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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Meanwhile my honest coachman is walking about Miss Rawlinβs door, in order to bring me notice of Mrs. Mooreβs return to her own house. I hope her gossipβs tale will be as soon told as mineβ βwhich take as follows:β β
Will told them, before I came, βThat his lady was but lately married to one of the finest gentlemen in the world. But that he, being very gay and lively, she was mortal jealous of him; and, in a fit of that sort, had eloped from him. For although she loved him dearly, and he doted upon her, (as well he might, since, as they had seen, she was the finest creature that ever the sun shone upon), yet she was apt to be very wilful and sullen, if he might take liberty to say soβ βbut truth was truth;β βand if she could not have her own way in everything, would be for leaving him. That she had three or four times played his master such tricks; but with all the virtue and innocence in the world; running away to an intimate friend of hers, who, though a young lady of honour, was but too indulgent to her in this only failing; for which reason his master has brought her to London lodgings; their usual residence being in the country: and that, on his refusing to satisfy her about a lady he had been seen with in St. Jamesβs Park, she had, for the first time since she came to town, served his master thus, whom he had left half-distracted on this account.β
And truly well he might, poor gentleman! cried the honest folks, pitying me before they saw me.
βHe told them how he came by his intelligence of her; and made himself such an interest with them, that they helped him to a change of clothes for himself; and the landlord, at his request, privately inquired, if the lady actually remained at Mrs. Mooreβs, and for how long she had taken the lodgings?β βwhich he found only to be for a week certain; but she had said, that she believed she should hardly stay so long. And then it was that he wrote his letter, and sent it by honest Peter Patrick, as thou hast heard.β
When I came, my person and dress having answered Willβs description, the people were ready to worship me. I now-and-then sighed, now-and-then put on a lighter air; which, however, I designed should show more of vexation ill-disguised, than of real cheerfulness; and they told Will it was such a thousand pities so fine a lady should have such skittish tricks; adding, that she might expose herself to great dangers by them; for that there were rakes everywhereβ β(Lovelaces in every corner, Jack!) and many about that town, who would leave nothing unattempted to get into her company; and although they might not prevail upon her, yet might they nevertheless hurt her reputation; and, in time, estrange the affections of so fine a gentleman from her.
Good sensible people these!β βHey, Jack!
Here, Landlord, one word with you.β βMy servant, I find, has acquainted you with the reason of my coming this way.β βAn unhappy affair, Landlord!β βA very unhappy affair!β βBut never was there a more virtuous woman.
So, Sir, she seems to be. A thousand pities her ladyship has such waysβ βand to so good-humoured a gentleman as you seem to be, Sir.
Mother-spoilt, Landlord!β βMother-spoilt!β βthatβs the thing!β βBut (sighing) I must make the best of it. What I want you to do for me is to lend me a greatcoat.β βI care not what it is. If my spouse should see me at a distance, she would make it very difficult for me to get at her speech. A greatcoat with a cape, if you have one. I must come upon her before she is aware.
I am afraid, Sir, I have none fit for such a gentleman as you.
O, anything will do!β βThe worse the better.
Exit Landlord.β βRe-enter with two greatcoats.
Ay, Landlord, this will be best; for I can button the cape over the lower part of my face. Donβt I look devilishly down and concerned, Landlord?
I never saw a gentleman with a better-natured look.β ββTis pity you should have such trials, Sir.
I must be very unhappy, no doubt of it, Landlord.β βAnd yet I am a little pleased, you must needs think, that I have found her out before any great inconvenience has arisen to her. However, if I cannot break her of these freaks, sheβll break my heart; for I do love her with all her failings.
The good woman, who was within hearing of all this, pitied me much.
Pray, your Honour, said she, if I may be so bold, was madam ever a mamma?
Noβ β(and I sighed).β βWe have been but a little while married; and as I may say to you, it is her own fault that she is not in that way. (Not a word of a lie in this, Jack). But to tell you truth, Madam, she may be compared to the dog in the mangerβ β
I understand you, Sir, (simpering), she is but young, Sir. I have heard of one or two such skittish young ladies, in my time, Sir.β βBut when madam is in that way, I dare say, as she loves you, (and it would be strange if she did not!) all this will be over, and she may make the best of wives.
Thatβs all my hope.
She is a fine lady as I ever beheld.β βI hope, Sir, you wonβt be too severe. Sheβll get over all these freaks, if once she be a mamma, I warrant.
I canβt be severe to herβ βshe knows that. The moment I see her, all resentment is over with me,
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