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Texas Studies in Literature and Language
all readers of The Rape of the Lock will remember clarissa, the
grave pundit of Hampton Court, whose elegant little lecture on good
humor1 touches off a mighty war of clapping fans and cracking whale-
bones. Apart from the delicious situational irony of that speech, we re-
member her chiefly because she is the poem's only character with a brain.
The other inhabitants of her toyshop society we merely laugh at. Clarissa,
though, we feel compelled to listen to. She alone possesses the sense to
discern that "frail Beauty must decay" (V.25), and that coquetry is ulti-
mately self-defeating; she alone understands the irresistible allure of
good humor, the enduring attraction of merit.
But she stands apart in other ways as well. Her unexpectedly solemn,
thoughtful manner, her serene self-assurance, her sensible priorities, her
hybrid awareness of the male and female points of view - all these make
her resemble a grown-up among children, a Houyhnhnm in Lilliput.
Even her very name, Clarissa, with its echo of claríssima, hints at her pre-
eminent illustriousness and clarity of vision. Perhaps the most impressive
credential she carries, however, is the editorial note to V.7, written by
either Pope or Warburton, pointedly identifying her as "A new Charac-
ter introduced in the subsequent Editions, to open more clearly the
Moral of the poem, in a parody of the speech of Sarpedon to Glaucus
in Homer."2
1 The Rape of the Lock, V.9-34. I am following the edition of Geoffrey Til-
lotson, ed., The Rape of the Lock and Other Poems, by Alexander Pope, Twick-
enham Edition, II, 3d ed., rev. (London and New Haven, 1962). Line references
will be given parenthetically in the text.
2Tillotson, p. 199, explains that the 1736 edition carried only the last eleven
words of this note. The note as it now reads appeared first in the 1751 edition,
supervised by Warburton as a result of Pope's death in 1744. As Tillotson ob-
serves, the note contains a small inaccuracy: Clarissa was actually present even
in the first, abbreviated version of the poem, but had no speaking part then.
Texas Studies in Literature and Language
XV.4 (Winter 1974)
I shall have more to say about this momentarily. For the present it is
sufficient to remark that nothing in the poem prepares us for a female
"wisdom figure." Quite the contrary, it prepares us only to see women as
vain creatures "wondrous fond of Place" (III. 36).
Finally, one must reckon with the often-forgotten, disconcerting fact
that Clarissa is an accessory to the rape. It is she, after all, who provides
the Baron with the scissors. At the very least, then, her motives are
3 Rebecca Price Parkin, The Poetic Workmanship of Alexander Pope (Minne-
apolis, 1955), pp. 127 and 171.
4 Cleanth Brooks, "The Case of Miss Arabella Fermor, ' The Sewanee Review,
51 (1943), rpt. in The Well Wrought Urn (New York, 1947), p. 83; Stanley
Edgar Hyman, "The Rape of the Lock" Hudson Review, 13 (I960), 411; Aubrey
Williams, "The Tall' of China and The Rape of the Lock" PQ, 41 (1962), 421;
and Murray Krieger, "The Trail China Jar' and the Rude Hand of Chaos," Cen-
tennial Review of Arts and Sciences, 5 (1961), 185.
5 Tillotson, p. 119.
doubtful; and if her motives are doubtful, so too might be her reliability
as a moralist.
We arrive, thus, at a critical crossroads. Our two options appear to be
these: either we cling to the traditional view of Clarissa, willingly closing
our eyes to the problems just noted, or else we try scaling down our ex-
pectations of her reliability, our hope being to perceive aspects of her
characterization that make her more consistent with the poem as a whole
and with herself. This essay will attempt to demonstrate the f ruitfulness
of the latter course.
Two recent critics of The Rape, J. S. Cunningham and G. S. Rousseau,
will serve us well as initial wayshowers, not so much for the arguments
they make as for the uncertainties they voice. Neither takes a firm critical
position on Clarissa - being slightly baffled by her, they offer only critical
probes and gropings - but essentially they stand midway between the
army of loyalists and Mrs. Parkin. That is, they accept Clarissa's choric
status in the poem, but they hear, or think they hear, ironic nuances in
her characterization that make her interestingly problematic. Cunning-
ham, for example, concludes his brief remarks with this observation:
"Clarissa's speech undoubtedly carries the 'moral' of the poem, touching
some of its deepest chords, while at the same time exhibiting the radical
limitations of even this degree of maturity in the society in which it is so
firmly set. She is in earnest, but well this side of asceticism."6 Beyond
this point, he does not go. Rousseau, meanwhile, maintains that Clarissa's
preeminent quality is her elusiveness. Pope, he says, leaves us guessing as
to the extent of his agreement with her ("an insoluble question") and
also as to the exact nature of her motives. Rousseau feels prepared to
draw only three conclusions about her characterization. First, much of
the responsibility for the reader's bafflement must be attributed to Pope
himself, who has "not given us any clue to Clarissa's character." Second,
"if she is not the final word, her contribution is no less important for its
not being absolute and final." And last, the poem, ultimately concerned
with defining " 'the true character of a lady,' " implies that, really, "the
perfect woman is a hybrid of Belinda and Clarissa."7
While Cunningham and Rousseau are finally pointing us in the right
direction, I think the poem allows us to make much more sense of Claris-
sa (and Pope's view of her social criticism) than either one of them sup-
poses. I contend that clues to her character are supplied, and that these
One of the chief features of The Rape is its social stereotyping of the
individual characters, a mode Pope first learned from the periodical es-
sayists and one that he was to employ with increasing skill throughout his
poetic career. He had evidently intuited a principle that Henri Bergson
was later to fashion into his major theory of comedy. In Bergson's words:
It is comic to fall into a ready-made category. And what is most comic of all
is to become a category oneself into which others will fall, as into a ready-
made frame; it is to crystallize into a stock character. Thus, to depict charac-
ters, that is to say, general types, is the object of high-class comedy.8
9 Lest we ignore the implications of this fate, let us recall the Umbriel is just
such a former prude turned gnome. As a consequence he traffics with Spleen, the
antithesis of the good humor that Clarissa celebrates with such incongruous - but,
from a more knowing viewpoint, apt - solemnity.
10 Dorothy Van Ghent, The English Novel: Form and Function (New York,
1953), pp. 11, 12, and 13 respectively.
Thalestris' speech comically reminds us that there are equally lively wars
going on between members of the same sex. The exclusively female
contest of principal concern here is that between Belinda and Clarissa,
the one a coquette who thrives on conquest and carefully controlled flir-
tations, the other, for all her sanity, at heart a prude who thrives on
piety and moral imperialism. In actuality, the two are not so very differ-
ent. Being women, both are "wondrous fond of Place" (III.36). If
Ariel has successfully urged Belinda to "Hear and believe! thy own Im-
portance know" (1.35), Umbriel has doubtless at some time whispered
similar advice in Clarissa's ear. Belinda's strong suit is her physical at-
tractiveness, whereas Clarissa's is her unimpeachable respectability. The
one seeks ascendancy through beauty and the indiscriminate bestowal of
her charm; the other seeks it through her reputation for rectitude and
the formidable gravity of her manner. Both perform the Rites of Pride,
but each in her own way. One can see how, viewed generically as social
types, they are natural enemies. While the coquette is tantalizing each
passing spark, the imperious prude is at her elbow solemnly insinuating
to her and the world that she is nothing but an empty-headed flirt a few
years away from spinsterhood. Likewise, while the prude is grandly
lecturing on the indispensability of Sense and Merit, across the room the
coquette sits blithely amid a cloud of beaux, for awhile yet, at least, "The
wise Man's Passion, and the vain Man's Toast" (V.10).
Is it this jealousy, this natural rivalry between prude and coquette,
that prompts Clarissa to take "arms" against Belinda midway through
the third Canto? Pope, with his studied ambiguity, teasingly withholds
an outright explanation, but he doesn't really need to give one. If we
read closely, Clarissa's act speaks for itself, proclaiming female jealousy
disguised as practical joking:
But when to Mischief Mortals bend their Will,
How soon they find fit Instruments of 111 Î
Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting Grace
A two-edged Weapon from her shining Case;
So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight,
Present the Spear, and arm him for the Fight.
(III.125-13O)
Now those critics who view Clarissa as a paragon have a rather obvious
problem with this passage. That problem is how to reconcile her covert
complicity with the Baron with her later seemingly high-minded sermon
a half later, with victory there for the taking, she suddenly reappears.
Belinda has just lost her lock, and, being a well-bred young lady, is
properly engrossed in playing the role of indignant virgin that society
expects of her, mourning loudly her betrayed Honor, cursing her unlucky
fate, uttering fears that the rude rape may now invite yet another -
clearly a virtuoso performance by a seasoned actress. The "pitying Audi-
ence" (V.I) about her, meanwhile, is dissolved in sympathetic tears.
With the world temporarily standing still and a vacuum waiting to be
filled, enter grave Clarissa, the very picture of calm self-possession:
While this may lack the splendor of Belinda's nautical arrival in Canto
II, connoisseurs of grand moments will appreciate the perfection of tim-
ing and gesture that Clarissa demonstrates here. Belinda is her only
significant rival. Belinda can smile and make the whole world gay, or
show chagrin and give half the world the spleen. But Pope implies that
Clarissa, though operating on a less sublime scale, is equally effective
within her sphere. With her grave mien and a mere imperative flick of
her fan - the spoken word being as unnecessary to this imposing woman
as to Belinda - she can dry up tears and command immediate silence.
And, as we learn before she has made her final exit, when given an oc-
casion appropriate to the full use of her declamatory accomplishments,
she can even eclipse the nymph whose eyes eclipse the day.
Here, then, is Clarissa's famous speech, the thematic center of the
poem:
moderate seriousness; and the poem itself appeals to both qualities in the
reader if its ironies and fun are to be properly enjoyed.
All this granted, Pope yet makes it possible for one simultaneously to
view Clarissa's sentiments as tinged with expediency. Power and the ef-
fective "use" of virtue are her principal concerns, not virtue for its own
sake. "Gains," "Pow'r," "lose," and "wins" (V.16, 29, 30, 34) reflect
the orientation of her value system. (Her very speech, it might be noted,
illustrates an effective "use" of virtue: by it she wins, Belinda loses.)
The attributes she espouses - "good Sense," "good Humour," "Virtue,"
"Merit" - seem, as a consequence, deflated to means, and virtue seems
to pass into social prudence. Furthermore, she appears as much a captive
of her society's values as a critic of them. Her use of the word "Glories"
(V.I 5) to describe rituals of adoration betrays the woman concealed be-
hind the philosopher. As Cunningham rightly perceives, "She evidently
prizes the 'Glories' (a telling overstatement) of the theatre box and the
coach besieged by flattering dandies."11 It would seem that her own good
sense has been subtly corrupted by the prideful cravings "that early taint
the Female Soul" (1.87).
If the sentiments themselves are teasingly ambiguous, so too are
Clarissa's motives in this speech. The first twenty-two of her twenty-six
lines serve to create an impression of high-minded objectivity. Belinda
might as well be on the moon for all the direct notice Clarissa takes of
her. It is a subject that she is apparently addressing herself to, not a
person; this is a moral for all Beauties, not one in particular. In the last
four lines, however, she suddenly turns to Belinda and drives the moral
home: "And trust me, Dear! good humour can prevail, etc." This is a
masterstroke on Pope's part, for with these two closing couplets he in
effect backwashes the entire speech with ambiguity of motive consonant
with Qarissa's first appearance in the poem. Is she really the disinter-
ested, trustworthy counselor she sets up to be, or is she actually an arch
rival slyly seeking, through false piety and feigned helpfulness, to en-
hance her own reputation while ruining Belinda's?
Most critics, impressed by the sensibleness of Clarissa's preceding lines,
have closed their ears to the lethal nuances of these final lines. An alter-
native interpretation would begin with the fact that Clarissa is repre-
sented as a clever woman. She understands psychology, rhetoric, and
imposture. She values winning and means to win here at Belinda's ex-
pense. All of this - artfully foreshadowed by Pope in the earlier con-
spiracy scene with the Baron - is shown in the first twenty-two magis-
terial lines of her speech (V.9-30). Her object is to put Belinda off
11 Cunningham, p. 44.
She might well end here, of course. It is a fitting, tactful conclusion; her
moral has been made. But total victory, not friendly counseling, is her
true object. Indeed, ego insists on overkill. Clarissa cannot pass up this
last, choice moment to patronize Belinda directly, showing the belle to
be ludicrous as well as girlishly unthinking. Thus, she pointedly turns
toward her, saying, with unctuous familiarity: "And trust me, Dear! good
Humour can prevail, / When Airs, and Flights, and Screams, and Scold-
ing fail/' The exclamation point following the word "Dear" (i.e.,
"dearie") would be quite unnecessary were her sweetness sincere, as also
with "alas!" in line 25 above.12 But Clarissa has never been more de-
liciously superior - or, for that matter, more rhetorically effective.
However, she is not finished. Having shown Belinda to be ludicrously
impotent in anger, she concludes by showing her coquetry to be equally
futile, and for that reason a pretty absurdity: "Beauties in vain their
pretty Eyes may roll; / Charms strike the Sight, but Merit wins the Soul."
As before, this is unimpeachable truth, but it is also hugely triumphant
and tactless. One can imagine the weak adjective "pretty" being spoken
with fine derisiveness, just as one can imagine "Merit" being spoken
with special point and puffed bosom. Clarissa's case is a good one, but her
own merit, good humor, and good sense are dubious. Ironically, she
voices the very standards by which she herself may be convicted.
The ambiguities of sentiment and motive in Clarissa's speech are de-
lightfully compounded by its parodie relationship to Sarpedon's speech
in the Iliad (Book XII), translated by Pope some years earlier. Before
discussing these further ambiguities, however, I should like to briefly
explain, as best I can reconstruct it, how Pope came to parody Sarpedon's
speech in the first place and what ends he meant to achieve in doing so.
As many readers know, Clarissa's speech was the last of several major
additions to The Rape. It followed the others, in fact, by a full three
years. What explains the very tardy afterthought? The case of Boileau
is probably illuminating here inasmuch as Pope, in this final addition,
was still paralleling the course charted decades earlier by the Frenchman
12 Clarissa's sensitivity to the specter of aging in line 25 suggests that she may
have already experienced some of its effects herself. The exclamation point implies
a mock sigh of feigned commiseration, although on another level Pope may be
voicing his genuine sigh of regret at the thought of beauty's poignant transience.
13 The explicitness of the note may be ironic too, of course, inasmuch as Claris-
sa confuses almost as much as she clarifies. The same may apply to her name also.
14 Maynard Mack touches sensitively on this point in " 'Wit and Poetry and
Pope': Some Observations on His Imagery," in Pope and His Contemporaries:
Essays Presented to George Sherburn, ed. James L. Clifford and Louis Landa
(New York, 1949), p. 37.
How can we take honest pride in our many advantages - wealth, adulation,
authority - unless we have proved by our actions that we truly merit them?
We have an obligation to match the dignity which our troops accord us with
dignity which we ourselves have earned through valorous deeds. We must be
as superior in valor, Glaucus, as we are in rank. Were death avoidable, I con-
fess I would not now pursue Fame on the battlefield. But death is inevitable.
And since death itself confers no honor, I shall dedicate my life to the pursuit
of Fame, winning glory for myself if I am victorious in battle, and giving
glory to others if I bravely fall.
10 It is perhaps fitting that this pairing is eventually made explicit in the poem.
During the fracas following Clarissa's speech, we learn that "bold Sir Plume had
drawn Clarissa down," a line that smilingly undercuts her projected image of
moral elevation.
Clarissa is a prude, then, but a most complex one. like the poem it-
self - "Tis a sort of writing very like tickling,"16 he once remarked -
her characterization is calculated to evoke in the reader a decidedly mixed
response. If we deplore her hypocrisy and hauteur, we yet feel genuine
(though qualified) admiration for her sentiments. If we deplore her
tactlessness in voicing those sentiments when she does, we yet feel that
someone, somehow, had to interject a little good sense into the broil at
that juncture. If we deplore her underhanded part in the rape of Be-
linda's lock, we also recognize that Belinda's vanity invited - perhaps de-
manded - the deflating it got. In Clarissa, sublimity and meanness, right-
eousness and self -righteousness, clash head on. It is cases such as hers
that result in hung juries.