Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
oppressions, my distresses, my fears; and so I will send this with it;
(for Mrs. Jewkes gives me leave to send a letter to my father, which
looks well;) and I am glad I can conclude, after all my sufferings,
with my hopes, to be soon with you, which I know will give you comfort;
and so I rest, begging the continuance of your prayers and blessings,
Your ever dutiful DAUGHTER.
MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,
I have so much time upon my hands that I must write on, to employ
myself. The Sunday evening, where I left off, Mrs. Jewkes asked me, If
I chose to be by myself; I said, Yes, with all my heart, if she
pleased. Well, said she, after to-night you shall. I asked her for more
paper; and she gave me a bottle of ink, eight sheets of paper, which
she said was all her store, (for now she would get me to write for her
to our master, if she had occasion,) and six pens, with a piece of
sealing wax. This looks mighty well.
She pressed me, when she came to bed, very much, to give encouragement
to Mr. Williams, and said many things in his behalf; and blamed my
shyness to him. I told her, I was resolved to give no encouragement,
till I had talked to my father and mother. She said, he fancied I
thought of somebody else, or I could never be so insensible. I assured
her, as I could do very safely, that there was not a man on earth I
wished to have: and as to Mr. Williams, he might do better by far: and
I had proposed so much happiness in living with my poor father and
mother, that I could not think of any scheme of life with pleasure,
till I had tried that. I asked her for my money; and she said, it was
above in her strong box, but that I should have it to-morrow. All these
things look well, as I said.
Mr. Williams would go home this night, though late, because he would
despatch a messenger to you with a letter he had proposed from himself,
and my packet. But pray don’t encourage him, as I said; for he is much
too heady and precipitate as to this matter, in my way of thinking;
though, to be sure, he is a very good man, and I am much obliged to
him.
Monday morning.
Alas-a-day! we have bad news from poor Mr. Williams. He has had a sad
mischance; fallen among rogues in his way home last night: but by good
chance has saved my papers. This is the account he gives of it to Mrs.
Jewkes:
‘GOOD MRS. JEWKES,
‘I have had a sore misfortune in going from you. When I had got as near
the town as the dam, and was going to cross the wooden bridge, two
fellows got hold of me, and swore bitterly they would kill me, if I did
not give them what I had. They rummaged my pockets, and took from me my
snuff-box, my seal-ring, and half a guinea, and some silver, and
halfpence; also my handkerchief, and two or three letters I had in my
pockets. By good fortune, the letter Mrs. Pamela gave me was in my
bosom, and so that escaped but they bruised my head and face, and
cursing me for having no more money, tipped me into the dam, crying, be
there, parson, till to-morrow! My shins and knees were bruised much in
the fall against one of the stumps; and I had like to have been
suffocated in water and mud. To be sure, I shan’t be able to stir out
this day or two: for I am a frightful spectacle! My hat and wig I was
forced to leave behind me, and go home, a mile and a half, without; but
they were found next morning, and brought me, with my snuff-box, which
the rogues must have dropped. My cassock is sadly torn, as is my band.
To be sure, I was much frightened, for a robbery in these parts has not
been known many years. Diligent search is making after the rogues. My
humble respects to good Mrs. Pamela: if she pities my misfortunes, I
shall be the sooner well, and fit to wait on her and you. This did not
hinder me in writing a letter, though with great pain, as I do this,
(To be sure this good man can keep no secret!) and sending it away by a
man and horse, this morning. I am, good Mrs. Jewkes,
‘Your most obliged humble servant.’
‘God be praised it is no worse! And I find I have got no cold, though
miserably wet from top to toe. My fright, I believe, prevented me from
catching cold: for I was not rightly myself for some hours, and know
not how I got home. I will write a letter of thanks this night, if I am
able, to my kind patron, for his inestimable goodness to me. I wish I
was enabled to say all I hope, with regard to the better part of his
bounty to me, incomparable Mrs. Pamela.’
The wicked brute fell a laughing, when she had read this letter, till
her fat sides shook. Said she, I can but think how the poor parson
looked, after parting with his pretty mistress in such high spirits,
when he found himself at the bottom of the dam! And what a figure he
must cut in his tattered band and cassock, and without a hat and wig,
when he got home. I warrant, added she, he was in a sweet pickle!—I
said, I thought it was very barbarous to laugh at such a misfortune;
but she replied, As he was safe, she laughed; otherwise she would have
been sorry: and she was glad to see me so concerned for him—It looked
promising, she said.
I heeded not her reflections; but as I have been used to causes for
mistrusts, I cannot help saying, that I don’t like this thing: And
their taking his letters most alarms me.—How happy it was they missed
my packet! I knew not what to think of it!—But why should I let every
accident break my peace? Yet it will do so, while I stay here.
Mrs. Jewkes is mightily at me, to go with her in the chariot, to visit
Mr. Williams. She is so officious to bring on the affair between us,
that, being a cunning, artful woman, I know not what to make of it: I
have refused her absolutely; urging, that except I intended to
encourage his suit, I ought not to do it. And she is gone without me.
I have strange temptations to get away in her absence, for all these
fine appearances. ’Tis sad to have nobody to advise with!—I know not
what to do. But, alas for me! I have no money, if I should, to buy any
body’s civilities, or to pay for necessaries or lodgings. But I’ll go
into the garden, and resolve afterwards——
I have been in the garden, and to the back-door: and there I stood, my
heart up at my mouth. I could not see I was watched; so this looks
well. But if any thing should go bad afterwards, I should never forgive
myself, for not taking this opportunity. Well, I will go down again,
and see if all is clear, and how it looks out at the back-door in the
pasture.
To be sure, there is witchcraft in this house; and I believe Lucifer is
bribed, as well as all about me, and is got into the shape of that
nasty grim bull to watch me!—For I have been again, and ventured to
open the door, and went out about a bow-shot into the pasture; but
there stood that horrid bull, staring me full in the face, with fiery
saucer eyes, as I thought. So I got in again, for fear he should come
at me. Nobody saw me, however.—Do you think there are such things as
witches and spirits? If there be, I believe, in my heart, Mrs. Jewkes
has got this bull of her side. But yet, what could I do without money,
or a friend’—O this wicked woman! to trick me so! Every thing, man,
woman, and beast, is in a plot against your poor Pamela, I think!—Then
I know not one step of the way, nor how far to any house or cottage;
and whether I could gain protection, if I got to a house: And now the
robbers are abroad too, I may run into as great danger as I want to
escape; nay, greater much, if these promising appearances hold: And
sure my master cannot be so black as that they should not!—What can I
do?—I have a good mind to try for it once more; but then I may be
pursued and taken: and it will be worse for me; and this wicked woman
will beat me, and take my shoes away, and lock me up.
But, after all, if my master should mean well, he can’t be angry at my
fears, if I should escape; and nobody can blame me; and I can more
easily be induced, with you, when all my apprehensions are over, to
consider his proposal of Mr. Williams, than I could here; and he
pretends, as you have read in his letter, he will leave me to my
choice: Why then should I be afraid? I will go down again, I think! But
yet my heart misgives me, because of the difficulties before me, in
escaping; and being so poor and so friendless!—O good God! the
preserver of the innocent! direct me what to do!
Well, I have just now a sort of strange persuasion upon me, that I
ought to try to get way, and leave the issue to Providence. So, once
more—I’ll see, at least, if this bull be still there.
Alack-a-day! what a fate is this! I have not the courage to go, neither
can I think to stay. But I must resolve. The gardener was in sight last
time; so made me come up again. But I’ll contrive to send him out of
the way, if I can:—For if I never should have such another opportunity,
I could not forgive myself. Once more I’ll venture. God direct my
footsteps, and make smooth my path and my way to safety!
Well, here I am, come back again! frightened, like a fool, out of all
my purposes! O how terrible every thing appears to me! I had got twice
as far again, as I was before, out of the back-door: and I looked and
saw the bull, as I thought, between me and the door; and another bull
coming towards me the other way: Well, thought I, here is double
witchcraft, to be sure! Here is the spirit of my master in one bull,
and Mrs. Jewkes’s in the other. And now I am gone, to be sure! O help!
cried I, like a fool, and ran back to the door, as swift as if I flew.
When I had got the door in my hand, I ventured to look back, to see if
these supposed bulls were coming; and I saw they were only two poor
cows, a grazing in distant places, that my fears had made all this rout
about. But as every thing is so frightful to me, I find I am not fit to
think of my escape: for I shall be as much frightened at the first
strange man that I meet with: and I am persuaded that fear brings one
into more dangers, than the caution, that goes along with it, delivers
one from.
I then locked the door, and put the key in my pocket, and was in a sad
quandary; but I was soon determined; for the maid Nan came in sight,
and asked, if any thing was the matter, that I was so often up and down
stairs? God forgive me, (but I had a sad lie at my tongue’s end,) said
I; Though Mrs. Jewkes is sometimes a little hard upon me, yet I know
not where I am without her: I go up, and I come down to walk about in
the garden; and, not having her, know scarcely what to do with myself.
Ay, said the ideot, she is main good company, madam, no wonder you miss
her.
So here I am again, and here likely to be; for I have no courage to
help myself any where else. O why are poor foolish maidens tried with
such dangers, when they have such weak minds to grapple with them!—I
will, since it is so, hope the best: but yet I cannot but observe how
grievously every thing makes against me: for here are the robbers;
though I fell not into their hands myself, yet they gave me as much
terror, and had as great an effect upon my fears, as if I had: And here
is the bull; it has as effectually frightened me, as if I had been hurt
by it instead of the cook-maid; and so these joined together, as I may
say, to make a very dastard of me. But my folly was the worst of all,
because that deprived me of my money: for had I had that, I believe I
should have ventured both the bull and the robbers.
Monday afternoon.
So, Mrs. Jewkes is returned from her visit: Well, said she, I would
have you set your heart at rest; for Mr. Williams will do very well
again. He is not half so bad as he fancied. O these scholars, said she,
they have not the hearts of mice! He has only a few scratches on his
face; which, said she, I suppose he got by grappling among the gravel