Clarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) ๐
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 โinventionsโ in his assault on Clarissaโs honor.
The novel is thus a fascinating study of human nature. Much of Lovelaceโs 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.
Read free book ยซClarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) ๐ยป - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Samuel Richardson
Read book online ยซClarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) ๐ยป. Author - Samuel Richardson
She says, she has eaten ashes like breadโ โA sad mistake to be sure!โ โAnd mingled her drink with weepingโ โSweet maudlin soul! should I say of anybody confessing this, but Miss Harlowe.
She concludes with praying, that the desires of the wicked (meaning poor me, I doubt) may not be granted; that my devices may not be furthered, lest I exalt myself. I should undoubtedly exalt myself, and with reason, could I have the honour and the blessing of such a wife. And if my desires have so honourable an end, I know not why I should be called wicked, and why I should not be allowed to hope, that my honest devices may be furthered, that I may exalt myself.
But here, Mrs. Lovick, let me ask, as something is undoubtedly meant by the lonely sparrow on the housetop, is not the dear creature at this very instant (tell me truly) concealed in Mrs. Smithโs cockloft?โ โWhat say you, Mrs. Lovick? What say you, Mrs. Smith, to this?
They assured me to the contrary; and that she was actually abroad, and they knew not where.
Thou seest, Jack, that I would fain have diverted the chagrin given me not only by the womenโs talk, but by this collection of Scripture-texts drawn up in array against me. Several other whimsical and light things I said (all I had for it!) with the same view. But the widow would not let me come off so. She stuck to me; and gave me, as I told thee, a good deal of uneasiness, by her sensible and serious expostulations. Mrs. Smith put in now-and-then; and the two Jack-pudding fellows, John and Joseph, not being present, I had no provocation to turn the conversation into a farce; and, at last, they both joined warmly to endeavour to prevail upon me to give up all thoughts of seeing the lady. But I could not hear of that. On the contrary, I besought Mrs. Smith to let me have one of her rooms but till I could see her; and were it but for one, two, or three days, I would pay a yearโs rent for it; and quit it the moment the interview was over. But they desired to be excused; and were sure the lady would not come to the house till I was gone, were it for a month.
This pleased me; for I found they did not think her so very ill as they would have me believe her to be; but I took no notice of the slip, because I would not guard them against more of the like.
In short, I told them, I must and would see her: but that it should be with all the respect and veneration that heart could pay to excellence like hers: and that I would go round to all the churches in London and Westminster, where there were prayers or service, from sunrise to sunset, and haunt their house like a ghost, till I had the opportunity my soul panted after.
This I bid them tell her. And thus ended our serious conversation.
I took leave of them; and went down; and, stepping into my chair, caused myself to be carried to Lincolnโs-Inn; and walked in the gardens till the chapel was opened; and then I went in, and stayed prayers, in hopes of seeing the dear creature enter: but to no purpose; and yet I prayed most devoutly that she might be conducted thither, either by my good angel, or her own. And indeed I burn more than ever with impatience to be once more permitted to kneel at the feet of this adorable woman. And had I met her, or espied her in the chapel, it is my firm belief that I should not have been able (though it had been in the midst of the sacred office, and in the presence of thousands) to have forborne prostration to her, and even clamorous supplication for her forgiveness: a Christian act; the exercise of it therefore worthy of the place.
After service was over, I stepped into my chair again, and once more was carried to Smithโs, in hopes I might have surprised her there: but no such happiness for thy friend. I stayed in the back-shop an hour and an half, by my watch; and again underwent a good deal of preachment from the women. John was mainly civil to me now; won over a little by my serious talk, and the honour I professed for the lady. They all three wished matters could be made up between us: but still insisted that she could never get over her illness; and that her heart was broken. A cue, I suppose, they had from you.
While I was there a letter was brought by a particular hand. They seemed very solicitous to hide it from me; which made me suspect it was for her. I desired to be suffered to cast an eye upon the seal, and the superscription; promising to give it back to them unopened.
Looking upon it, I told them I knew the hand and seal. It was from her sister.334 And I hoped it would bring her news that she would be pleased with.
They joined most heartily in the same hope: and, giving the letter to them again, I civilly took leave, and went away.
But I will be there again presently; for I fancy my courteous behaviour to these women will, on their report of it, procure me the favour I so earnestly covet. And so I will leave my letter unsealed, to tell thee the event of my next visit at Smithโs.
Thy servant just calling, I sent thee this: and will soon follow it by another. Meantime, I long to hear how poor Belton is: to whom my best wishes.
Letter 419 Mr. Belford, to Robert Lovelace, Esq.Tuesday,
Comments (0)