or gratitude – she shows them in return for their love and care. This “application” of Pamela’s story is therefore too clear; Pamela has so much reason to respect her parents that little about the limits (if any) of filial duty can be learned from her case.
The situation is different in Clarissa, which announces on its title page that it will illustrate “the distresses that may attend the misconduct both of parents and children, in relation to marriage”. Tom KeymerKeymer, Tom has suggested that this novel is designed to depict an exact balance between a situation where the daughter is right to rebel and where the parents may uphold their authority, thus exercising the reader’s judgment (cf. Richardson’s Clarissa 122, 140–1). In this regard, Hester MulsoMulso, Hester, correspondent of Richardson’s debate with Richardson indicates the urgency of showing the point at which the balance tips in favour of the weaker party – the child. Her italics emphasise the importance of the points to be decided, and the directness of her questions – simple syntax and frequent question marks – leaves as little room as possible for her correspondent to manoeuvre in his answers:
What must their children [those of unnatural parents] do, if “the want of duty on one side, justifies not the non-performance of it on the other, where there is a reciprocal duty?” […] (228)
But give me leave […] to ask you, whether the child […], when injured, when cruelly and inhumanly treated, when deprived of its natural rights, and reduced to a state of slavery, is not then at liberty to disobey, or the subject to rebel? […] (229)
But this is one question which I would refer back to you for an answer, viz. who is to be judge in points contestible, of the reasonableness, or unreasonableness of the exertion of the parent’s authority? (229)
[…] The question is then, whether the bare title of father or mother, shall give to such, a right to make their children miserable for life? And if not, what kind or degree of duty is owing to such, and on what grounds? (230)
These pointed questions indicate just how little justification for filial disobedience is granted in Clarissa. Although Richardson’s best characters – and many of his worst ones – are preoccupied with questions of proper conduct, and despite (or because of) his avowed didactic intention, he refuses to clarify exactly when and how a child may refuse to obey an unjust command. In this, he follows texts like the classic The Whole Duty of Man, attributed to Richard AllestreeAllestree, Richard, or Patrick DelanyDelany, Patrick, correspondent of Richardson’s Fifteen Sermons Upon Social Duties. Both these works acknowledge the rights of children only in so far as parents have duties. As a consequence, the right of rebellion can either be denied outright – as in The Whole Duty of Man – or be glossed over, as in Delany’s sermons (see part I). This poses a problem for those serious-minded readers who seek to reconcile duty to personal liberty. Indeed, MulsoMulso, Hester, correspondent of Richardson’s slightly tongue-in-cheek remark – “my head is not clear enough to do it as I ought” (emphasis mine) indicates that she counts herself in this number. The duty of a good reader is to draw not just any, but the correct inferences, and the correct inference is also a moral one.
Richardson’s part of this debate is not extant2, but from the evidence of his last novel, as well as of some of his letters, his answers to the questions cited above would have been evasive once more (cf. also KeymerKeymer, Tom, Richardson’s Clarissa 122). The History of Sir Charles Grandison once again takes up many of the conflicts in the earlier novels, especially in Clarissa. These conflicts concern not only relations between parents and children, but also between husband and wife, master and servant, neighbours, and friends. In contrast to Clarissa, however, the focus of Grandison is not on ongoing struggles, but on the depiction of an ideal community where conflicts can be reconciled (cf. also DoodyDoody, Margaret Anne, A Natural Passion 340). This allows Richardson to address the issue of conflicts of duty while, at the same time, avoiding the critical point where they might lead to the breakdown of social relations – either through the abuse of authority or through rebellion on the part of those who should obey. Instead of solving the question of how the virtuous can defend themselves, he shows how virtue can be propagated – creating a world which affords the secure space for the good (especially good women) which they may not carve for themselves. Thus, whereas Clarissa is a novel of division, Grandison is one of unification. In the former, the different demands of virtue are found to be in conflict, and human frailty and virtue, body and soul, pull in different directions. In the latter, body and soul, friendship and love, the control of one’s self and influence over others merge in a harmonious whole which enables virtue and happiness to spread. The answer to conflict is not the exact settling of rights – including the right to rebel – but the teaching of harmony.
A number of critics have discussed Richardson’s three novels as they relate to each other. Studies of his works tend to be structured in three parts, beginning with Pamela and ending with Grandison (e.g. DoodyDoody, Margaret Anne, A Natural Passion; GwilliamGwilliam, Tassie; ShepherdShepherd, Lynn). This sequence parallels Richardson’s own thinking – he recalled his earlier novels in the preface to Grandison, for example. As Derek TaylorTaylor, E. Derek has noted, “the author approached each new novel as an opportunity to clarify, generally in a conservative direction, issues of morality or propriety a previous novel had raised” (Reason and Religion 103; cf. also EagletonEagleton, Terry 95). Likewise, Linda ZionkowskiZionkowski, Linda states that “Richardson’s novels take as their subject the power of obligation within patriarchal family life, with Sir Charles Grandison attempting to answer the questions raised in Clarissa” (Women and Gift Exchange 19). Bonnie LatimerLatimer, Bonnie, too, connects all three novels, but reverses the direction of analysis by reading Richardson’s novels “through the lens” of his last one (cf. Making Gender 3).
Such a proceeding tends to change one’s perception of the values endorsed by each novel. After reading the sequel to Pamela, for example, the heroine’s proud statement in the first part – “No Husband in the World […] shall make me do an unjust or base thing” (194) – is put into perspective by her forced submission to her husband’s prohibition to breastfeed their child. Similarly, after reading Grandison, one is left to wonder just what is the difference between Clarissa’s mother, who is criticized for not supporting the heroine more actively, and the mother of Sir Charles Grandison, who is praised for her exemplary submission to her husband. The picture changes yet again, however, if one returns from such a potentially demoralizing second reading of the apparently more radical novels to a second reading of Grandison. If the first process leads to the conclusion that patriarchy is endorsed without question in Richardson’s works, the second leads, among other things, to a realization that his last novel unexpectedly opens a space for women who diverge from the ideal of passive submission.
My own interpretation is the result of such a combined reading of Richardson’s novels, based on the questions raised by his correspondent Hester MulsoMulso, Hester, correspondent of Richardson. What happens when a subject with a low position in the hierarchy – a position which is the lot of most women – tries to act on the basis of all her duties as outlined by writers such as AllestreeAllestree, Richard or DelanyDelany, Patrick, correspondent of Richardson? On the basis of this question, the narrative trajectory of the three novels can be summarised as follows. In Pamela, Richardson illustrates how an individual who seems powerless may yet exert an influence which is beneficial not only to herself, but to those around her. Pamela, young, female, and a servant, must submit to her superiors in age, gender, and class. Nevertheless, she manages to influence her would-be seducer, Mr. B., through her virtue. In the original novel, her efforts are rewarded by a Cinderella-like marriage; in the sequel, she slowly but surely influences her husband until he becomes indeed an excellent husband, father, and master of a household. Through her example, the reader is shown how even those occupying a very humble position within the system of duty have the power to do good. In Clarissa, in contrast, the focus is on the factors which disturb this system. Its heroine, though virtuous herself, is hindered from fully exerting her good qualities by those who have power over her, be it rightful and according to what I call the system of duty – as in the case of her father –