Pamela

by Samuel Richardson

  My master came in again, and said, ‘Well, thank my stars! these rakes are going now; but, as I must set out with them, it shall be in my chariot; for if I took horse, I should have difficulty to part with them. They intend to gather company as they go, and resolve to make a mad tour of it for some days together.’

  Abraham coming in to tell him, the gentlemen were going, he left me, and set out with them.

  I took a turn in the garden with Mrs Jewkes, after they were gone: and having walked a-while, I said, I should be glad of her company down the elm-walk, to meet the chariot.

  What a different aspect every thing in and about this house bears now, to my thinking, to what it once had! The garden, the pond, the alcove, the elm-walk. But my prison is become my palace; and no wonder every thing about it wears another face!

  We sat down upon the broad stile, leading towards the road. How different, poor woman! thought I, as we sat, is thy behaviour to me now, to what it was the last time I sat here!

  At last my best beloved returned, and alighted there. Mrs Jewkes retired at his approach. ‘What, my Pamela,’ (and saluted me) ‘brings you hither? I hope, to meet me!’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said I. ‘That’s kind,’ said he; ‘but why that averted eye? that downcast countenance, as if you were afraid of me?’ ‘You must not think so, sir,’ replied I. ‘Revive my heart then,’said he, ‘with a more chearful aspect; and let that over-anxious solicitude, which appears in the most charming face in the world, be chased from it. Have you, my dear girl, any fears that I can dissipate; any doubts that I can obviate; any hopes that I can encourage; any request that I can gratify? Speak, my Pamela; and, if I have power, but speak, and to purchase one smile, it shall be done!’

  ‘I cannot, sir,’ said I, ‘have any fears, any doubts, but that I shall never be able to deserve your goodness. I have no hopes, but that my future conduct may be agreeable to you, and my determined duty well accepted. Nor have I any request to make, but that you will forgive all my imperfections.’

  ‘I know your grateful heart,’ said he; ‘but remember, my dear, what the lawyers tell us - That marriage is the highest consideration which the law knows. And this solemnity, my sweet bride, having made you mine, and me your’s, let us talk of nothing henceforth but equality; although, if the riches of your mind, and your unblemished virtue, be set against my fortune, (which is but an accidental good, as I may call it, and all I have to boast of) I shall not think I can possibly deserve you, till, after your sweet example, my future life shall become nearly as blameless as your’s.’

  ‘O sir,’ said I, ‘what pleasure do you give me, in making me hope, that, instead of being in danger of being insnared by the high condition to which your goodness has exalted me, that I shall be confirmed by you in my duty; and that we may have a prospect of promoting each other’s happiness, till time shall be no more! But, sir, I will not, as you once cautioned me, be too serious. I will resolve, with these sweet encouragements, to be, in every thing, what you would have me be! ‘He kissed me very tenderly: and by this time coming to the house, we entered it together.

  Ten o’clock at Night

  As we sat at supper, he was generously kind to me, as well in his actions as expressions. He took notice, in the most delicate manner, of my endeavour to conquer my follies. ‘I told my dear girl once before,’ said he, ‘that I was more the admirer of her virtue, than even of her beauty. My behaviour to you, my pain for your concern, causeless as it is, must convince you that I am. Loveliest of women, behold in me lover, husband, protector, all in one; and let your affiance in me answer those tender characters.’

  After supper, of which, with all his sweet persuasions, I could hardly taste, he made me drink two glasses of champaign, and afterwards a glass of sack; which he kindly forced upon me by naming your healths: and, as the time of retiring drew on, he said, ‘My dearest girl, I fear you have had too much of my company for so many hours together; and would better recollect yourself, if your retired for half an hour to your closet.’

  I wished for this liberty; but knew not how to propose it. ‘You are all goodness, sir,’ said I; and boldly taking his hand, pressed it to my lips, with both mine. And he, saluting me very fervently, conducted his trembling Pamela to her chamber-door, and withdrew.

  I went to my closet; and the first thing I did, on my knees, again thanked God for the blessing of the day; and besought the Divine assistance in the conduct of my future life.

  FRIDAY Evening

  How does this excellent man indulge me in every thing! Every hour he makes me happier, than in the former, by his generous condescension.

  No light, frothy279 jests drop from his lips; no alarming railleries; no offensive expressions, nor insulting airs, reproach or wound the ears of your thrice happy daughter. In short, he says every thing that may encourage me to look up with pleasure to the generous author of my happiness.

  At breakfast, he strengthened my heart, by talking of you, my dear parents; a subject he knew I could talk of: and gave me assurances, that he would make you both happy. He said, he would have me send you a letter, to acquaint you with my nuptials; and, as he could make business that way, Thomas should carry it to-morrow. ‘Nor will I,’ said he, ‘my dear Pamela, desire to see your writings, because I told you I would not; for now I will, in every thing, religiously keep my word with my bride; and you may send all your papers to them from those they have, down to this happy moment; only let me beg they will return them when they have read them, as also those I have not seen; which, however, I desire not to see till then; but then shall take it for a favour to see.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure, as well as my duty, sir,’ said I, ‘to obey you in every thing. And I will write up to the conclusion of this day, that they may see how happy you have made me.’

  I know, my dear parents, that you will both join with me to bless God for his mercies and goodness to you, as well as to me: for he was pleased to ask me particularly after your circumstances, and said, he had taken notice that I had hinted, in some of my first letters, that you owed money; and he gave me fifty guineas, and bid me send them to you in my pacquet, to pay your debts as far as they would go (were his words) with his request that you should quit your present business, and give yourself, and my mother, a creditable appearance. He would find a better place of abode for you, he said, than that you had, when he returned to Bedfordshire. How shall I bear all these instances of his goodness?

  To me he gave no less than one hundred guineas more; and said, ‘I would have you, my dear, give Mrs Jewkes, when you go away from hence, what you think fit out of these, as from yourself.’ I desired his direction as to the sum. ‘Give her then,’ said he, ‘twenty guineas. Give Colbrand ten. The two coachmen five each; to the two maids at this house, five each; give Abraham five; give Thomas five; and give the gardeners, grooms, and helpers, twenty guineas among them. And when,’ added he, ‘I return with you to the other house, I will make you presents both of money and ornaments, that may be worthy of my love, and of your present station; for now, my Pamela, you are not to regard, as you once proposed, what other ladies will say, but to appear as my wife ought to do. I will shew the world, that I have as much regard for you as I could have had for a woman of the first quality and fortune, had I married such a one.’

  He saw I was at a loss for words. ‘I see, my dearest bride! my Pamela! your grateful confusion’; and kissing me, as I was recovering my speech, ‘Thus will I stop your mouth; you shall not so much as thank me; for when I have done ten times more than I have hitherto told you I will do, I shall but imperfectly express my love to you, and my concern for what I have made you suffer.’

  He then, thinking I seemed somewhat thoughtful, proposed a little turn in the chariot till dinner-time: and this was another sweet relief to me; for he diverted me with twenty agreeable relations of what observations he had made in his travels; and gave me the characters of the ladies and gentlemen in his other neighbourhood; telling me whose acquaintance he would have me most cul
tivate. And when I mentioned Lady Davers with apprehension, he said, ‘I love my sister, notwithstanding her violent spirit; and I know she loves me. I can allow a little for her pride, because I know what my own so lately was; and because she knows not my Pamela, and her excellencies, as I do. But you must not, my dear, forget what belongs to your character as my wife, nor meanly stoop to her; though I know you will chuse by complaisance to try to move her to a proper behaviour. But it shall be my part to see that you do not submit too much.

  ‘However,’ continued he, ‘as I would not publicly declare my marriage here, I hope she will not come near us till we are in Bedfordshire; and then, when she knows we are married, she will keep away, if she is not willing to be reconciled. But we will have no more of this subject, nor talk of any thing,’ added he, ‘that shall give you concern.’

  And then he changed the talk to more pleasing subjects.

  After dinner, he told me he had already written to his draper in town to provide him new liveries: and to his late mother’s mercer, to send him down patterns of the most fashionable silks for my choice. I told him, I was unable express my gratitude for his favours and generosity; and as he knew best what befitted his own rank and condition, I would wholly refer myself to his good pleasure: but, by all his repeated bounties to me, I could not but look forward with awe upon the condition to which he had exalted me; and now I feared I should hardly be able to act up to it in such a manner as should justify the choice he had made. But that I hoped I should have not only his generous allowance for my imperfections, which I assured him should not be wilful ones, but his kind instructions; and that as often as he observed any part of my conduct to be such as he could not entirely approve, he would let me know it; and I would think his reproofs of beginning faults the kindest and most affectionate things in the world; because they would keep me from committing greater; and be a means to continue to me the blessing of his good opinion.

  He answered me in the kindest manner; and assured me, that nothing should ever lie upon his mind, that he took amiss, without giving me an opportunity either of convincing him, or being convinced myself.

  He then asked me, when I should be willing to go to the Bedfordshire house? I said, whenever he pleased. ‘We will come down hither again before the winter,’ said he, ‘if you please, in order to cultivate the acquaintance you have begun with Mr Peters, Mrs Jones, and Sir Simon’s family; and if it please God to spare us to one another, in the-winter I will give you, as I promised, for two or three months, my company in London. And I think,’ added he, ‘if you have no objection, we will set out about Tuesday next week for the other house.’ ‘I can have no objection, sir,’ said I, ‘to any thing you propose; but how will you avoid Miss Darnford’s solicitation for an evening to dance?’ ‘We can make Monday evening to do for that,’ answered he, ‘if they won’t excuse us. But, if you please, I will invite Mrs Jones, Mr Peters and his family, and Sir Simon and his, to my little chapel on Sunday morning, and to stay to dinner with me; and then I will declare my marriage to them, because my dear life shall not leave this country with the least reason for any body to doubt that she is my wife.’ I most gratefully bowed as I sat. ‘And then,’ said he, ‘they will perhaps excuse us till we return into this country again, as to the ball. Is there any thing,’ added he, ‘that you have still to wish? If there be, speak your whole heart, my dear.’

  ‘Hitherto, sir,’ replied I, ‘you have prevented my wishes: and yet, since you so kindly command me to speak all my heart, I must own that I have one or two favours to beg; and if they can be granted, I shall be the happiest creature in the world.’

  ‘Say, my love, what they are. My wife (methinks I am grown fond of a name I once despised) may speak all her mind; and I will promise, that, so far as I chearfully can comply, I will.’

  ‘Then you will permit me, ever kind, ever generous, and ever dear sir,’ said I, ‘to become an humble petitioner, and that upon my knees, for the reinstating such of your servants as have incurred your displeasure by their kindness to me.’

  He raised me. ‘My Pamela,’ said he, ‘has too often been in this suppliant posture. Rise, my love, and let me know whom in particular you would reinstate’; kindly holding me in his arms, and pressing me to his bosom.

  ‘Mrs Jervis, sir,’ said I, ‘in the first place. She is a good woman; and the misfortunes she has had in the world must make your displeasure most heavy to her.’

  ‘Who next?’ ‘Mr Longman, sir,’ said I; ‘and I am sure, kind as they have been to me, yet would I not ask it, if I could not vouch for their integrity, and if I did not think it was the interest of their dear master to restore them.’

  ‘Have you any other person to intercede for, my Pamela?’ ‘Your good old butler, sir, who has been in your family before the happy day of your birth. Forgive me, sir, he is also a good man.’

  ‘I have only to say,’ answered he, ‘that had not these three joined together in an appeal to Lady Davers, which has given her the insolent handle she has taken to intermeddle in my affairs, I could easily have overlooked all the rest of their conduct; though they have taken great liberties with my character; for I would have every body admire and respect my Pamela. But at your request I will forgive all three. I will myself write to Mr Longman, to let him know what he owes to your mediation. Yet perhaps the estate he has acquired in my family, may have set him above the wish of returning to it. Do you, my dear, write to Mrs Jervis to go and take possession of her former charge; for now she will be more immediately your servant; and I know you love her so well, that you’ll go thither with the more pleasure to find her there. But don’t think,’ added he, ‘that all this compliance is to be for nothing.’ ‘Ah, sir,’ said I, ‘tell me but what I can do, poor as I am in power, but rich in will; and I will not hesitate one moment.’ ‘Why then,’ said he, ‘of your own accord, reward me for my chearful compliance with one sweet kiss.’ ‘How generous is this!’ said I, and instantly clasped my arms about his neck, and was not ashamed to kiss him once, and twice, and three times, once for every forgiven person.

  ‘Now, my dearest Pamela,’ said he, ‘what other thing have you to ask? Mr Williams is already taken care of; and, I hope, will be happy. Have you nothing to say for John Arnold ?’

  ‘You have seen, dear sir, the poor fellow’s penitence in my letters.’ ‘I have,’ replied he; ‘but that is his penitence for having served me, against you; and, I think, when he would have betrayed me afterwards, he deserves nothing from either of us.’

  ‘Let this, however, dear sir,’ said I, ‘be a day of jubilee. The less he deserves, poor fellow! the more will be your goodness. Permit me one word only: That as he was divided in his inclinations between his duty to you, and good wishes to me, and knew not how to distinguish between the one and the other, when he finds us so happily united, he will have no more puzzles in his duty; for he has not failed in any other part of it; but, I hope, will serve you faithfully for the future.’

  ‘Well, then, suppose, my dear, I put Mrs Jewkes into some inn, and give her John for a husband? What think you of this? Your gypsey’s prophecy will then be made out: she will have a husband younger than herself.’

  ‘I can freely forgive poor Mrs Jewkes, sir, and wish her happy: but permit me to ask, would not this look like a very heavy punishment to poor John? And as if you could not forgive him, when you are so generous to every body else ?’

  ‘O my Pamela,’ said he, smiling, ‘this, from a forgiving spirit, is very severe upon poor Jewkes: but I shall never have any more such trying services, to put him or the rest upon; and if you can forgive him, I think I may; and so John shall be at your disposal. And now let me know, what my Pamela has further to wish?’

  ‘Not one single wish more, my dearest sir, has your grateful Pamela. My heart is overwhelmed with your goodness!’

  I wept for joy. And he took me in his kind arms, and with my own handkerchief dried my cheeks, and kissed me. ‘You have left me nothing to pray for,’ continued I,
‘but that God will bless you with long life, health, and honour, and continue to me the blessing of your love; and I shall then be the happiest creature in the world.’

  ‘You cannot, my dearest creature,’ said he, clasping me to his bosom, ‘be so happy in me, as I am in you. How heartily do I now despise all my former licentious pursuits! What true joy flows from virtuous love! Joy which the narrow soul of the libertine cannot take in. I myself, whilst a libertine, knew nothing of it.

  ‘But,’ said he, ‘I expected that my Pamela had something to ask for herself: but since all her wishes are answered in the delight her generous heart takes in promoting the happiness of others, it shall be my study to make all care for herself unnecessary.’

  How blessed, my dear parents, is your daughter in a husband! How my heart rejoices at the word!

  I afterwards retired to my closet, and write you thus far. And having completed what I purpose for this pacquet, and put up the obliging present, what have I more to say, but that I hope soon to see you both, and receive your blessings on this happy occasion. And yet, have I nothing more to say? Yes; I have. It is to beg the continuance of your united prayers, that I may preserve an humble and thankful heart: that I may always look up with gratitude to the gracious First Cause of all this good: and that I may so behave to every creature, high and low, as not to be a discredit to my generous benefactor! And now I hasten to subscribe by my new name. But think not, my dear father, my dear mother, that pride leads me to glory in the change of it: your humbler name will be ever dear to me: but yet, for such an husband — What shall I say? since words are too faint to express my gratitude for being entitled, at the same time that I can call myself your ever-dutiful daughter, to style myself

  The happy, thrice happy,

  PAMELA B.

  SATURDAY Morning, the Third of my happy Nuptials