Clarissa Harlowe Samuel Richardson (most important books to read TXT) 📖

to forego all her opening prospects of reconciliation; the reconciliation with a worthless family, on which she has set her whole heart?⁠—Yet she does⁠—she acquits me of all obligation to her, and herself of all expectations from me⁠—And for what?⁠—O that indeed I had given her real cause! Damn’d confounded niceness, prudery, affectation, or pretty ignorance, if not affectation!⁠—By my soul, Belford, I told thee all⁠—I was more indebted to her struggles, than to my own forwardness. I cannot support my own reflections upon a decency so ill-requited.⁠—She could not, she would not have been so much a Harlowe in her resentment, had I deserved, as I ought to have done, her resentment. All she feared had then been over; and her own good sense, and even modesty, would have taught her to make the best of it.

But if ever again I get her into my hands, art, and more art, and compulsion too, if she make it necessary, (and ’tis plain that nothing else will do), shall she experience from the man whose fear of her has been above even his passion for her; and whose gentleness and forbearance she has thus perfidiously triumphed over. Well, says the Poet,

’Tis nobler like a lion to invade
When appetite directs, and seize my prey,
Than to wait tamely, like a begging dog,
Till dull consent throws out the scraps of love.

Thou knowest what I have so lately vowed⁠—and yet, at times (cruel creature, and ungrateful as cruel!) I can subscribe with too much truth to those lines of another Poet:

She reigns more fully in my soul than ever;
She garrisons my breast, and mans against me
Ev’n my own rebel thoughts, with thousand graces,
Ten thousand charms, and new-discovered beauties!

Letter 229 Mr. Lovelace, to John Belford, Esq.

A letter is put into my hands by Wilson himself.⁠—Such a letter!

A letter from Miss Howe to her cruel friend!⁠—

I made no scruple to open it.

It is a miracle that I fell not into fits at the reading of it; and at the thought of what might have been the consequence, had it come into the hands of this Clarissa Harlowe. Let my justly-excited rage excuse my irreverence.

Collins, though not his day, brought it this afternoon to Wilson’s, with a particular desire that it might be sent with all speed to Miss Beaumont’s lodgings, and given, if possible, into her own hands. He had before been here (at Mrs. Sinclair’s with intent to deliver it to the lady with his own hand; but was told (too truly told!) that she was abroad; but that they would give her anything he should leave for her the moment she returned). But he cared not to trust them with his business, and went away to Wilson’s, (as I find by the description of him at both places), and there left the letter; but not till he had a second time called here, and found her not come in.

The letter (which I shall enclose; for it is too long to transcribe) will account to thee for Collins’s coming hither.

O this devilish Miss Howe;⁠—something must be resolved upon and done with that little fury!

Thou wilt see the margin of this cursed letter crowded with indices (☞). I put them to mark the places which call for vengeance upon the vixen writer, or which require animadversion. Return thou it to me the moment thou hast perused it.

Read it here; and avoid trembling for me, if thou canst.

To Miss Laetitia Beaumont

Wednesday, June 7.

My Dearest Friend,

You will perhaps think that I have been too long silent. But I had begun two letters at different times since my last, and written a great deal ☞ each time; and with spirit enough, I assure you; incensed as I was against the abominable wretch you are with; particularly on reading yours of the 21st of the past month.189

☞ The first I intended to keep open till I could give you some account of my proceedings with Mrs. Townsend. It was some days before I saw her: and this intervenient space giving me time to re-peruse what I had written, I thought it proper to lay ☞ that aside, and to write in a style a little less fervent; ☞ for you would have blamed me, I know, for the freedom of some of my expressions. (Execrations, if you please). And when I had gone a good way in the second, the change in your prospects, on his communicating to you Miss Montague’s letter, and his better behaviour, occasioning a change in your mind, I laid that aside also. And in this uncertainty, thought I would wait to see the issue of affairs between you before I wrote again; believing that all would soon be decided one way or other. I had still, perhaps, held this resolution, (as every appearance, according to your letters, was more and more promising), had not the two passed days furnished me with intelligence which it highly imports you to know. But I must stop here, and take a little walk, to try to keep down that just indignation which rises to my pen, when I am about to relate to you what I must communicate.

I am not my own mistress enough⁠—then my mother⁠—always up and down⁠—and watching as if I were writing to a fellow. But I will try if I can contain myself in tolerable bounds. The women of the house where you are⁠—O my dear, the women of the house⁠—but you never thought highly of them⁠—so it cannot be very ☞ surprising⁠—nor would you have stayed so long with them, had not the notion of removing to one of your own, made you less uneasy, and less curious about their characters, and behaviour. Yet I could now wish, that you had been less reserved among them ☞⁠—But I tease you⁠—In short, my dear, you are certainly in a devilish house!⁠—Be assured that the woman is one