Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded
by repairing to her closet, and begging that gracious assistance, which
has never yet failed her: And so shall I, my dear, who, as you once but
too justly observed, have been too much indulged by my good mother,
have an example from you, as well as a pleasure in you, which will
never be palled.
One thing, continued he, I have frequently observed at the house of
many a gentleman, That when we have unexpectedly visited, or broken in
upon the family order laid down by the lady; and especially if any of
us have lain under the suspicion of having occasionally seduced our
married companion into bad hours, or given indifferent examples, the
poor gentleman has been oddly affected at our coming; though the good
breeding of the lady has made her just keep up appearances. He has
looked so conscious; has been so afraid, as it were, to disoblige; has
made so many excuses for some of us, before we had been accused, as
have always shewn me how unwelcome we have been; and how much he is
obliged to compound with his lady for a tolerable reception of us; and,
perhaps, she too, in proportion to the honest man’s concern to court
her smiles, has been more reserved, stiff, and formal; and has behaved
with an indifference and slight that has often made me wish myself out
of her house; for too plainly have I seen that it was not his.
This, my dear, you will judge, by my description, has afforded me
subject for animadversion upon the married life; for a man may not
(though, in the main, he is willing to flatter himself that he is
master of his house, and will assert his prerogative upon great
occasions, when it is strongly invaded) be always willing to contend;
and such women as those I have described, are always ready to take the
field, and are worse enemies than the old Parthians, who annoy most
when they seem to retreat; and never fail to return to the charge
again, and carry on the offensive war, till they have tired out
resistance, and made the husband willing, like a vanquished enemy, to
compound for small matters, in order to preserve something. At least
the poor man does not care to let his friends see his case; and so will
not provoke a fire to break out, that he sees (and so do his friends
too) the meek lady has much ado to smother; and which, very possibly,
burns with a most comfortable ardour, after we are gone.
You smile, my Pamela, said he, at this whimsical picture; and, I am
sure, I never shall have reason to include you in these disagreeable
outlines; but yet I will say, that I expect from you, whoever comes to
my house, that you accustom yourself to one even, uniform complaisance:
That no frown take place on your brow: That however ill or well
provided we may be for their reception, you shew no flutter or
discomposure: That whoever you may have in your company at the time,
you signify not, by the least reserved look, that the stranger is come
upon you unseasonably, or at a time you wished he had not. But be
facetious, kind, obliging to all; and, if to one more than another, to
such as have the least reason to expect it from you, or who are most
inferior at the table; for thus will you, my Pamela, cheer the doubting
mind, quiet the uneasy heart, and diffuse ease, pleasure, and
tranquillity, around my board.
And be sure, my dear, continued he, let no little accidents ruffle your
temper. I shall never forget once that I was at Lady Arthur’s; and a
footman happened to stumble, and let fall a fine china dish, and broke
it all to pieces: It was grievous to see the uneasiness it gave the
poor lady: And she was so sincere in it, that she suffered it to spread
all over the company; and it was a pretty large one too; and not a
person in it but turned either her consoler, or fell into stories of
the like misfortunes; and so we all became, for the rest of the
evening, nothing but blundering footmen, and careless servants, or were
turned into broken jars, plates, glasses, tea-cups, and such like
brittle substances. And it affected me so much, that, when I came home,
I went to bed, and dreamt, that Robin, with the handle of his whip,
broke the fore glass of my chariot; and I was so solicitous, methought,
to keep the good lady in countenance for her anger, that I broke his
head in revenge, and stabbed one of my coach-horses. And all the
comfort I had when it was done, methought, was, that I had not exposed
myself before company; and there were no sufferers, but guilty Robin,
and one innocent coach-horse.
I was exceedingly diverted with the facetious hints, and the pleasant
manner in which he gave them; and I promised to improve by the
excellent lessons contained in them.
I then went up and dressed myself, as like a bride as I could, in my
best clothes; and, on inquiry, hearing my dearest master was gone to
walk in the garden, I went to find him out. He was reading in the
little alcove; and I said, Sir, am I licensed to intrude upon you?—No,
my dear, said he, because you cannot intrude. I am so wholly yours,
that, wherever I am, you have not only a right to join me, but you do
me a very acceptable favour at the same time.
I have, sir, said I, obeyed your first kind injunction, as to dressing
myself before dinner; but may be you are busy, sir. He put up the
papers he was reading, and said, I can have no business or pleasure of
equal value to your company, my dear. What were you going to say?—Only,
sir, to know if you have any more kind injunctions to give me?—I could
hear you talk a whole day together.—You are very obliging, Pamela, said
he; but you are so perfectly what I wish, that I might have spared
those I gave you; but I was willing you should have a taste of my
freedom with you, to put you upon the like with me: For I am confident
there can be no friendship lasting, without freedom, and without
communicating to one another even the little caprices, if my Pamela can
have any such, which may occasion uneasiness to either.
Now, my dear, said he, be so kind as to find some fault with me, and
tell me what you would wish me to do, to appear more agreeable to you.
O sir, said I, and I could have kissed him, but for shame, (To be sure
I shall grow a sad fond hussy,) I have not one single thing to wish
for; no, not one!—He saluted me very kindly, and said, He should be
sorry if I had, and forbore to speak it. Do you think, my dear sir,
said I, that your Pamela has no conscience? Do you think, that because
you so kindly oblige her, and delight in obliging her, that she must
rack her invention for trials of your goodness, and knows not when
she’s happy?—O my dearest sir, added I, less than one half of the
favours you have so generously conferred upon me, would have exceeded
my utmost wishes!
My dear angel, said he, and kissed me again, I shall be troublesome to
you with my kisses, if you continue thus sweetly obliging in your
actions and expressions. O sir, said I, I have been thinking, as I was
dressing myself, what excellent lessons you teach me!
When you commanded me, at your table to cheer the doubting mind and
comfort the uneasy heart, and to behave most kindly to those who have
least reason to expect it, and are most inferior; how sweetly, in every
instance that could possibly occur, have you done this yourself by your
poor, unworthy Pamela, till you have diffused, in your own dear words,
ease, pleasure, and tranquillity, around my glad heart!
Then again, sir, when you bid me not be disturbed by little accidents,
or by strangers coming in upon me unexpectedly, how noble an instance
did you give me of this, when, on our happy wedding-day, the coming of
Sir Charles Hargrave, and the other two gentlemen, (for which you were
quite unprovided, and which hindered our happiness of dining together
on that chosen day,) did not so disturb you, but that you entertained
the gentlemen pleasantly, and parted with them civilly and kindly! What
charming instances are these, I have been recollecting with pleasure,
of your pursuing the doctrine you deliver.
My dear, said he, these observations are very kind in you, and much to
my advantage: But if I do not always (for I fear these were too much
accidents) so well pursue the doctrines I lay down, my Pamela must not
expect that my imperfections will be a plea for her nonobservance of my
lessons, as you call them; for, I doubt I shall never be half so
perfect as you; and so I cannot permit you to recede in your goodness,
though I may find myself unable to advance as I ought in my duty.
I hope, sir, said I, by God’s grace, I never shall. I believe it, said
he; but I only mention this, knowing my own defects, lest my future
lessons should not be so well warranted by my practice, as in the
instances you have kindly recollected.
He was pleased to take notice of my dress; and spanning my waist with
his hands, said, What a sweet shape is here! It would make one regret
to lose it; and yet, my beloved Pamela, I shall think nothing but that
loss wanting, to complete my happiness.—I put my bold hand before his
mouth, and said, Hush, hush! O fie, sir!—The freest thing you have ever
yet said, since I have been yours!—He kissed my hand, and said, Such an
innocent wish, my dearest, may be permitted me, because it is the end
of the institution.—But say, Would such a case be unwelcome to my
Pamela?—I will say, sir, said I, and hid my blushing face on his bosom,
that your wishes, in every thing, shall be mine; but, pray, sir, say no
more. He kindly saluted me, and thanked me, and changed the subject.—I
was not too free, I hope.
Thus we talked, till we heard the coaches; and then he said, Stay here,
in the garden, my dear, and I’ll bring the company to you. And when he
was gone, I passed by the back-door, kneeled down against it, and
blessed God for not permitting my then so much desired escape. I went
to the pond, and kneeled down on the mossy bank, and again blessed God
there, for his mercy in my escape from myself, my then worst enemy,
though I thought I had none but enemies, and no friend near me. And so
I ought to do in almost every step of this garden, and every room in
this house!—And I was bending my steps to the dear little chapel, to
make my acknowledgment there; but I saw the company coming towards me.
Miss Darnford said, So, Miss Andrews, how do you do now? O, you look so
easy, so sweetly, so pleased, that I know you’ll let me dance at your
wedding, for I shall long to be there! Lady Jones was pleased to say I
looked like an angel: And Mrs. Peters said, I improved upon them every
time they saw me. Lady Darnford was also pleased to make me a fine
compliment, and said, I looked freer and easier every time she saw me.
Dear heart! I wish, thought I, you would spare these compliments; for I
shall have some joke, I doubt, passed on me by-and-by, that will make
me suffer for all these fine things.
Mr. Peters said, softly, God bless you, dear daughter!—But not so much
as my wife knows it.—Sir Simon came in last, and took me by the hand,
and said, Mr. B——, by your leave; and kissed my hand five or six times,
as if he was mad; and held it with both his, and made a very free jest,
by way of compliment, in his way. Well, I think a young rake is hardly
tolerable; but an old rake, and an old beau, are two very sad
things!—And all this before daughters, women-grown!—I whispered my
dearest, a little after, and said, I fear I shall suffer much from Sir
Simon’s rude jokes, by-and-by, when you reveal the matter.—’Tis his
way, my dear, said he; you must now grow above these things.—Miss Nanny
Darnford said to me, with a sort of half grave, ironical air,—Well,
Miss Andrews, if I may judge by your easy deportment now, to what it
was when I saw you last, I hope you will let my sister, if you won’t
me, see the happy knot tied! For she is quite wild about it.—I