Clarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) 📕

Girl!

As your uncle Harlowe chooses not to answer your pert letter to him; and as mine, written to you before,327 was written as if it were in the spirit of prophecy, as you have found to your sorrow; and as you are now making yourself worse than you are in your health, and better than you are in your penitence, as we are very well assured, in order to move compassion; which you do not deserve, having had so much warning: for all these reasons, I take up my pen once more; though I had told your brother, at his going to Edinburgh, that I would not write to you, even were you to write to me, without letting him know. So indeed had we all; for he prognosticated what would happen, as to your applying to us, when you knew not how to help it.

Brother John has hurt your niceness, it seems, by asking you a plain question, which your mother’s heart is too full of grief to let her ask; and modesty will not let your sister ask; though but the consequence of your actions⁠—and yet it must be answered, before you’ll obtain from your father and mother, and us, the notice you hope for, I can tell you that.

You lived several guilty weeks with one of the vilest fellows that ever drew breath, at bed, as well as at board, no doubt, (for is not his character known?) and pray don’t be ashamed to be asked after what may naturally come of such free living. This modesty indeed would have become you for eighteen years of your life⁠—you’ll be pleased to mark that⁠—but makes no good figure compared with your behaviour since the beginning of April last. So pray don’t take it up, and wipe your mouth upon it, as if nothing had happened.

But, may be, I likewise am to shocking to your niceness!⁠—O girl, girl! your modesty had better been shown at the right time and place⁠—Everybody but you believed what the rake was: but you would believe nothing bad of him⁠—What think you now?

Your folly has ruined all our peace. And who knows where it may yet end?⁠—Your poor father but yesterday showed me this text: With bitter grief he showed it me, poor man! and do you lay it to your heart:

“A father waketh for his daughter, when no man knoweth; and the care for her taketh away his sleep⁠—When she is young, lest she pass away the flower of her age⁠—(and you know what proposals were made to you at different times). And, being married, lest she should be hated. In her virginity, lest she should be defiled, and gotten with child in her father’s house⁠—(I don’t make the words, mind that.) And, having an husband, lest she should misbehave herself.” And what follows? “Keep a sure watch over a shameless daughter⁠—(yet no watch could hold you!) lest she make thee a laughing stock to thine enemies⁠—(as you have made us all to this cursed Lovelace), and a byword in the city, and a reproach among the people, and make thee ashamed before the multitude.”

Ecclesiasticus 42:9, 10, etc.

Now will you wish you had not written pertly. Your sister’s severities!⁠—Never, girl, say that is severe that is deserved. You know the meaning of words. Nobody better. Would to the Lord you had acted up but to one half of what you know! then had we not been disappointed and grieved, as we all have been: and nobody more than him who was

Your loving uncle,

Antony Harlowe.

This will be with you tomorrow. Perhaps you may be suffered to have some part of your estate, after you have smarted a little more. Your pertly-answered uncle John, who is your trustee, will not have you be destitute. But we hope all is not true that we hear of you.⁠—Only take care, I advise you, that, bad as you have acted, you act not still worse, if it be possible to act worse. Improve upon the hint.

Letter 407 Miss Cl. Harlowe, to Antony Harlowe, Esq.

Sunday, Aug. 13

Honoured Sir,

I am very sorry for my pert letter to my uncle Harlowe. Yet I did not intend it to be pert. People new to misfortune may be too easily moved to impatience.

The fall of a regular person, no doubt, is dreadful and inexcusable. It is like the sin of apostacy. Would to Heaven, however, that I had had the circumstances of mine inquired into!

If, Sir, I make myself worse than I am in my health, and better than I am in my penitence, it is fit I should be punished for my double dissimulation: and you have the pleasure of being one of my punishers. My sincerity in both respects will, however, be best justified by the event. To that I refer.⁠—May Heaven give you always as much comfort in reflecting upon the reprobation I have met with, as you seem to have pleasure in mortifying a young creature, extremely mortified; and that from a right sense, as she presumes to hope, of her own fault!

What you heard of me I cannot tell. When the nearest and dearest relations give up an unhappy wretch, it is not to be wondered at that those who are not related to her are ready to take up and propagate slanders against her. Yet I think I may defy calumny itself, and (excepting the fatal, though involuntary step of April 10) wrap myself in my own innocence, and be easy. I thank you, Sir, nevertheless, for your caution, mean it what it will.

As to the question required of me to answer, and which is allowed to be too shocking either for a mother to put to a daughter, or a sister to a sister; and which, however, you say I must answer;⁠—O Sir!⁠—And must I answer?⁠—This then be my answer:⁠—“A little time, a much less time than is