One Great Family: Domestic Relationships in Samuel Richardson's Novels. Simone Höhn

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Person assum’d” (Pamela in her Exalted Condition 365). He should act more proudly and seriously, she more modestly, than they do. On another level, however, their “habits” do indeed express their characters: Mr. B. does have pride, and the Countess is more virtuous than Pamela fears. In consequence of their imprudent behaviour, rumours of adultery arise; these are wildly exaggerated and yet partly justified, since the behaviour of B. and the Countess affronts propriety. The masquerade is so horrible precisely because it allows essentially virtuous people to play with fire, instead of restricting all behaviour to that which is proper.

      Nevertheless, some Richardsonian characters can envisage ways to counteract the negative effects of masquerade by fixing its relation to truth. One such proposition is Caroline L.’s suggestion that masquerade could be “a rational and almost instructive entertainment” if only decent characters were assumed and then “support[ed] with wit and spirit” (1:427; cf. also Pamela in her Exalted Condition 368). Sir Charles rejects her proposal by arguing not only that few people are able to fulfil the prerequisites of “wit” and “decorum”, but that the example of the select few would reach down to those who would copy masquerade in a degenerated, riotous form. In other words, innocuous versions of the play with truth and appearance may indeed be imagined, but to act on this is to encourage deceit.

      However, role play is not condemned so thoroughly in all of Richardson’s fiction. Indeed, Pamela – despite its condemnation of masquerade – includes and endorses various kinds of ‘masquerade’. Both the original novel and its continuation include various scenes of disguise which can be either beneficial or problematic; indeed, it is often a matter of interpretation as to what functions as ‘disguise’ and what does not – Pamela’s appearance in rustic dress is presented by her as acting up to her true identity, while Mr. B. interprets it as a ploy to catch his attention (Pamela 57).2 In Pamela in her Exalted Condition, the heroine condemns the disguises employed in the stage comedy The Tender Husband. In the play, almost all the characters cheat each other, using lies and cross-dressing to achieve their purposes, which are utterly selfish (355–61). However, both Pamela and her husband also employ disguise for justifiable ends. Thus, Pamela – at the behest of her friends – acts the part of “Lady Jenny” in front of her husband’s uncle, Sir Jacob Swynford, who has come to rebuke his nephew for marrying beneath him. By pretending to be the well-born Lady Jenny, daughter of the Countess of C., low-born Pamela has the chance to demonstrate her worth. The trick succeeds, and Sir Jacob is reconciled: “Who can chuse but bless you?” (217). What distinguishes the ‘masquerade’ staged for Sir Jacob from the deceits practiced in The Tender Husband is the different motivation of the actors. Mr. B.’s uncle is deceived so that he can see the truth.3

      Role-play, albeit not actual masquerade, is discussed in even more light-hearted terms in Richardson’s Familiar LettersRichardson, SamuelFamiliar Letters on Important Occasions on Important Occasions. In letter LXXXV, a gentleman rebukes a lady for her “supposed Coquetry” (108) only to be reprimanded in turn:

      Perhaps I like to see the young fellows dying for me; but since they can do it without impairing their health, don’t be so very angry at me. In short, sir, you are your own master; and, Heaven be thank’d, I am, at present, my own mistress; and your well-manner’d letter will make me resolve to be so longer than perhaps I had otherwise resolved. (109)

      The lady’s answer reminds suitor and reader alike that her own coquetry, like “the young fellows dying”, are part of an elaborate code of behaviour known to all parties, who are able to support their parts with the wit and decorum stipulated by Caroline. Clearly, decorum – specifically with regard to courtship – involves its own kind of masquerade; indeed, Clarissa’s friend Miss Biddulph claims that female “coquetry” is only the natural consequence of men’s “false hearts” (44). When Harriet prepares for her masquerade, she tries to echo the attitude of the anonymous lady who “likes to see young fellows dying for her”. Though she feels uncomfortable in her dress from the first, she attempts to support her character of “Arcadian Princess” with spirit (1:115). As she ends her letter to her cousin Lucy, she asks her to imagine “how many Pretty-fellows […] in this dress, will be slain by [Harriet]” (1:116). Her playful assumption of coquetry comes back to haunt her when she later remembers that this was the last line she wrote before her abduction (1:150). As she recognises at the masquerade, dress and situation cannot be kept separate from behaviour, and perhaps not even from character: “No prude could come, or if she came, could be a prude, there” (1:427).4

      Her abduction shakes her confidence that play and truthfulness can coexist. Although she recognises that it could have been organised from any other place of diversion (1:426), her narration repeatedly links the abduction to masquerade. It seems significant, in this context, that her playful impersonation of other characters early during her stay in London has no parallel in the later parts of the book. Before the masquerade, Harriet enjoys a seemingly more harmless manner of impersonation: she imagines her new London acquaintance writing letters which report their impressions of her. LatimerLatimer, Bonnie suggests that these letters are an assumption of power: “Harriet […] defines herself by annexing or over-writing, by working on and thus possessing, other characters” (Making Gender 51). According to her, Harriet’s openness about the letters’ inauthenticity is, in itself, a mask which gives false authority to her representation. Latimer’s analysis of the complexity of her (self-)representation is largely convincing. However, her reading of Harriet – “she is continually slyly representing others – inventing others – praising herself” (54) – also suggests that all shaping of experience is somehow manipulation, a tool to control others. I would argue, instead, that the letters imply her confidence in the disparity between truth and falsehood. Relying on her readers’ knowledge of herself, she can repeat the compliments she receives, inviting her correspondents to put them in context.

      Similarly, trusting in their confidence in her own sincerity, she can offer a ‘real’ and a ‘fully fictional’ portrait of the same men and women, playfully assuming a role without danger that either they or she will be misrepresented through it. She expects the same attitude from her readers: one of Harriet’s responses to her uncle’s accusations of vanity is to characterise his words as a playful misrepresentation. As long as he says “what may be said, [rather] than what he really thinks”, and as long as her relatives value her, she will not be hurt (1:66). Her playfulness and her certainty are similarly expressed when she tries to “mak[e] mouths” in the mirror in imitation of the pedant Mr. Walden (1:46). As LatimerLatimer, Bonnie (here) suggests, Harriet “appears to be so comfortable with her own identity that she can hazard slipping into Mr Walden’s, although she does not finally do so” (Making Gender 35). Indeed, her body refuses to partake of the masquerade; Harriet is unable to perform the ridiculous, repulsive facial expressions she has described with so much gusto. This confidence in herself and in the transparency of truth is shattered during her abduction. Later letters still include detailed accounts of other characters’ behaviour, but the aspect of impersonation is taken over by two of the Grandison siblings – Sir Charles and Charlotte. Their style of ‘masquerade’ differs, however, from Harriet’s and will be discussed in part III. Harriet, in contrast, will come to embody ‘frankness’, the happy congruence of inner truth and its outward appearance (cf. also McMasterMcMaster, Juliet, Reading the Body 96). Although the spectre of hypocrisy is briefly raised in Grandison, this gives way to an emphasis on the healing powers of ‘proper’ performance.

      1.5 Body and mind

      In the face of the difficulty in deciding between the essence and the semblance of virtue, many characters in Richardson’s novels try to read the evidence of the body to guess at the mind. The body, however, takes on a double role. On the one hand, it can confirm the sincerity of the mind – as in the tears frequently shed by Lovelace and his associates, who feel some compunction even while trying to trick Clarissa. Interestingly, the heroine is generally correct in recognising the tears as involuntary and thus authentic expressions of the inner СКАЧАТЬ