In the Penknife Scene _Clarissa_ is firmly brave; her Soul abhorred Self-murder, nor would she, as she told Miss _Howe_, willingly like a Coward quit her Post; but in this Case, could she not have awed _Lovelace_ into Distance, tho' _her_ Hand had pointed the Knife, yet might _he_ properly have been said to have struck the Blow. The picturesque Attitude of all present, when _Clarissa_ suddenly cries out, 'God's Eye is upon us' has an Effect upon the Mind that can only be felt; and that it would be a weak and vain Effort for Language to attempt to utter.
In the Prison Scene _Clarissa_ exerts a different kind of Bravery. Insult and Distress, Cold and Hardships, to what she was accustomed to, she bears almost in silence; and by her Suffering without repining, without Fear of any thing but _Lovelace_, she is the strongest Proof of what _Shakespear_ says, that
_----where the greater Malady is fixt The Lesser is scarce felt----_
And let those who have accused _Clarissa_ of having a suspicious Temper, from her being apt to suspect _Lovelace_, here confess, that it must be the Person's Fault at whom her Suspicion is level'd, when she wants that Companion of a great Mind, a generous Confidence; for how soon does _Belford's_ honest Intentions breaking forth in the Manner in which he addresses her, make her rely on the known Friend of her Destroyer, and the publick Companion of all his Rakeries. Nor can I here pass by in perfect Silence, the noble Simplicity with which _Clarissa_ sums up her Story to Mrs. _Smith_ and Mrs. _Lovick_; for I think 'tis the strongest Pattern that can be imagined of that Simplicity which strikes to the Heart, and melts the Soul with all the softer Passions.
In Colonel _Morden's_ Account of the conveying the lifeless Remains of the Divine _Clarissa_ to be interred in the Vault of her Ancestors, his very Words keep solemn Pace with the Herse which incloses her once animated, now lifeless, Form. Step by Step we still attend her; turn with the Horses as they take the Bye-road to _Harlow-place_; start with the wretched, guilty Family, at the first Stroke of the mournful tolling Bell; are fixed in Amazement with the lumbering heavy Noise of the Herse up the paved inner Court-yard: But when the Servant comes in to acquaint the Family with its Arrival, and we read this Line, _He spoke not, he could not speak; he looked, he bowed, and withdrew_, we catch the Servant's silent Grief; our Words are choaked, and our Sensations grow too strong for Utterance. The awful Respect paid to _Clarissa's_ Memory by those Persons, who generally both rejoice and mourn in Noise and Clamour, is inimitably beautiful. But even in this solemn Scene the Author has not forgot the Characters of the principal Actors in it: For the barbarous Wretches who could drive _Clarissa_ from her native Home, and by their Cruelty hurl her to Destruction, could not shed Tears for her Loss, without mingled Bitterness, and sharp-cutting Recriminations on each other; every one striving to rid themselves of the painful Load, and to throw it doubly on their former Companions in Guilt. The Mother only, as she was the least guilty, deplores the heavy Loss with soft melting Tears, and lets Self-accusations flow from her trembling Lips.
