Clarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) π
Description
Clarissa Harlowe, or The History of a Young Lady is one of the longest novels in the English language. Written by Samuel Richardson over a period of several years and published in 1748, it is composed entirely of letters. Though this may seem daunting, the novel is highly regarded and is considered by many critics as one of the greatest works of English literature, appearing in several lists of the best British novels ever written.
The novel tells the story of young Clarissa, eighteen years of age at the start of the novel. She is generally regarded by her family, neighbors, and friends as the most virtuous and kind young woman they know. But she is drawn into correspondence with Richard Lovelace, a well-born, rich young man regarded as something of a rake, when she attempts to reconcile a dispute between Lovelace and her rash brother. Lovelace, imagining this indicates her love for him, carries out a series of strategems which result in him essentially abducting her from her family, from whom Clarissa then becomes estranged.
Much of the correspondence consists of the letters between Clarissa and her close friend Anna Howe, and between Lovelace and his friend Jack Belford, to whom he confesses all of his strategems and βinventionsβ in his assault on Clarissaβs honor.
The novel is thus a fascinating study of human nature. Much of Lovelaceβs actions and attitudes towards women are regrettably only too familiar to modern readers. And while Clarissa herself may be a little too good to be true, nevertheless she is shown as having some flaws which lead to a tragic outcome.
This Standard Ebooks edition is based on the 9-volume Chapman and Hall edition of 1902.
Read free book Β«Clarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) πΒ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Samuel Richardson
Read book online Β«Clarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) πΒ». Author - Samuel Richardson
You seem, child, to have a high notion of the matrimonial duty; and Iβll warrant, like the rest of your sex, (one or two, whom I have the honour to know, excepted), that you will go to church to promise what you will never think of afterwards. But, sweet child! as your worthy Mamma Norton calls you, think a little less of the matrimonial, (at least, till you come into that state), and a little more of the filial duty.
How can you say, you are to bear all the misery, when you give so large a share of it to your parents, to your uncles, to your aunt, to myself, and to your sister; who all, for eighteen years of your life, loved you so well?
If of late I have not given you room to hope for my favour or compassion, it is because of late you have not deserved either. I know what you mean, little reflecting fool, by saying, it is much in my power, although but your brother, (a very slight degree of relationship with you), to give you that peace which you can give yourself whenever you please.
The liberty of refusing, pretty Miss, is denied you, because we are all sensible, that the liberty of choosing, to everyoneβs dislike, must follow. The vile wretch you have set your heart upon speaks this plainly to everybody, though you wonβt. He says you are his, and shall be his, and he will be the death of any man who robs him of his property. So, Miss, we have a mind to try this point with him. My father, supposing he has the right of a father in his child, is absolutely determined not to be bullied out of that right. And what must that child be, who prefers the rake to a father?
This is the light in which this whole debate ought to be taken. Blush, then, Delicacy, that cannot bear the poetβs amor omnibus idem!β βBlush, then, Purity! Be ashamed, Virgin Modesty! And, if capable of conviction, surrender your whole will to the will of the honoured pair, to whom you owe your being: and beg of all your friends to forgive and forget the part you have of late acted.
I have written a longer letter than ever I designed to write to you, after the insolent treatment and prohibition you have given me: and, now I am commissioned to tell you, that your friends are as weary of confining you, as you are of being confined. And therefore you must prepare yourself to go in a very few days, as you have been told before, to your uncle Antonyβs; who, notwithstanding you apprehensions, will draw up his bridge when he pleases; will see what company he pleases in his own house; nor will he demolish his chapel to cure you of your foolish late-commenced antipathy to a place of divine worship.β βThe more foolish, as, if we intended to use force, we could have the ceremony pass in your chamber, as well as anywhere else.
Prejudice against Mr. Solmes has evidently blinded you, and there is a charitable necessity to open your eyes: since no one but you thinks the gentleman so contemptible in his person; nor, for a plain country gentleman, who has too much solid sense to appear like a coxcomb, justly blamable in his manners.β βAnd as to his temper, it is necessary you should speak upon fuller knowledge, than at present it is plain you can have of him.
Upon the whole, it will not be amiss, that you prepare for your speedy removal, as well for the sake of your own conveniency, as to show your readiness, in one point, at least, to oblige your friends; one of whom you may, if you please to deserve it, reckon, though but a brother,
James Harlowe.
P.S.: If you are disposed to see Mr. Solmes, and to make some excuses to him for past conduct, in order to be able to meet him somewhere else with the less concern to yourself for your freedoms with him, he shall attend you where you please.
If you have a mind to read the settlements, before they are read to you for your signing, they shall be sent you upβ βWho knows, but they will help you to some fresh objections?β βYour heart is free, you knowβ βIt mustβ βFor, did you not tell your mother it was? And will the pious Clarissa fib to her mamma?
I desire no reply. The case requires none. Yet I will ask you, Have you, Miss, no more proposals to make?
I was so vexed when I came to the end of this letter, (the postscript to which, perhaps, might be written after the others had seen the letter), that I took up my pen, with an intent to write to my uncle Harlowe about resuming my own estate, in pursuance of your advice. But my heart failed me, when I recollected, that I had not one friend to stand by or support me in my claim; and it would but the
Comments (0)