving from the Time of her Birth, and this built on the greatest paternal Indulgence imaginable. Affections that have taken such deep Root, are little Treasures hoarded up in the good Mind, and cannot be torn thence without causing the strongest convulsive Pangs in the Heart, where they have been long nourished: And when they are so very easily given up as you now, Sir, seem to contend for, I confess I am very apt to suspect they have only been talked of by the Persons who can part with them with so little Pain, either from Hypocrisy, or from another very obvious Cause, namely, the using Words we are accustomed to hear, without so much as thinking of their Meaning. Such Hearts I think may be much more properly compared to the Hardness of Marble, than could that of the gentle _Clarissa_.

"There is in her Behaviour, I own, a good deal of apparent Indifference to _Lovelace_; but let her Situation and his manner of treating her be considered, and I fancy the whole will be seen in a different Light from what it may appear on the first View. She has confessed to Miss _Howe_, that she could prefer him to all the Men she ever saw; and that Friend of her Heart, to whom her very inmost Thoughts were laid open all along, pronounces her to be in Love with him. It is not from Hypocrisy that she does not confess the Charge, but from the Reason Miss _Howe_ gives, when she says;

_I believe you did not intend Reserve to me, for two Reasons, I believe you did not; first, because you say you did not: Next, because you have not as yet been able to convince yourself how it is to be with you; and, persecuted as you are, how so to separate the Effects that spring from the two Causes (Persecution and Love) as to give to each its particular Due._

"That _Clarissa_ positively did not intend to go off with _Lovelace_ when she met him, to me is very plain; nor could he have prevailed on her, had not the Terrors raised in her Mind, by apprehended Murder, almost robbed her of her Senses, and hurried her away, not knowing what she did. For the Truth of this, I appeal to that charming painted Scene, where the Reader's Mind shares _Clarissa's_ Terror, and is kept in one continued Tumult til.

[A]_The Steeds are smote, the rapid Chariot flies, The sudden Clouds of circuling Dust arise._

"She was vexed to her soul afterwards to find she was tricked, as she calls it, out of herself, when _Lovelace_, instead of comforting and assuring her Mind, begins such a Train of shufling artful Tricks, as no one but _Lovelace_ could have thought on: And altho' she did not know all his Design, for if she had, she would certainly have left him, yet she sees enough of his _crooked ways_, to be convinced that he acted ungenerously by her, because she was in _his Power_. Does not _Lovelace_, in a Letter to _Belford_, writ in four Days after she was with him, say?

_And do I not see, that I shall want nothing but Patience, in order to have all Power with me? For what shall we say, if all these Complaints of a Character Wounded, these Declarations of increasing Regrets of meeting me, of Resentments never to be got over for my seducing her away, these angry Commands to leave her,--what shall we say, if all were to mean nothing but Matrimony?--And what if my forbearing to enter upon that Subject comes out to be the true Cause of her Petulance and Uneasiness._

"And then he gives such an Account of his asking her Consent to marry him, and at the same Time artfully confusing her, so as to prevent her Consent, as perfectly paints his cunning vile Heart. How is her Behaviour altered to him from the Time she can write Miss _Howe_ word that her Prospects are mended, till his returning Shufling convinces her there is no Confidence to be placed in him! But if, Sir, you cannot think _Lovelace's_ Usage of _Clarissa_ a full Justification of her in this Point, I think the Author has a just Right to be heard out before his Heroine is condemned in so heavy a Charge, as that of being void of all Affection. You know enough of my Sentiments, Sir, to be convinced that I do think this the heaviest Charge a Woman can be accused of; for Love is the only Passion I should wish to be harboured in the gentle Bosom of a good Woman. Ambition, with all the Train of turbulent Passions the World is infested with, I would leave to Men: And could I make my whole Sex of my Opinion, they would be resigned without the least Grudge or Envy; for Peace and Harmony dwell not with them, but on the contrary, Discord, Perturbation and Misery are their constant Companions. But tho' I speak thus with the utmost Sincerity of Love; yet I cannot think a Woman greatly the Object of Esteem who, like _Serina_ in the _Orphan_, having such a Father as _Acasto_, and such Brothers, affectionate to her, however blameable in other Respects; while she saw her whole Family distressed and confused, and _Monimia_, the gentle Companion of her Infancy, involved in that Confusion, her Lover too behaving like a Mad-man, yet still, could cry out,

Chamont's _the dearest thing I have on Earth; Give me_ Chamont, _and let the World forsake me._

"_Clarissa_ would have acted a different Part, I do confess; and yet, if I can guess any Thing of the Author's Intention by what is already published, I fancy, when we have read the Conclusion of this Story, we shall be convinced that Love was the strongest Characteristic of _Clarissa's_ Mind."

_Bellario_ answered, with that Candor, which is known to be one of the most distinguishing Marks of his Character by all who have the Pleasure of his Acquaintance, 'That if it proved so, he should have the greatest Esteem and highest Veneration for _Clarissa_, and would suspend his Judgment till he saw the remaining Part of the Story.'

But all the Company were not so candid, for Mr. _Dellincourt_ said, 'He was sure _Clarissa_ could not in the remaining Part of the Story convince him, that her Characteristic was Love; for nothing less than the lovely _Emma's_ Passion for _Henry_ would be any Satisfaction to him, if he was a Lover.'--Miss _Gibson_ said. 'She had often been sorry that the Poem of _Henry_ and _Emma_ had not been long ago buried in Oblivion; for (continued she) it is one of those Things which, by the Dress and Ornaments of fine Language and smooth Poetry, has imposed on Mankind so strong a Fallacy, as to make a Character in itself most despicable, nay I may say most blameable, generally thought worthy Admiration and Praise: For strip it of the dazzling Beauties of Poetry, and thus fairly may the Story be told.

An old _English_ Baron retired in his Decline of Life to his Country-seat, where one only Daughter (left him by a Wife he fondly loved) was the Care, the Joy, the Comfort of his declining Years: No sooner had the State of blooming Youth taken place of that of prattling Infancy, than she became the Object of publick Admiration, and Lovers of all Degrees with Emulation strove to gain the fair _Emma's_ Favour; but as yet her Heart was free, and her Father's paternal tender Indulgence never once endeavoured to force her Choice. At last the happy _Henry_ in various Disguises found the means to obtain her Favour, and she becomes passionately in Love with him: But not content with this, he resolves on a Trial of her Constancy, and therefore tells her, that he is a Murderer, must fly from Justice, and herd amongst the lowest and basest of Mankind; that he despised her, and the fond Heart she had given him; a younger and fairer Nymph now engaging his Pursuit, and that if she would follow him, she also must herd with Outlaws his Companions, who like himself were fled from Justice; where Impiety, Blasphemy and Obscenity would be all the Language she could hear.

_Emma_ on this Trial, ignorant who _Henry_ was, or what Brothel had last given him up, without one Enquiry whether the Murder he confessed was not of the blackest Die, remorseless for all the Agonies with which she must tear her Father's tender Bosom, resolves at all Events, as _Henry_ himself says,

_Name, Habit, Parents, Woman, left behind_.

to follow him through the World; not admitted to share his Fate, but to be scorned and insulted by him. Thus _victoriously_ she stood her Trial. _Henry_ turns out a great Man; consequently his Wife is greatly admired; Success crowns all, and both Grandeur and Love join to reward her supposed heroic Virtue.

But had the Poet thought proper, that _Henry_ should have turned out the Murderer, the Vagabond, the insolent and ungrateful Scorner of her Love he represented himself to be; had her Father's Sorrow for her Fate shortned his miserable Days; had she been abandoned by the Wretch she had so much Reason to expect the worst of Treatment from, and, between Rage, Despair, and a thousand conflicting Passions, been led by a natural Gradation from one Vice to another, till she had been lost in the most abandoned Profligacy; instead of being proposed for an Example, her Name would have been only mentioned to deter others from the like rash Steps. That this was the natural Consequence of her Actions is very apparent: Nor do I think from her Behaviour, that _Henry_ had the least Reason to be convinced that she would not leave him for the first Man who would try to seduce her, provided the Colour of his Complexion suited her Fancy.

All the Company were very inclineable to yield up _Emma's_ Cause, if _Henry had_ indeed been a Villain and a Murderer; only great Part of them were very apt to forget one Circumstance, namely, that it was impossible for her to know, but that he was the Wretch he represented himself to be; and Miss _Gibson_ seemed to be much more inclined to compassionate her, if extreme Misery had been her Fate, than was the Gentleman who first mentioned her as an Object of Admiration, only because the Author of the Poem thought fit to reward her. Miss _Gibson_ then addressing herself to _Bellario_, said, 'Sir, you are a Father,--an indulgent Father,--would you have your Daughter act in such a Manner?--_Bellario_ honestly owned he would not. 'Why then, Sir, (replyed she) please to consider a Moment, and you will see the Injustice of wishing another Man's Daughter should act so.' _Bellario_ ingenuously confessed, that when he read the Poem of _Henry_ and _Emma_, the Picture of his Mistress, and not that of his Daughter, was before his Eyes, and he would have his Mistress _of all Mankind love but him alone_.----'I wonder not at that, Sir, (said Miss _Gibson_) but then you would not be the Man _Henry_ represented himself to be. Had _Henry_ had any Misfortunes by which his Heart had not been stained.

[B]_Had it pleased Heav'n To try_ him _with Affliction, had he rain'd_ _All kind of Sores and Shames on_ his _bare Head, Steep'd_ him _in Poverty to the very Lips, Given to Captivity_ him _and_ his _utmost Hopes,_

no one would more have applauded _Emma's_ Resolution, _of loving of all Mankind but him alone_, than I should have done: But yet when I see a Woman seriously endeavour to conquer a Passion for a Man who proves himself unworthy her Love, it will always be to me a strong Proof of her steady Constancy to a Man she has Reason to esteem. I would have had _Emma_ stood _Henry's_ shocking Tryal as _Macduff_ in the Tragedy of _Macbeth_ does that of _Malcolm_, and when he had proved himself unworthy her least Affection; I think, in the Words of _Macduff_ she might have said,

_----Fare thee well, These Evils thou repeat'st upon thyself, Have banish'd me from_ JOY.----_Oh! my Breast, Thy Hope ends here._

On such a Behaviour, I think the Reward she met with should have been founded, and such I believe would have been the Behaviour of _Clarissa_ in the like Circumstances.

'The Love that is not judicious, must be as uncertain as its capricious Foundation: But 'tis one of the distinguishing Marks of _Clarissa's_ Character, to watch her own Mind, that Prejudice may not get Possession of it, nor her Imagination run away with her Judgment. With what a noble Contempt does she treat the extravagant Offers _Solmes_ makes her, at the Expence of Justice, and cruelly leaving his Family to starve? But how very few People, like _Clarissa_, can poise the Scales with an even Hand, where one Grain of Self is placed in either Scale?'

The Gentleman, who had at first started the Objection to _Clarissa_ of her being incapable of any strong Affection, now said, 'that he could not see any Proof of her Impartiality, in that she could view the Actions of _Solmes_ in the proper Light: He did not know whether she would have argued in the same manner With regard to _Lovelace_'. Miss _Gibson_ said, 'Do you speak this, Sir, as a Proof of the Justice of your first Objection to _Clarissa_, that her Heart was as impenetrable as Marble; is it reasonable she should be condemned both ways?' The Gentleman look'd very grave for a Moment, and then said, he was sure she had no Affections in her, notwithstand what he had now said.

Mr. _Johnson_ on this, told the following Story.

"I remember (said he) I went some time ago with Mr. _Tonson_ to a celebrated Painter's, to see a Picture he had drawn of a Gentleman we were both intimately acquainted with; the Resemblance was very strong; we were much pleased with the Picture, even to the very Drapery; the Coat was a fine Crimson Cloth, but Mr. _Tonson_, at first View, took it for Velvet; he was soon convinced of his Mistake, but yet could never since mention the Picture, without talking of the Velvet Coat; and when I have bid him remember it was Cloth, he has always acknowledged it, and said, it's very true Sir; And yet such a strong Impression had his first Idea of it made in his Mind, that in two Minutes he could talk again of the Velvet Coat, with as much Ease as if he had been perfectly ignorant of his Mistake."

A strong Objection was raised to Mr. _Lovelace's_ being so long without any Attempt on the Lady's Honour, when she was under the same Roof with him, and so much in his Power. Mr. _Johnson_ said he thought Mr. _Belford_ had given a good Reason for this Delay in a Letter to _Lovelace_, where he says,

_Thou too a Man born for Intrigue, full of Invention, intrepid, remorseless, able patiently to watch for the Opportunity, not flurried, as most Men, by Gusts of violent Passion, which often nip a Project in the Bud, and make the Snail, which was just putting out its Horns to meet the Inviter, withdraw into its Shell._

So that it seems to be a Maxim, amongst _Lovelace_ and his Club of Rakes, not to destroy their own Schemes by a too precipitate Pursuit; and _Lovelace_ gives yet a stronger Reason for it in the following Words.

_O Virtue, Virtue_, says he, _what is there in thee, that can thus affect the Heart of such a Man as me against my Will!--Whence these involuntary Tremors, and fear of giving mortal Offence! What art thou that, acting in the Breast of a feeble Woman, canst strike so much awe into a Spirit so intrepid which never before, no, not in my first Attempt, young as I then was, and frighted at my own Boldness (till I found myself_ forgiven,) _had such an Effect on me._

But Quotations from _Lovelace's_ Words to this Purpose, and that he was resolved to be slow in order to be sure, would be endless.

This, I think, was the last Objection raised; only _Bellario_ said, that the Report that the Catastrophy was to be unhappy had made a deep Impression on him; for that he could not avoid thinking that, if it was true, it must be a great Error, and destroy all the Pleasure a good-natur'd Reader might already have received: However, he said, he would keep his Word in not absolutely giving his Judgment till he saw the Conclusion.

And thus ended the second Scene of Criticism on _Clarissa_; only, as we went down Stairs, a Lady, who had not spoke one Word the whole Evening, mutter'd out a strong Dislike, that the agreeable Mr. _Lovelace_ should not become a Husband.

And now, in the Month of _December_, appears the long expected, much wished for Conclusion of _Clarissa's_ Story.

Sarah Fielding's Remarks on Clarissa (1749) opens not with a preface but with a scene of conversation: the narrator reports hearing the novel 'unanimously condemned' by a company who dismiss it as 'tedious stuff' and 'low' letters between misses. This framing immediately establishes the work as a record of critical debate, not a solitary treatise. Fielding structures her pamphlet as a series of dialogues, moving from one social gathering to another, each presenting objections and defenses. The excerpts show a progression from superficial complaints about length and character names to deeper analysis of moral design and narrative method. A pivotal moment occurs when a gentleman named Bellario, initially a detractor, undergoes a 'conversion' and writes a letter defending the novel's originality. This epistolary turn mirrors the very form Fielding is defending.

Conversation as Critical Method

Fielding does not argue in a vacuum; she stages objections through named speakers in social settings. The first gathering offers blanket condemnation—'one had no Patience to read it'—which the narrator dismisses as unworthy of attention. The second assembly includes a gentleman who reduces the first two volumes to a trivial family sketch. By placing these reductive views in dialogue, Fielding lets them reveal their own inadequacy. The structure implies that serious criticism requires sustained engagement, not summary dismissal. The conversational frame also allows Fielding to shift between voices without claiming absolute authority, inviting readers to weigh competing perspectives.

Bellario's Conversion and the Defense of Epistolary Form

The most extended critical statement comes from Bellario, who confesses he 'could not seek any Repose till I had thrown together my Thoughts' after being won over. His letter argues that Richardson's method—'a Series of familiar Letters to relate a compleat Story'—is 'so much an Original manner of Writing' that the author may 'make his own Laws.' Bellario compares this to Aristotle deriving rules from Homer, not imposing them. He addresses the complaint of length by suggesting it arises from 'the great Earnestness the Characters inspire' and may vanish on a second reading. This is a precise, text-based defense of the novel's pacing and structure, grounded in reader psychology rather than abstract theory.

The Rosebud Episode and the Moral of Pride

Bellario's letter uses a specific incident—Lovelace's treatment of his 'Rosebud'—to illustrate how a single action can mislead. At first, Lovelace's restraint appears admirable, but later his 'Pride preserved his Rosebud, as well as it destroyed Clarissa.' Fielding draws a parallel to Milton's Satan, who 'could for a Time cloath himself like an Angel of Light.' The moral is that 'Pride has the Art of putting on the Mask of Virtue,' and readers must judge 'upon the whole, not from any one single Action.' This observation ties character interpretation to the novel's cumulative structure, where meaning emerges across the full arc of the narrative.

Clarissa's Triumph and the Necessity of Trial

Earlier in the dialogue, Miss Gibson argues that Clarissa's 'Triumph could never have been so compleat' without her encounter with Lovelace at Mrs. Sinclair's. The impossibility of escape makes her subsequent behavior—her refusal to 'blubber out an humble Petition' to her betrayer—a virtuous contrast to conventional heroines. Fielding here defends the novel's painful central situation as structurally necessary for Clarissa's moral victory. The conversation treats the plot not as sensationalism but as a deliberate test of character, one that allows Clarissa to demonstrate a fortitude that passive suffering could not achieve. This reading emphasizes the active, chosen nature of her virtue.

Fielding's Remarks is best read as a companion that preserves the texture of early reader response—the dismissals, the gradual conversions, the close attention to particular scenes. It does not offer a single thesis but a series of arguments in motion, often more suggestive than systematic. Readers of Clarissa may find here a mirror of their own evolving judgments, and a reminder that the novel's length and detail are not flaws but the very means by which its moral and psychological complexity is achieved.

Rereading Sarah Fielding’s Remarks on Clarissa, I kept thinking how gently she pieces together a character’s hidden motives—the same slow, patient uncovering I felt in The black kiss — Themes and Context. There, too, shadows linger behind polite words, and understanding arrives not in a flash, but like morning light through a curtain.

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  • ...
    Jessica Richardson - 4 weeks ago
    An intriguing piece of literary criticism that sheds light on the reception of 'Clarissa' in its own time. The commentary is detailed and thought-provoking, though it assumes a familiarity with the novel. The writing style is old-fashioned, which may be challenging for casual readers. Still, it's a valuable primary source for understanding the novel's impact and the period's literary debates.

  • ...
    John Evans - 3 weeks ago
    This 1749 commentary on 'Clarissa' offers a profound and insightful analysis of Richardson's masterpiece. The author meticulously dissects the characters' motivations and moral dilemmas, providing a rich historical context that enhances modern understanding. It's a treasure for literary scholars and enthusiasts, bridging the gap between the 18th-century novel and contemporary criticism. A must-read for anyone studying or loving 'Clarissa'.

  • ...
    Jeremiah Adams - 2 weeks ago
    This historical commentary on 'Clarissa' is dry and overly academic, lacking the accessibility of modern criticism. The text is dense and rambling, with long-winded sentences that obscure any clear argument. It feels dated and irrelevant to today's readers, who might find more value in contemporary analyses. Only for those deeply invested in historical critical texts, and even then, it's a chore to read.


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