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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And after all, are there not still more deserving persons than I, who never failed in any capital point of duty, than have been more humbled than myself; and some too, by the errors of parents and relations, by the tricks and baseness of guardians and trustees, and in which their own rashness or folly had no part?
I will then endeavour to make the best of my present lot. And join with me, my best, my only friend, in praying, that my punishment may end here; and that my present afflictions may be sanctified to me.
This letter will enable you to account for a line or two, which I sent to Wilsonβs, to be carried to you, only for a feint, to get his servant out of the way. He seemed to be left, as I thought, for a spy upon me. But he returning too soon, I was forced to write a few lines for him to carry to his master, to a tavern near Doctors Commons, with the same view: and this happily answered my end.
I wrote early in the morning a bitter letter to the wretch, which I left for him obvious enough; and I suppose he has it by this time. I kept no copy of it. I shall recollect the contents, and give you the particulars of all, at more leisure.
I am sure you will approve of my escapeβ βthe rather, as the people of the house must be very vile: for they, and that Dorcas too, did hear me (I know they did) cry out for help: if the fire had been other than a villanous plot (although in the morning, to blind them, I pretended to think it otherwise) they would have been alarmed as much as I; and have run in, hearing me scream, to comfort me, supposing my terror was the fire; to relieve me, supposing it was anything else. But the vile Dorcas went away as soon as she saw the wretch throw his arms about me!β βBless me, my dear, I had only my slippers and an under-petticoat on. I was frighted out of my bed, by her cries of fire; and that I should be burnt to ashes in a momentβ βand she to go away, and never to return, nor anybody else! And yet I heard womenβs voices in the next room; indeed I didβ βan evident contrivance of them all:β βGod be praised, I am out of their house!
My terror is not yet over: I can hardly think myself safe: every well-dressed man I see from my windows, whether on horseback or on foot, I think to be him.
I know you will expedite an answer. A man and horse will be procured me tomorrow early, to carry this. To be sure, you cannot return an answer by the same man, because you must see Mrs. Townsend first: nevertheless, I shall wait with impatience till you can; having no friend but you to apply to; and being such a stranger to this part of the world, that I know not which way to turn myself; whither to go; nor what to doβ βWhat a dreadful hand have I made of it!
Mrs. Moore, at whose house I am, is a widow, and of good character: and of this one of her neighbours, of whom I bought a handkerchief, purposely to make inquiry before I would venture, informed me.
I will not set my foot out of doors, till I have your direction: and I am the more secure, having dropped words to the people of the house where the coach set me down, as if I expected a chariot to meet me in my way to Hendon; a village a little distance from this. And when I left their house, I walked backward and forward upon the hill; at first, not knowing what to do; and afterwards, to be certain that I was not watched before I ventured to inquire after a lodging.
You will direct for me, my dear, by the name of Mrs. Harriot Lucas.
Had I not made my escape when I did, I was resolved to attempt it again and again. He was gone to the Commons for a license, as he wrote me word; for I refused to see him, notwithstanding the promise he extorted from me.
How hard, how next to impossible, my dear, to avoid many lesser deviations, when we are betrayed into a capital one!
For fear I should not get away at my first effort, I had apprised him, that I would not set eye upon him under a week, in order to gain myself time for it in different ways. And were I so to have been watched as to have made it necessary, I would, after such an instance of the connivance of the women of the house, have run out into the street, and thrown myself into the next house I could have entered, or claim protection from the first person I had metβ βWomen to desert the cause of a poor creature of their own sex, in such a situation, what must they be!β βThen, such poor guilty sort of figures did they make in the morning after he was gone outβ βso earnest to get me upstairs, and to convince me, by the scorched window-boards, and burnt curtains and vallens, that the fire was realβ βthat (although I seemed to believe all they would have me believe) I was more and more resolved to
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