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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Dear, honest Collins, make haste: he will: he will. He sets out, and travels all night: for I have told him, that the dearest friend I have in the world has it in her own choice to be happy, and to make me so; and that the letter he will bring from her will assure it to me.
I have ordered him to go directly (without stopping at the Saracenβs-head-inn) to you at your lodgings. Matters are now in so good a way, that he safely may.
Your expected letter is ready written I hope: if it can be not, he will call for it at your hour.
You canβt be so happy as you deserve to be: but I doubt not that you will be as happy as you can; that is, that you will choose to put yourself instantly into Lady Bettyβs protection. If you would not have the wretch for your own sake; have him you must, for mine, for your familyβs, for your honourβs, sake!β βDear, honest Collins, make haste! make haste! and relieve the impatient heart of my belovedβs
Ever faithful, ever affectionate,
Anna Howe.
Letter 329 Miss Howe, to Miss Charlotte MontagueTuesday Morn. July 18
Madam,
I take the liberty to write to you, by this special messenger. In the frenzy of my soul I write to you, to demand of you, and of any of your family who can tell news of my beloved friend, who, I doubt, has been spirited away by the base arts of one of the blackestβ βO help me to a name black enough to call him by! Her piety is proof against self-attempts. It must, it must be he, the only wretch, who could injure such an innocent; and nowβ βwho knows what he has done with her!
If I have patience, I will give you the occasion of this distracted vehemence.
I wrote to her the very moment you and your sister left me. But being unable to procure a special messenger, as I intended, was forced to send by the post. I urged her, (you know I promised that I would: I urged her), with earnestness, to comply with the desires of all your family. Having no answer, I wrote again on Sunday night; and sent it by a particular hand, who travelled all night; chiding her for keeping a heart so impatient as mine in such cruel suspense, upon a matter of so much importance to her, and therefore to me. And very angry I was with her in my mind.
But, judge my astonishment, my distraction, when last night, the messenger, returning post-haste, brought me word, that she had not been heard of since Friday morning! and that a letter lay for her at her lodgings, which came by the post; and must be mine!
She went out about six that morning; only intending, as they believe, to go to morning-prayers at Covent-Garden church, just by her lodgings, as she had done diverse times beforeβ βWent on foot!β βLeft word she should be back in an hour!β βVery poorly in health!
Lord, have mercy upon me! What shall I do!β βI was a distracted creature all last night!
O Madam! you know not how I love her!β βMy own soul is not dearer to me, than my Clarissa Harlowe!β βNay! she is my soulβ βfor I now have noneβ βonly a miserable one, howeverβ βfor she was the joy, the stay, the prop of my life. Never woman loved woman as we love one another. It is impossible to tell you half her excellencies. It was my glory and my pride, that I was capable of so fervent a love of so pure and matchless a creature.β βBut nowβ βwho knows, whether the dear injured has not all her woes, her undeserved woes, completed in death; or is not reserved for a worse fate!β βThis I leave to your inquiryβ βforβ βyourβ β(shall I call the manβ βyour?) relation I understand is still with you.
Surely, my good Ladies, you were well authorized in the proposals you made in presence of my mother!β βSurely he dare not abuse your confidence, and the confidence of your noble relations! I make no apology for giving you this trouble, nor for desiring you to favour with a line, by this messenger,
Your almost distracted
Anna Howe.
Letter 330 Mr. Lovelace, to John Belford, Esq.M. Hall, Sat. Night, June 15
All undone, undone, by Jupiter!β βZounds, Jack, what shall I do now! a curse upon all my plots and contrivances!β βBut I have itβ βin the very heart and soul of me I have it!
Thou toldest me, that my punishments were but beginningβ βCanst thou, O fatal prognosticator, cans thou tell me, where they will end?
Thy assistance I bespeak. The moment thou receivest this, I bespeak thy assistance. This messenger rides for life and deathβ βand I hope heβll find you at your town-lodgings; if he meet not with you at Edgware; where, being Sunday, he will call first.
This cursed, cursed woman, on Friday dispatched man and horse with the joyful news (as she thought it would be to me) in an exulting letter from Sally Martin, that she had found out my angel as on Wednesday last; and on Friday morning, after she had been at prayers at Covent-Garden churchβ βpraying for my reformation perhapsβ βgot her arrested by two sheriffβs officers, as she was returning to her lodgings, who (villains!) put her into a chair they had in readiness, and carried her to one of the cursed fellowβs houses.
She has arrested her for Β£150 pretendedly due for board and lodging: a sum (besides the low villany of the proceeding) which the dear soul could not possibly raise: all her clothes and effects, except what she had on and with her when she went away, being at the old devilβs.
And here, for an aggravation, has the dear creature lain already two days; for I must be gallanting my two aunts and my
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