The countess being a little indisposed. Lady Davers and I took an
airing this morning in the chariot, and had a long discourse together.
Her ladyship was pleased to express great favour and tenderness
towards me; gave me much good advice, as to the care she would have me
take of myself; and told me, that her hopes, as well as her brother's,
all centred in my welfare; and that the way I was in made her love me
better and better.
She was pleased to tell me, how much she approved of the domestic
management; and to say, that she never saw such regularity and method
in any family in her life, where was the like number of servants:
every one, she said, knew their duty, and did it without speaking to,
in such silence, and with so much apparent cheerfulness and delight,
without the least hurry or confusion, that it was her surprise and
admiration: but kindly would have it that I took too much care upon
me. "Yet," said she, "I don't see but you are always fresh and lively,
and never seem tired or fatigued; and are always dressed and easy, so
that no company find you unprepared, or unfit to receive them, come
when they will, whether it be to breakfast or dinner."
I told her ladyship, I owed all this and most of the conduct for
which she was pleased to praise me, to her dear brother, who, at the
beginning of my happiness, gave me several cautions and instructions
for my behaviour; which had been the rule of my conduct ever since,
and I hoped ever would be:--"To say nothing," added I, "which yet
would be very unjust, of the assistance I received from worthy Mrs.
Jervis, who is an excellent manager."
_Good Creature_, _Sweet Pamela_, and _Charming Girl_, were her
common words; and she was pleased to attribute to me a graceful and
unaffected ease, and that I have a natural dignity in my person and
behaviour, which at once command love and reverence; so that, my dear
Miss Darnford, I am in danger of being proud. For you must believe,
that her ladyship's approbation gives me great pleasure; and the more,
as I was afraid, before she came, I should not have come on near
so well in her opinion. As the chariot passed along, she took great
notice of the respects paid me by people of different ranks, and of
the blessings bestowed upon me, by several, as we proceeded; and said,
she should fare well, and be rich in good wishes, for being in my
company.
"The good people who know us, _will_ do so, Madam," said I; "but I had
rather have their silent prayers than their audible ones; and I have
caused some of them to be told so. What I apprehend is, that you will
be more uneasy to-morrow, when at church you'll see a good many people
in the same way. Indeed my story, and your dear brother's tenderness
to me, are so much talked of, that many strangers are brought hither
to see us: 'tis the only thing," continued I (and so it is, Miss),
"that makes me desirous to go to London; for by the time we return,
the novelty, I hope, will cease." Then I mentioned some verses of Mr.
Cowley, which were laid under my cushion in our seat at church, two
Sundays ago, by some unknown hand; and how uneasy they have made me.
I will transcribe them, my dear, and give you the particulars of our
conversation on that occasion. The verses are these:
"Thou robb'st my days of bus'ness and delights,
Of sleep thou robb'st my nights.
Ah! lovely thief! what wilt thou do?
What! rob me of heaven too?
Thou ev'n my prayers dost steal from me,
And I, with wild idolatry,
Begin to GOD, and end them all to thee.
No, to what purpose should I speak?
No, wretched heart, swell till you break.
She cannot love me, if she would,
And, to say truth, 'twere pity that she should.
No, to the grave thy sorrow bear,
As silent as they will be there;
Since that lov'd hand this mortal wound does give,
So handsomely the thing contrive
That she may guiltless of it live;
So perish, that her killing thee
May a chance-medley, and no murder, be."
I had them in my pocket, and read them to my lady; who asked me, if
her brother had seen them? I told her, it was he that found them under
the cushion I used to sit upon; but did not shew them to me till I
came home; and that I was so vexed at them, that I could not go to
church in the afternoon.
"What should you be vexed at, my dear?" said she: "how could you help
it? My brother was not disturbed at them, was he?"--"No, indeed,"
replied I: "he chid _me_ for being so; and was pleased to make me a
fine compliment upon it; that he did not wonder that every body who
saw me loved me. But I said, this was all that wicked wit is good for,
to inspire such boldness in bad hearts, which might otherwise not dare
to set pen to paper to affront any one. But pray, Madam," added I,
"don't own I have told you of them, lest the least shadow of a thought
should arise, that I was prompted by some vile secret vanity, to tell
your ladyship of them, when I am sure, they have vexed me more than
enough. For is it not a sad thing, that the church should be profaned
by such actions, and such thoughts, as ought not to be brought into
it? Then, Madam, to have any wicked man _dare_ to think of one with
impure notions! It gives me the less opinion of myself, that I should
be so much as _thought of_ as the object of any wicked body's wishes.
I have called myself to account upon it, whether any levity in my
looks, my dress, my appearance, could embolden such an offensive
insolence. And I have thought upon this occasion better of Julius
Caesar's delicacy than I did, when I read of it; who, upon an attempt
made on his wife, to which, however, it does not appear she gave the
least encouragement, said to those who pleaded for her against the
divorce he was resolved upon, _that the wife of Caesar ought not to
be suspected_.--Indeed, Madam," continued I, "it would extremely shock
me, but to know that any wicked heart had conceived a design upon me;
upon _me_, give me leave to repeat, whose only glory and merit is,
that I have had the grace to withstand the greatest of trials and
temptations, from a gentleman more worthy to be beloved, both for
person and mind, than any man in England."
"Your observation, my dear, is truly delicate, and such as becomes
your mind and character. And I really think, if any lady in the world
is secure from vile attempts, it must be you; not only from your
story, so well known, and the love you bear to your man, and his merit
to you, but from the prudence, and natural _dignity_, I will say, of
your behaviour, which, though easy and cheerful, is what would strike
dead the hope of any presumptuous libertine the moment he sees you."
"How can I enough," returned I, and kissed her hand, "acknowledge your
ladyship's polite goodness in this compliment? But, my lady, you see
by the very instance I have mentioned, that a liberty is taken, which
I cannot think of without pain."
"I am pleased with your delicacy, my dear, as I said before. You can
never err, whilst thus watchful over your conduct: and I own you have
the more reason for it, as you have married a mere Julius Caesar, an
open-eyed rake" (that was her word), "who would, on the least surmise,
though ever so causeless on your part, have all his passions up
in arms, in fear of liberties being offered like those he has not
scrupled to take."--"O but, Madam," said I, "he has given me great
satisfaction in one point; for you must think I should not love him as
I ought, if I had not a concern for his future happiness, as well
as for his present; and that is, he has assured me, that in all the
liberties he has taken, he never attempted a married lady, but always
abhorred the thought of so great an evil."--"'Tis pity," said her
ladyship, "that a man who could conquer his passions _so far_, could
not subdue them entirely. This shews it was in his own power to do so;
and increases his crime: and what a wretch is he, who scrupling, under
pretence of conscience or honour, to attempt ladies _within_ the pale,
boggles not to ruin a poor creature _without_; although he knows, he
thereby, most probably, for ever deprived her of that protection, by
preventing her marriage, which even among such rakes as himself, is
deemed, he owns, inviolable; and so casts the poor creature headlong
into the jaws of perdition."
"Ah! Madam," replied I, "this was the very inference I made upon the
occasion."--"And what could he say?"--"He said, my inference was just;
but called me _pretty preacher_;--and once having cautioned me not
to be over-serious to him, so as to cast a gloom, as he said, over
our innocent enjoyments, I never dare to urge matters farther, when he
calls me by that name."
"Well," said my lady, "thou'rt an admirable girl! God's goodness was
great to our family, when it gave thee to it. No wonder," continued
she, "as my brother says, every body that sees you, and has heard your
character, loves you. And this is some excuse for the inconsiderate
folly even of this unknown transcriber."--"Ah! Madam," replied I, "but
is it not a sad thing, that people, if they must take upon them to
like one's behaviour in general, should have the _worst_, instead
of the _best_ thoughts upon it? If I were as good as I _ought_ to
be, and as some _think_ me, must they wish to make me bad for that
reason?"
Her ladyship was pleased to kiss me as we sat. "My charming Pamela, my
_more than sister,_."--(Did she say?)--Yes, she did say so! and
made my eyes overflow with joy to hear the sweet epithet. "How your
conversation charms me!--I charge you, when you get to town, let
me have your remarks on the diversions you will be carried to by
my brother. Now I know what to expect from _you_, and you know how
acceptable every thing from you will be _to me_, I promise great
pleasure, as well to myself as to my worthy friends, particularly to
Lady Betty, in your unrestrained free correspondence.--Indeed,
Pamela, I must bring you acquainted with Lady Betty: she is one of the
worthies of our sex, and has a fine understanding.--I'm sure you'll
like her.--But (for the world say it not to my brother, nor let Lady
Betty know I tell you so, if ever you should be acquainted) I had
carried the matter so far by my officious zeal to have my brother
married to so fine a lady, not doubting his joyful approbation, that
it was no small disappointment to _her_, when he married you: and this
is the best excuse I can make for my furious behaviour to you at the
Hall. For though I am naturally very hasty and passionate, yet then
I was almost mad.--Indeed my disappointment had given me so much
indignation both against you and him, that it is well I did not do
some violent thing by you. I believe you did feel the weight of my
hand: but what was that? 'Twas well I did not _kill you dead_."--These
were her ladyship's words--"For how could I think the wild libertine
capable of being engaged by such noble motives, or thee what thou
art!--So this will account to thee a little for my violence then."
"Your ladyship," said I, "all these things considered, had but too
much reason to be angry at your dear brother's proceedings, so well as
you always loved him, so high a concern as you always had to promote
his honour and interest, and so far as you had gone with Lady Betty."
"I tell thee, Pamela, that the old story of Eleanor and Rosamond run
in my head all the way of my journey, and I almost wished for a potion
to force down thy throat: when I found thy lewd paramour absent, (for
little did I think thou wast married to him, though I expected thou
wouldst try to persuade me to believe it) fearing that his intrigue
with thee would effectually frustrate my hopes as to Lady Betty and
him: 'Now,' thought I, 'all happens as I wish!--Now will I confront
this brazen girl!--Now will I try her innocence, as I please, by
offering to take her away with me; if she refuses, take that refusal
for a demonstration of her guilt; and then,' thought I, 'I will make
the creature provoke me, in the presence of my nephew and my woman,'
(and I hoped to have got that woman Jewkes to testify for me too), and
I cannot tell what I might have done, if thou hadst not escaped out of
the window, especially after telling me thou wast as much married as
I was, and hadst shewn me his tender letter to thee, which had a quite
different effect upon me than you expected. But if I had committed
any act of violence, what remorse should I have had on reflection, and
knowing what an excellence I had injured! Thank God thou didst escape
me!" And then her ladyship folded her arms about me, and kissed me.
This was a sad story, you'll say, my dear: and I wonder what her
ladyship's passion would have made her do! Surely she would not have
_killed me dead_! Surely she would not!--Let it not, however, Miss
Darnford--nor you, my dear parents--when you see it--go out of
your own hands, nor be read, for my Lady Davers's sake, to any body
else--No, not to your own mamma. It made me tremble a little, even at
this distance, to think what a sad thing passion is, when way is
given to its ungovernable tumults, and how it deforms and debases the
noblest minds.
We returned from this agreeable airing just in time to dress before
dinner, and then my lady and I went together into the countess's
apartment, where I received abundance of compliments from both. As
this brief conversation will give you some notion of that management
and economy for which they heaped upon me their kind praises, I will
recite to you what passed in it, and hope you will not think me too
vain; and the less, because what I underwent formerly from my lady's
indignation, half entitles me to be proud of her present kindness and
favour.
Lady Davers said, "Your ladyship must excuse us, that we have lost so
much of your company; but here, this sweet girl has so entertained me,
that I could have staid out with her all day; and several times did I
bid the coachman prolong his circuit."--"My good Lady Davers, Madam,"
said I, "has given me inexpressible pleasure, and has been all
condescension and favour, and made me as proud as proud can
be."--"You, my dear Mrs. B.," said she, "may have given great pleasure
to Lady Davers, for it cannot be otherwise--But I have no great notion
of her ladyship's condescension, as you call it--(pardon me, Madam,"
said she to her, smiling) "when she cannot raise her style above the
word _girl_, coming off from a tour you have made so delightful to
her."--"I protest to you, my Lady C.," replied her ladyship, with
great goodness, "that word, which once I used through pride, as you'll
call it, I now use for a very different reason. I begin to doubt,
whether to call her _sister_, is not more honour to myself than to
her; and to this hour am not quite convinc'd. When I am, I will call
her so with pleasure." I was quite overcome with this fine compliment,
but could not answer a word: and the countess said, "I could have
spared you longer, had not the time of day compelled your return; for
I have been very agreeably entertained, as well as you, although but
with the talk of your woman and mine. For here they have been giving
me such an account of Mrs. B.'s economy, and family management, as
has highly delighted me. I never knew the like; and in so young a lady
too.--We shall have strange reformations to make in our families, Lady
Davers, when we go home, were we to follow so good an example.--Why,
my dear Mrs. B.," continued her ladyship, "you out-do all your
neighbours. And indeed I am glad I live so far from you:--for were I
to try to imitate you, it would still be _but_ imitation, and you'd
have the honour of it."--"Yet you hear, and you see by yesterday's
conversation," said Lady Davers, "how much her best neighbours,
of both sexes, admire her: they all yield to her the palm,
unenvying."--"Then, my good ladies," said I, "it is a sign I have most
excellent neighbours, full of generosity, and willing to encourage a
young person in doing right things: so it makes, considering what I
was, more for their honour than my own. For what censures should not
such a one as I deserve, who have not been educated to fill up my time
like ladies of condition, were I not to employ myself as I do? I,
who have so little other merit, and who brought no fortune at
all."--"Come, come, Pamela, none of your self-denying ordinances,"
that was Lady Davers's word; "you must know something of your own
excellence: if you do not, I'll tell it you, because there is no fear
you will be proud or vain upon it. I don't see, then, that there
is the lady in yours, or any neighbourhood, that behaves with more
decorum, or better keeps up the part of a lady, than you do. How you
manage it, I can't tell; but you do as much by a look, and a pleasant
one too, that's the rarity! as I do by high words, and passionate
exclamations: I have often nothing but blunder upon blunder, as if the
wretches were in a confederacy to try my patience."--"Perhaps,"
said I, "the awe they have of your ladyship, because of your high
qualities, makes them commit blunders; for I myself was always more
afraid of appearing before your ladyship, when you have visited
your honoured mother, than of any body else, and have been the more
sensibly awkward through that very awful respect."--"Psha, psha,
Pamela, that is not it: 'tis all in yourself. I used to think my
mamma, and my brother too, had as awkward servants as ever I saw any
where--except Mrs. Jervis--Well enough for a bachelor, indeed!--But,
here!--thou hast not parted with one servant--Hast thou?"--"No,
Madam."--"How!" said the countess; "what excellence is here!--All of
them, pardon me, Mrs. B., your fellow-servants, as one may say, and
all of them so respectful, so watchful of your eye; and you, at the
same time, so gentle to them, so easy, so cheerful."
Don't you think me, my dear, insufferably vain? But 'tis what they
were pleased to say. 'Twas their goodness to me, and shewed how much
they can excel in generous politeness. So I will proceed. "Why
this," continued the countess, "must be _born_ dignity--_born_
discretion--Education cannot give it:--if it could, why should not
_we_ have it?"
The ladies said many more kind things of me then; and after dinner
they mentioned all over again, with additions, before my best friend,
who was kindly delighted with the encomiums given me by two ladies of
such distinguishing judgment in all other cases. They told him, how
much they admired my family management: then they would have it that
my genius was universal, for the employments and accomplishments of
my sex, whether they considered it as employed in penmanship, in
needlework, in paying or receiving visits, in music, and I can't tell
how many other qualifications, which they were pleased to attribute
to me, over and above the family management: saying, that I had
an understanding which comprehended every thing, and an eye that
penetrated into the very bottom of matters in a moment, and never
was at a loss for the _should be_, the _why_ or _wherefore_, and the
_how_--these were their comprehensive words; that I did every
thing with celerity, clearing all as I went, and left nothing, they
observed, to come over again, that could be dispatched at once: by
which means, they said, every hand was clear to undertake a new
work, as well as my own head to direct it; and there was no hurry nor
confusion: but every coming hour was fresh and ready, and unincumbered
(so they said), for its new employment; and to this they attributed
that ease and pleasure with which every thing was performed, and that
I could _do_ and _cause_ to be done, so much business without hurry
either to myself or servants.
Judge how pleasing this was to my best beloved, who found, in their
kind approbation, such a justification of his own conduct as could not
fail of being pleasing to him, especially as Lady Davers was one of
the kind praisers. Lord Davers was so highly delighted, that he rose
once, begging his brother's excuse, to salute me, and stood over
my chair, with a pleasure in his looks that cannot be expressed,
now-and-then lifting up his hands, and his good-natured eye glistening
with joy, which a pier-glass gave me the opportunity of seeing, as
sometimes I stole a bashful glance towards it, not knowing how or
which way to look. Even Mr. H. seemed to be touched very sensibly; and
recollecting his behaviour to me at the Hall, he once cried out,
"What a sad whelp was _I_, to behave as I formerly did, to so much
excellence!--Not, Mr. B., that I was any thing uncivil neither;--but
in unworthy sneers, and nonsense.--You know me well enough.--You
called me, _tinsell'd boy_, though, Madam, don't you remember that?
and said, _twenty or thirty years hence, when I was at age, you'd give
me an answer._ Egad! I shall never forget your looks, nor your words
neither!--they were severe speeches, were they not, Sir?"--"O you see,
Mr. H.," replied my dear Mr. B., "Pamela is not quite perfect. We must
not provoke her; for she'll call us both so, perhaps; for I wear a
laced coat, sometimes, as well as you."
"Nay, I can't be angry," said he. "I deserved it richly, that I
did, had it been worse."--"Thy silly tongue," said my lady, "runs
on without fear or wit. What's past is past."--"Why, Madam, I was
plaguily wrong; and I said nothing of any body but _myself_:--and
have been ready to hang myself since, as often as I have thought of my
nonsense."--"My nephew," said my lord, "must bring in hanging, or
the gallows in every speech he makes, or it will not be he." Mr. B.,
smiling, said, with severity enough in his meaning, as I saw by the
turn of his countenance, "Mr. H. knows that his birth and family
entitle him more to the _block_, than the rope, or he would not make
so free with the latter."--"Good! very good, by Jupiter!" said Mr.
H. laughing. The countess smiled. Lady Davers shook her head at her
brother, and said to her nephew, "Thou'rt a good-natured foolish
fellow, that thou art."--"For what, Madam? Why the word _foolish_,
aunt? What have I said now?"
"Nothing to any purpose, indeed," said she; "when thou dost, I'll
write it down."--"Then, Madam," said he, "have your pen and ink always
about you, when I am present; and put that down to begin with!" This
made every one laugh. "What a happy thing is it," thought I, "that
good nature generally accompanies this character; else, how would some
people be supportable?"
But here I'll break off. 'Tis time, you'll say. But you know to whom
I write, as well as to yourself, and they'll be pleased with all
my silly scribble. So excuse one part for that, and another for
friendship's sake, and then I shall be wholly excusable to you.
Now the trifler again resumes her pen. I am in some pain, Miss, for
to-morrow, because of the rules we observe of late in our family on
Sundays, and of going through a crowd to church; which will afford new
scenes to our noble visitors, either for censure or otherwise: but I
will sooner be censured for doing what I think my duty, than for the
want of it; and so will omit nothing that we have been accustomed to
do.
I hope I shall not be thought ridiculous, or as one who aims at works
of supererogation, for what I think is very short of my duty. Some
order, surely, becomes the heads of families; and besides, it would
be discrediting one's own practice, if one did not appear at one time
what one does at another. For that which is a reason for discontinuing
a practice for some company, would seem to be a reason for laying it
aside for ever, especially in a family visiting and visited as ours.
And I remember well a hint given me by my dearest friend once on
another subject, that it is in every one's power to prescribe rules to
himself, after a while, and persons to see what is one's way, and that
one is not to be put out of it. But my only doubt is, that to ladies,
who have not been accustomed perhaps to the _necessary_ strictness, I
should make myself censurable, as if I aimed at too much perfection:
for, however one's duty is one's duty, and ought not to be dispensed
with; yet, when a person, who uses to be remiss, sees so hard a task
before them, and so many great points to get over, all to be no more
than tolerably regular, it is rather apt to frighten and discourage,
than to allure; and one must proceed, as I have read soldiers do, in
a difficult siege, inch by inch, and be more studious to entrench
and fortify themselves, as they go on gaining upon the enemy, than
by rushing all at once upon an attack of the place, be repulsed, and
perhaps obliged with great loss to abandon a hopeful enterprise. And
permit me to add, that young as I am, I have often observed, that
over-great strictnesses all at once enjoined and insisted upon, are
not fit for a beginning reformation, but for stronger Christians only;
and therefore generally do more harm than good.
But shall I not be too grave, my dear friend?--Excuse me; for this is
Saturday night: and as it was a very good method which the ingenious
authors of the Spectator took, generally to treat their more serious
subjects on this day; so I think one should, when one can, consider it
as the preparative eve to a still better.