Pamela

by Samuel Richardson

  And do not such actions, and such contrivances as those of this wicked man, justify the world’s censoriousness? Indeed they do!

  He then concludes with his regards to the good woman; and this was looked upon, by both the farmer and his wife, as mighty condescending: and to be sure he designed it should.

  I was greatly shocked, you may well think, at the wicked arts of this abominable gentleman. Gentleman shall I call him? He says, you see, too cunningly for me, that I would not own this pretended love affair; so that he has prepossessed them with a doubt of the truth of all I could say in my own behalf. And as they are his tenants, and as all his tenants love him, (for he has some amiable qualities, and so he had need) I found all my hopes in a manner frustrated. And the thought of this, at first reading the letter, so affected me, that I wept bitterly; and could not forbear saying, that the wicked writer was as much too hard for me in his contrivances, as he was too powerful for me in his riches. And not entering directly upon my defence, the farmer the less doubted the truth of what the letter contained, and began to praise my master’s care and concern for me; and to caution me against receiving the addresses of anyone, without the advice and consent of my friends; and so made me the subject of a lesson for his daughter’s improvement: at the same time intimating, that I should be guilty of great un-worthiness, if I presumed to suggest anything to the discredit of a gentleman, who, in this proceeding, could have no view but to my good; and to that of the young man whom I was supposed to love. Laying great weight upon his landlord’s resolution not to come this way, while I was at the house he proposed to send me to; and this purposely that he might not give room for foul suspicions.

  This raised me from my wailing fit. I told them, that all that was suggested in the letter was false, abominably false: that I was not in love with any man breathing; and that my master’s vile contrivances had made it necessary I should acquaint them with the whole truth.

  This I did; and afterwards read to them his letter to me; and gave it such comments as I thought it would well bear.

  The old couple at first seemed much at a loss what to think, or what to say. They looked upon one another; and the honest woman shook her head, and seemed to pity me, while the daughter shed tears at my relation, and still in more abundance, at my earnest appeal to her father and mother for their protection.

  This gave me a momentary hope; and I was proceeding with my appeal to move them in my behalf, when the old farmer, pulling out his spectacles, desired that he might be suffered himself to read his honour’s letter to me; as he called one of the wickedest of men.

  I gave him the letter; but found by the event, that he only seemed to wish to read it in order to acquit his landlord.

  ‘My dear,’ said he to his wife (looking upon the letter with his spectacles on, and now and then upon her, and now and then upon me, and sometimes upon his daughter), ‘I know not what to say to this business. To be sure there is something very odd in the story, as this young gentlewoman tells it: but does not his honour say, that this step of his will oblige her father?’

  I would then have spoken; but he desired to be heard with patience.

  ‘Does he not tell us, Dorothy, in the letter he was so good as to write to us, that she will not own her love? And will she own it?’ said the silly old man. ‘Well then; so far so good. And does he not say, that he has written to her to soothe her? Very good of so great a man, I think: and that he has not told her the motive of his doings? And does not this also come out to be true? And does he not say, that he will not come NERST101 her, that he may not give occasions for foul suspicions? And does he not tell us what is the nature of headstrong girls? Too well we know what that is, Dorothy.’ And then he frowningly looked upon his daughter, who cast her eyes down, and blushed. ‘And does he not say, that this young gentlewoman here will be out of humour at her disappointment? And do not the free things she have said of his honour shew this also to be true?’

  Again I would have spoken; but he angrily desired to be heard out. I am sure the man is a tyrant over his wife and daughter; not such a one as you, my dear father.

  ‘Well,’ proceeded he, ‘and does not his honour promise, by all that’s good and holy (solemn and serious words, I do assure you!) that he intends nothing dishonourable by her? Bless my heart, young mistress! what would you have more? And who ever knew the ‘squire worse than his word, though but in common matters, and where he sweareth not to it? And does he not say, that his care of her is owing to his dutiful remembrance of his mother, the best of ladies, God rest her soul! And can he break his promise to a dying mother? He cannot; no man can be so wicked as that comes to. Furthermore, does he not say, that if the young man was in the way to maintain a wife, he would not give himself all this trouble? An ungrateful thing, indeed, (True, says his honour. His honour is a wise man, look ye, do you see?) to endeavour to save people against their will.’ And then he looked fiercely at his poor meek daughter.

  ‘And here again,’ proceeded the tedious old man, (and now I was glad that he had almost gone through the vile letter), ‘does not his honour say, that when he has managed some particular affairs (put the young man in a way, no doubt) he shall appear in a quite otherguess102 light than he now does? And that an happy event shall reward her patience? And that the house she is going to, shall be at her command? A great thing, I assure you! And does he not promise to write to her father, to make him quiet and easy? Come, come, young mistress, I see not that the least dishonour is intended you. Be prudent and discreet, therefore, as his honour advises. It is a fearful thing to reflect upon the mischiefs that it is in the power of women to do to the reputation of us men. I once had some slurs; but who has escaped them, sooner or later, that has had concerns with the sex? So be patient and contented, and all will be well, as far as I can see. And there is an end of the matter.’

  And then he swelled strangely, half over the table, as I thought, proud of his fine speech and wisdom.

  I in vain attempted, when he had made an end, to convince him and his wife of the truth of my relation, and of the reality of my danger, and the more from the wicked glosses my master took so much pains to put upon his proceedings with so poor and so inconsiderable a girl as I am, and as he ought to think me. A fine gentleman’s notions of the word honour, I moreover said, and those of us common people, might be very different. He might also be a generous and kind landlord, and yet not a virtuous man; and the treatment I had received from him at his house, and his present violent proceedings, to carry me to one of his houses, when I was to have gone to my father and mother, were strong and unquestionable evidences, that he meant me not honourably. In vain, I say, did I endeavour to convince them of the justice of these and other observations. The farmer declared, that he could never question his landlord’s honour so solemnly given: adding, that although great and learned men had different ways of thinking and acting from others, as in this case, yet he was confident that all would turn out right at last And one very vile hint he gave (to be sure, my dear father and mother, the man, though a man in years, cannot be a right good man!), passing an angry eye, as of contempt, from me to his daughter, and then to his wife, ‘A strange to-do these girls make,’ said he, ‘and all for what? Why truly they can hardly be kept from running away with one man, yet make a mighty pother with their virtue and their fears from another. I say, ’tis humour and folly, and nothing else, and not goodness.’

  And then slap went his hand upon the board. I thought I never saw a man put on so ugly a look in my life. His daughter does not seem to be a forward girl. But, as I said before, he must be a tyrant, and no good man at the bottom.

  I could have given him an answer he would not have liked; but was willing to carry it fair, though half spiritless at the repulse I had met with; for, thought I, if I can but get a little more time to stay here, who knows but I may contrive some way to escape? I therefore told the farmer and his wife, how much I was fatigued, and begged they would give me entertainment with them a
little longer than that night. I was sure, I said, that their landlord himself would not be against it, if he knew how much I was disordered with the journey and my apprehensions.

  They said, they were loth to deny me anything in their power, as I had seen the ’squire had wished them to treat me kindly. If therefore Mr Robert could dispense with his orders, they should not refuse me.

  Robert was sent for up. He came. I told him that I found myself so much fatigued, that I could not think of setting out so soon the next morning as he expected. But he told me that he must follow his orders; and that setting out so early would break the neck of my journey, as he phrased it; God forgive me! But I was ready to wish that the necks – I think I must not say what I wished both to the master and the man.

  Nevertheless, I told the farmer and his wife, before Robert’s face, that if they would give me leave to stay one day more, this surly coachman, who must needs think all was not fair that he was employed about, and who had no right to controul me, should not compel me to go with him. But they said, that as I had owned myself to be the servant of the squire, they were of opinion that they ought not to intermeddle between a man of his rank and his servant. They were under great obligations to their landlord, they added, and they expected repairs, and other favours from him; and as they doubted not that I might depend upon his honour so solemnly given, and under his hand and seal too, they did not chuse to disoblige him. So I was forced to give up all hope from them.

  I had very little rest that night; and next morning early was obliged to set out. They were so civil, however, as to suffer their servant-maid to accompany me five miles onward, as it was so early; and then she was set down, and walked back

  Notwithstanding this disappointment, I was not quite hopeless, that I might yet find means to escape the plots of this wicked designer. And as I was on the way in the chariot, after the maid had left me, I thought of an experient which gave me no small comfort.

  This it was. I resolved that when we came into some town to bait, as Robert, I doubted not, must do for the horses sake, (for he drove at a great rate) I would apply myself to the mistress of the house, and tell her my case, and refuse to go further.

  Having nobody but this wicked coachman to contend with, I was very full of this project; and depended so much on its success, that I forbore to call out for help, and for rescue, as I may say, to different persons whom we passed; and who, perhaps, would have heard my story, and taken me out of the hands of a coachman: yet two of these were young gentlemen; and how did I know but I might have fallen into difficulties as great as those I wanted to free myself from.

  After very hard driving, we reached the town at which this too faithful servant to a wicked master proposed to put up. And he drove into an inn of good appearance. But you may believe, my dear father and mother, that I was excessively alarmed, when, at my being shewn a room, I was told that I was expected there, and that a little entertainment was provided for me. Yet was neither met nor received at my alighting by any body who had so provided for me.

  Nevertheless, I was determined to try what could be done with relation to my project with the mistress of the inn; and for fear of the worst, to lose no time about it. I sent for her in, therefore, and making her sit down by me, I said, ‘I hope, madam, you will excuse me; but I must tell you my case, and that before anybody comes in, who may prevent me. I am a poor unhappy young creature, to whom it will be a great charity to lend your advice and assistance, as I shall appear to deserve your pity. And you seem to be a good sort of gentlewoman, and one who would assist an oppressed innocent person.’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ said she, ‘I hope you guess right, and I have the happiness to know something of the matter before you speak. Pray, call my sister Jewkes.’ Jewkes! Jewkes! thought I, I have heard of that name; for I was too much confounded to have a clear notion of anything at the moment

  Then the wicked creature appeared, whom I had never seen but once before, and I was frighted out of my wits. Now, thought I, am I in a much worse situation than I was at the farmer’s.

  The naughty woman came up to me with an air of confidence, and kissed me, ‘See, sister,’ said she, ‘here’s a charming creature!’ and looked in such a manner as I never saw a woman look in my life.

  I was quite silent and confounded. But yet, when I came a little to myself, I was resolved to steal away from them, if I could; and once being a little faintish, I made that a pretence to take a turn into the garden for air: but the wretch would not trust me out of her sight; and the people I saw being only those of the house, who, I found, were all under the horrid Jewkes’s direction, and prepossessed103 by her, no doubt, I was forced, though with great reluctance, to set out with her in the chariot; for she came thither on horseback with a man-servant, who rode by us the rest of the way, leading her horse. And now I gave over all thoughts of redemption.

  Here are strange pains, thought I, taken to ruin a poor innocent, helpless, and even worthless young creature. This plot is laid too deep, and has been too long hatching, to be baffled,104 I fear. But then, I put up my prayers to God, who I knew was able to save me, when all human means should fail: and in him I was resolved to confide.

  You may see (yet, O! that kills me; for I know not whether ever you can see what I now write, or not) what sort of woman this Mrs Jewkes is, compared to good Mrs Jervis, by this.

  Every now and then she would be staring in my face, in the chariot, and squeezing my hand, and saying, ‘Why, you are very pretty, my silent dear!’ And once she offered to kiss me. But I said, ‘I don’t like this sort of carriage, Mrs Jewkes; it is not like two persons of one sex to each other.’ She fell a laughing very confidently, and said, ‘That’s prettily said, I vow! Then thou hadst rather be kissed by the other sex? ’Ifackins,105 I commend thee for that!’

  I was sadly teazed with her impertinence, and bold way; but no wonder; she was housekeeper at an inn, before she came to my master. And indeed she made nothing to talk boldly on twenty occasions in the chariot, and said two or three times, when she saw the tears trickle down my cheeks, I was sorely hurt, truly, to have the handsomest and finest young gentleman in five counties in love with me!

  So I find I am got into the hands of a wicked procuress, and if I had reason to be apprehensive with good Mrs Jervis, and where everybody loved me, what a dreadful prospect have I now before me, in the hands of such a woman as this!

  O Lord bless-me, what shall I do! What shall I do!

  About eight at night we entered the court-yard of this handsome, large, old, lonely mansion, that looked to me then, with all its brown nodding horrors of lofty elms and pines about it, as if built for solitude and mischief. And here, said I to myself, I fear, is to be the scene of my ruin, unless God protect me, who is all sufficient.

  I was very ill at entering it, partly from fatigue, and partly from dejection of spirits: and Mrs Jewkes got some mulled wine, and seemed mighty officious to welcome me thither. And while she was absent (ordering the wine) the wicked Robin came in to me, and said, ‘I beg a thousand pardons for my part in this affair, since I see your grief, and your distress; and I do assure you, that I am sorry it fell to my task.’

  ‘Mighty well, Mr Robert!’ said I; ‘I have heard that the hangman at an execution usually asks the poor creature’s pardon, and then pleads his duty, and calmly does his office. But I am no criminal, as you all know; and if I could have thought it my duty to comply with a wicked master, I had saved you in particular the merit of this vile service.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said he, ‘you take it so. But everybody don’t think alike.’

  ‘Well,’ said I, ‘whatever your thoughts may he, you have done your part, Mr Robert, towards my ruin, very faithfully; and will have cause to be sorry, perhaps, at the long run, when you shall see the mischief that comes of it. You knew I had reason to think that I was to be carried to my father’s; and I can only, once more, thank you for your part in this vile proceeding. God forgive you!’

  Mrs Jewke
s came in as he went out. ‘What have you said to Robin?’ said she; ‘the foolish fellow is ready to cry,’ and she laughed as she spoke, as if she despised him for his remorse. ‘I need not be afraid of your following his example, Mrs Jewkes,’ said I: ‘I have been telling him, that he has done his part to my ruin: and he now can’t help it! So his repentance does me no good; I wish it may him.’

  She calls me madam at every word; paying that undesired respect to me, as you shall hear, in the view of its being one day in my power to serve or this-serve her, if ever I should be so vile as to be a madam to the wickedest designer that ever lived. Poor creatures indeed are such as will court the favour of wretches who obtain undue power, by the forfeiture of their honesty! And such a poor creature is this woman, who can madam up an inferior fellow-servant, in such views; and who yet, at times, is insolent enough; for it is her true nature to be insolent.106

  ‘I do assure you, madam,’ said she, ‘I should be as ready to cry as Robin, if I should be the instrument of doing you harm.’

  ‘It is not in his power to help it now,’ said I; ‘but your part is come, and you may chuse whether you will contribute to my ruin or not.’ ‘Why, look ye, look ye, madam,’ said she, ‘I have a great notion of doing my duty to my master; and therefore you may depend upon it, if I can do that, and serve you, I will: but you must think, if your desire, and his will, come to clash once, I shall do as he bids me, let it be what it will.’

  ‘Pray, Mrs Jewkes,’ said I, ‘don’t madam me so: I am but a silly poor girl, set up by the gambol of fortune, for a may-game;107 and now I am to be something, and now nothing, just as that thinks fit to sport with me. Let us, therefore, talk upon a foot together; and that will be a favour done me; for I was at best but a servant girl; and now am no more than a discarded poor desolate creature; and no better than a prisoner. God be my deliverer and comforter!’