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.
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- Author: Samuel Richardson
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This, Clary, is owing to your prepossession. Let me not have cause to regret that noble firmness of mind in so young a creature which I thought your glory, and which was my boast in your character. In this instance it would be obstinacy, and want of duty.β βHave you not made objections to severalβ β
That was to their minds, to their principles, Madam.β βBut this manβ β
Is an honest man, Clary Harlowe. He has a good mind. He is a virtuous man.
He an honest man? His a good mind, Madam? He a virtuous man?β β
Nobody denies these qualities.
Can he be an honest man who offers terms that will rob all his own relations of their just expectations?β βCan his mind be goodβ β
You, Clary Harlowe, for whose sake he offers so much, are the last person who should make this observation.
Give me leave to say, Madam, that a person preferring happiness to fortune, as I do; that want not even what I have, and can give up the use of that, as an instance of dutyβ β
No more, no more of your merits!β βYou know you will be a gainer by that cheerful instance of your duty; not a loser. You know you have but cast your bread upon the watersβ βso no more of that!β βFor it is not understood as a merit by everybody, I assure you; though I think it a high one; and so did your father and uncles at the timeβ β
At the time, Madam!β βHow unworthily do my brother and sister, who are afraid that the favour I was so lately inβ β
I hear nothing against your brother and sisterβ βWhat family feuds have I in prospect, at a time when I hoped to have most comfort from you all!
God bless my brother and sister in all their worthy views! You shall have no family feuds if I can prevent them. You yourself, Madam, shall tell me what I shall bear from them, and I will bear it: but let my actions, not their misrepresentations (as I am sure by the disgraceful prohibitions I have met with has been the case) speak for me.
Just then, up came my father, with a sternness in his looks that made me tremble.β βHe took two or three turns about my chamber, though pained by his gout; and then said to my mother, who was silent as soon as she saw himβ β
My dear, you are long absent.β βDinner is near ready. What you had to say, lay in a very little compass. Surely, you have nothing to do but to declare your will, and my willβ βBut perhaps you may be talking of the preparationsβ βLet us have you soon downβ βYour daughter in your hand, if worthy of the name.
And down he went, casting his eye upon me with a look so stern, that I was unable to say one word to him, or even for a few minutes to my mother.
Was not this very intimidating, my dear?
My mother, seeing my concern, seemed to pity me. She called me her good child, and kissed me; and told me that my father should not know I had made such opposition. He has kindly furnished us with an excuse for being so long together, said she.β βCome, my dearβ βdinner will be upon table presentlyβ βShall we go down?β βAnd took my hand.
This made me start: What, Madam, go down to let it be supposed we were talking of preparations!β βO my beloved Mamma, command me not down upon such a supposition.
You see, child, that to stay longer together, will be owning that you are debating about an absolute duty; and that will not be borne. Did not your father himself some days ago tell you, he would be obeyed? I will a third time leave you. I must say something by way of excuse for you: and that you desire not to go down to dinnerβ βthat your modesty on the occasionβ β
O Madam! say not my modesty on such an occasion: for that will be to give hopeβ β
And design you not to give hope?β βPerverse girl!β β(Rising and flinging from me); take more time for consideration!β βSince it is necessary, take more timeβ βand when I see you next, let me know what blame I have to cast upon myself, or to bear from your father, for my indulgence to you.
She made, however, a little stop at the chamber-door; and seemed to expect that I would have besought her to make the gentlest construction for me; for, hesitating, she was pleased to say, I suppose you would not have me make a reportβ β
O Madam, interrupted I, whose favour can I hope for if I lose my mammaβs?
To have desired a favourable report, you know, my dear, would have been qualifying upon a point that I was too much determined upon, to give room for any of my friends to think I have the least hesitation about it. And so my mother went downstairs.
I will deposit thus far; and, as I know you will not think me too minute in the relation of particulars so very interesting to one you honour with your love, proceed in the same way. As matters stand, I donβt care to have papers, so freely written, about me.
Pray let Robert call every day, if you can spare him, whether I have anything ready or not.
I should be glad you would not send him empty handed. What a generosity will it be in you, to write as frequently from friendship, as I am forced to do from misfortune! The letters being taken away will be an assurance that you have them. As I shall write and deposit as I have opportunity, the formality of super and subscription will be excused. For I need not say how much I am
Your sincere and ever affectionate,
Cl. Harlowe.
Letter 17 Miss Clarissa Harlowe, to Miss HoweMy mother, on her return, which was as soon as she had dined, was pleased to inform me, that she told
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