Clarissa Harlowe by Samuel Richardson (e reader manga .txt) π
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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 thus, Belford, is the matter settled.
A shower of rain has left me nothing else to do; and therefore I write this letter; though I might as well have deferred it till tomorrow twelve oβclock, when I doubt not to be able to write again, to assure you much I am
Yours, etc.
Lovelace.
Letter 537 Translation of a Letter from F. J. de la TourTo John Belford, Esq.
Near Soho-square, London. Trent,
Dec. 18, N.S.
Sir,
I have melancholy news to inform you of, by order of the Chevalier Lovelace. He showed me his letter to you before he sealed it; signifying, that he was to meet the Chevalier Morden on the 15th. Wherefore, as the occasion of the meeting is so well known to you, I shall say nothing of it here.
I had taken care to have ready, within a little distance, a surgeon and his assistant, to whom, under an oath of secrecy, I had revealed the matter, (though I did not own it to the two gentlemen); so that they were prepared with bandages, and all things proper. For well was I acquainted with the bravery and skill of my chevalier; and had heard the character of the other; and knew the animosity of both. A post-chaise was ready, with each of their footmen, at a little distance.
The two chevaliers came exactly at their time: they were attended by Monsieur Margate, (the Colonelβs gentleman), and myself. They had given orders overnight, and now repeated them in each otherβs presence, that we should observe a strict impartiality between them: and that, if one fell, each of us should look upon himself, as to any needful help or retreat, as the servant of the survivor, and take his commands accordingly.
After a few compliments, both the gentlemen, with the greatest presence of mind that I ever beheld in men, stripped to their shirts, and drew.
They parried with equal judgment several passes. My chevalier drew the first blood, making a desperate push, which, by a sudden turn of his antagonist, missed going clear through him, and wounded him on the fleshy part of the ribs of his right side; which part the sword tore out, being on the extremity of the body; but, before my chevalier could recover himself, the Colonel, in return, pushed him into the inside of the left arm, near the shoulder; and the sword (raking his breast as it passed), being followed by a great effusion of blood, the Colonel said, Sir, I believe you have enough.
My chevalier swore by Gβ βΈΊβ d he was not hurt; βtwas a pinβs point; and so made another pass at his antagonist; which he, with a surprising dexterity, received under his arm, and run my dear chevalier into the body; who immediately fell; saying, The luck is yours, Sirβ βO my beloved Clarissa!β βNow art thouβ βinwardly he spoke three or four words more. His sword dropped from his hand. Mr. Morden threw his down, and ran to him, saying in Frenchβ βAh, Monsieur! you are a dead man!β βCall to God for mercy!
We gave the signal agreed upon to the footmen; and they to the surgeons; who instantly came up.
Colonel Morden, I found, was too well used to the bloody work; for he was as cool as if nothing extraordinary had happened, assisting the surgeons, though his own wound bled much. But my dear chevalier fainted away two or three times running, and vomited blood besides.
However, they stopped the bleeding for the present; and we helped him into the voiture; and then the Colonel suffered his own wound to be dressed; and appeared concerned that my chevalier was between whiles (when he could speak, and struggle), extremely outrageous.β βPoor gentleman! he had made quite sure of victory!
The Colonel, against the surgeonsβ advice, would mount on horseback to pass into the Venetian territories; and generously gave me a purse of gold to pay the surgeons; desiring me to make a present to the footman; and to accept of the remainder, as a mark of his satisfaction in my conduct, and in my care and tenderness of my master.
The surgeons told him that my chevalier could not live over the day.
When the Colonel took leave of him, Mr. Lovelace said, You have well revenged the dear creature.
I have, Sir, said Mr. Morden; and perhaps shall be sorry that you called upon me to this work, while I was balancing whether to obey, or disobey, the dear angel.
There is a fate in it! replied my chevalierβ βa cursed fate!β βor this could not have been!β βBut be ye all witnesses, that I have provoked my destiny, and acknowledge that I fall by a man of honour.
Sir, said the Colonel, with the piety of a confessor, (wringing Mr. Lovelaceβs hand), snatch these few fleeting moments, and commend yourself to God.
And so he rode off.
The voiture proceeded slowly with my chevalier; yet the motion set both his wounds bleeding afresh; and it was with difficulty they again stopped the blood.
We brought him alive to the nearest cottage; and he gave orders to me to dispatch to you the packet I herewith send sealed up; and bid me write to you the particulars of this most unhappy affair: and give you thanks, in his name, for all your favours and friendship to him.
Contrary to all expectation, he lived over the night: but suffered much, as well from his impatience and disappointment, as from his wounds; for he seemed very unwilling to die.
He was delirious, at times, in the two last hours: and then several times cried out, as if he had seen some frightful spectre, Take her away! Take her away! but named nobody. And sometimes praised some lady, (that Clarissa, I suppose, whom he had invoked when he received his deathβs wound), calling her Sweet Excellence! Divine Creature! Fair Sufferer!β βAnd once he said, Look
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