Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
helpless, and even worthless young body. This plot is laid too deep,
and has been too long hatching, to be baffled, I fear. But then I put
my trust in God, who I knew was able to do every thing for me, when all
other possible means should fail: and in him I was resolved to confide.
You may see—(Yet, oh! that kills me; for I know not whether ever you
can see what I now write or no—Else you will see)—what sort of woman
that 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.
She fell a laughing very confidently, and said, That’s prettily said, I
vow! Then thou hadst rather be kissed by the other sex? ‘I fackins, I
commend thee for that!
I was sadly teased with her impertinence, and bold way; but no wonder;
she was innkeeper’s housekeeper, before she came to my master; and
those sort of creatures don’t want confidence, you know: and indeed she
made nothing to talk boldly on twenty occasions; and said two or three
times, when she saw the tears every now and then, as we rid, 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 was
not safe with good Mrs. Jervis, and where every body loved me, what a
dreadful prospect have I now before me, in the hands of a woman that
seems to delight in filthiness!
O dear sirs! what shall I do! What shall I do!—Surely, I shall never be
equal to all these things!
About eight at night, we entered the court-yard of this handsome,
large, old, and lonely mansion, that looks made for solitude and
mischief, as I thought, by its appearance, with all its brown nodding
horrors of lofty elms and pines about it: 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 sick at entering it, partly from fatigue, and partly from
dejection of spirits: and Mrs. Jewkes got me 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 never saw an execution but once, and
then the hangman asked the poor creature’s pardon, and wiped his mouth,
as you do, and pleaded his duty, and then calmly tucked up the
criminal. But I am no criminal, as you all know: And if I could have
thought it my duty to obey a wicked master in his unlawful command, I
had saved you all the merit of this vile service.
I am sorry, said he, you take it so: but every body don’t think alike.
Well, said I, you have done your part, Mr. Robert, towards my ruin,
very faithfully; and will have cause to be sorry, may be, at the long
run, when you shall see the mischief that comes of it.—Your eyes were
open, and you knew I was to be carried to my father’s, and that I was
barbarously tricked and betrayed; and I can only, once more, thank you
for your part of it. God forgive you!
So he went away a little sad. What have you said to Robin, madam? said
Mrs. Jewkes (who came in as he went out:) the poor fellow’s ready to
cry. 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. I’ll assure you, madam, said she, I should be as ready to cry
as he, if I should do you any harm. It is not in his power to help it
now, said I; but your part is to come, and you may choose whether
you’ll contribute to my ruin or not.—Why, 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; and now am to be
something, and now nothing, just as that thinks fit to sport with me:
And let you and me talk upon a foot together; for I am a servant
inferior to you, and so much the more, as I am turned out of place.
Ay, ay, says she, I understand something of the matter; you have so
great power over my master, that you may soon be mistress of us all;
and so I would oblige you, if I could. And I must and will call you
madam; for I am instructed to shew you all respect, I’ll assure you.
Who instructed you so to do? said I. Who! my master, to be sure, said
she. Why, said I, how can that be? You have not seen him lately. No,
that’s true, said she; but I have been expecting you here some time; (O
the deep-laid wickedness! thought I:) and, besides, I have a letter of
instructions by Robin; but, may be, I should not have said so much. If
you would shew them to me, said I, I should be able to judge how far I
could, or could not, expect favour from you, consistent with your duty
to our master. I beg your pardon, fair mistress, for that, said she, I
am sufficiently instructed; and you may depend upon it, I will observe
my orders; and, so far as they will let me, so far will I oblige you;
and there’s an end of it.
Well, said I, you will not, I hope, do an unlawful or wicked thing, for
any master in the world. Look ye, said she, he is my master; and if he
bids me do any thing that I can do, I think I ought to do it; and let
him, who has his power to command me, look to the lawfulness of it.
Why, said I, suppose he should bid you cut my throat, Would you do it?
There’s no danger of that, said she; but to be sure I would not; for
then I should be hanged! for that would be murder. Well, said I, and
suppose he should resolve to ensnare a poor young creature, and ruin
her, would you assist him in that? For to rob a person of her virtue is
worse than cutting her throat.
Why now, says she, how strangely you talk! Are not the two sexes made
for one another? And is it not natural for a gentleman to love a pretty
woman? And suppose he can obtain his desires, is that so bad as cutting
her throat? And then the wretch fell a laughing, and talked most
impertinently, and shewed me, that I had nothing to expect from her
virtue or conscience: and this gave me great mortification; for I was
in hopes of working upon her by degrees.
So we ended our discourse here, and I bid her shew me where I must
lie.—Why, said she, lie where you list, madam; I can tell you, I must
lie with you for the present. For the present! said I, and torture then
wrung my heart!—But is it in your instructions, that you must lie with
me? Yes, indeed, said she.—I am sorry for it, said I. Why, said she, I
am wholesome, and cleanly too, I’ll assure you. Yes, said I, I don’t
doubt that; but I love to lie by myself. How so? said she; Was not Mrs.
Jervis your bed-fellow at t’other house?
Well, said I, quite sick of her, and my condition; you must do as you
are instructed, I think. I can’t help myself, and am a most miserable
creature. She repeated her insufferable nonsense. Mighty miserable,
indeed, to be so well beloved by one of the finest gentlemen in
England!
I am now come down in my writing to this present SATURDAY, and a deal I
have written.
My wicked bed-fellow has very punctual orders, it seems; for she locks
me and herself in, and ties the two keys (for there is a double door to
the room) about her wrist, when she goes to bed. She talks of the house
having been attempted to be broken open two or three times; whether to
fright me, I can’t tell; but it makes me fearful; though not so much as
I should be, if I had not other and greater fears.
I slept but little last night, and got up, and pretended to sit by the
window, which looks into the spacious gardens; but I was writing all
the time, from break of day, to her getting up, and after, when she was
absent.
At breakfast she presented the two maids to me, the cook and
house-maid, poor awkward souls, that I can see no hopes of, they seem
so devoted to her and ignorance. Yet I am resolved, if possible, to
find some way to escape, before this wicked master comes.
There are, besides, of servants, the coachman, Robert, a groom, a
helper, a footman; all but Robert, (and he is accessary to my ruin,)
strange creatures, that promise nothing; and all likewise devoted to
this woman. The gardener looks like a good honest man; but he is kept
at a distance, and seems reserved.
I wondered I saw not Mr. Williams the clergyman, but would not ask
after him, apprehending it might give some jealousy; but when I had
beheld the rest, he was the only one I had hopes of; for I thought his
cloth would set him above assisting in my ruin.—But in the afternoon he
came; for it seems he has a little Latin school in the neighbouring
village, which he attends; and this brings him in a little matter,
additional to my master’s favour, till something better falls, of which
he has hopes.
He is a sensible sober young gentleman; and when I saw him I confirmed
myself in my hopes of him; for he seemed to take great notice of my
distress and grief; (for I could not hide it;) though he appeared
fearful of Mrs. Jewkes, who watched all our motions and words.
He has an apartment in the house; but is mostly at a lodging in the
town, for a conveniency of his little school; only on Saturday
afternoon and Sundays: and he preaches sometimes for the minister of
the village, which is about three miles off.
I hope to go to church with him to-morrow: Sure it is not in her
instructions to deny me! He can’t have thought of every thing! And
something may strike out for me there.
I have asked her, for a feint, (because she shan’t think I am so well
provided,) to indulge me with pen and ink, though I have been using my
own so freely when her absence would let me; for I begged to be left to
myself as much as possible. She says she will let me have it; but then
I must promise not to send any writing out of the house, without her
seeing it. I said, it was only to divert my grief when I was by myself,
as I desired to be; for I loved writing as well as reading; but I had
nobody to send to, she knew well enough.
No, not at present, may be, said she; but I am told you are a great
writer; and it is in my instructions to see all you write: So, look you
here, said she, I will let you have a pen and ink, and two sheets of
paper: for this employment will keep you out of worse thoughts: but I
must see them always when I ask, written or not written. That’s very
hard, said I; but may I not have to myself the closet in the room where
we lie, with the key to lock up my things? I believe I may consent to
that, said she; and I will set it in order for you, and leave the key
in the door. And there is a spinnet too, said she; if it be in tune,
you may play to divert you now and then; for I know my old lady learnt
you: And below is my master’s library: you may take out what books you
will.
And, indeed, these and my writing will be all my amusement: for I have
no work given me to do; and the spinnet, if in tune, will not find my
mind, I am sure, in tune to play upon it. But I went directly and
picked out some books from the library, with which I filled a shelf in
the closet she gave me possession of; and from these I hope to receive
improvement, as well as amusement. But no sooner was her back turned,