up at peep of day, and put up every thing over night; and so I received
his blessing, and his prayers, and his kind promises of procuring the
same from you, my dear mother; and went up to my closet with a heavy
heart, and yet a half-pleased one, if I may so say; for that, as he
must go, he was going to the best of wives, and with the best of
tidings. But I begged he would not work so hard as he had done; for I
was sure my master would not have given him twenty guineas for clothes,
if he had not designed to do something else for him; and that he should
be the less concerned at receiving benefits, from my good master,
because he, who had so many persons to employ in his large possessions,
could make him serviceable, to a degree equivalent, without hurting any
body else.
He promised me fair; and, pray, dear mother, see he performs. I hope my
master will not see this: for I will not send it you, at present, till
I can send you the best of news; and the rather, as my dear father can
supply the greatest part of what I have written, since the papers he
carries you, by his own observation. So good night, my dear mother: And
God send my father a safe journey, and a happy meeting to you both!
Monday.
Mr. Colbrand being returned, my master came up to me to my closet, and
brought me the license. O how my heart fluttered at the sight of it!
Now, Pamela, said he, tell me, if you can oblige me with the day. Your
word is all that’s wanting. I made bold to kiss his dear hand; and,
though unable to look up, said—I know not what to say, sir, to all your
goodness: I would not, for any consideration, that you should believe
me capable of receiving negligently an honour, that all the duty of a
long life, were it to be lent me, will not be sufficient to enable me
to be grateful for. I ought to resign myself, in every thing I may or
can, implicitly to your will. But—But what? said he, with a kind
impatience.—Why, sir, said I, when from last Thursday you mentioned
four days, I had reason to think that term your choice; and my heart is
so wholly yours, that I am afraid of nothing, but that I may be
forwarder than you wish. Impossible, my dear creature! said he, and
folded me in his arms: Impossible! If this be all, it shall be set
about this moment, and this happy day shall make you mine!—I’ll send
away instantly, said the dear gentleman; and was going.
I said, No, pray, sir, pray, sir, hear me!—Indeed it cannot be
to-day!—Cannot! said he.—No, indeed, sir! said I—And was ready to sink
to see his generous impatience. Why flattered you then my fond heart,
replied he, with the hope that it might?—Sir, said I, I will tell you
what I had thought, if you’ll vouchsafe me your attention. Do then,
said he.
I have, sir, proceeded I, a great desire, that, whenever the day is, it
may be on a Thursday: On a Thursday my dear father and mother were
married; and, though poor, they are a very happy pair.—On a Thursday
your poor Pamela was born. On a Thursday my dear good lady took me from
my parents into her protection. On a Thursday, sir, you caused me to be
carried away to this place, to which I now, by God’s goodness, and your
favour, owe so amazingly all my present prospects; and on a Thursday it
was, you named to me, that fourteen days from that you would confirm my
happiness. Now, sir, if you please to indulge my superstitious folly,
you will greatly oblige me. I was sorry, sir, for this reason, when you
bid me not defer till the last day of the fourteen, that Thursday in
next week was that last day.
This, Pamela, is a little superstitious, I must needs say; and I think
you should begin now to make another day in the week a happy one; as
for example; on a Monday, may you say, my father and mother concluded
to be married on the Thursday following. On a Monday, so many years
ago, my mother was preparing all her matters to be brought to bed on
the Thursday following. On a Monday, several weeks ago, it was that you
had but two days more to stay, till you was carried away on Thursday.
On a Monday, I myself, said he, well remember, it was that I wrote you
the letter, that prevailed on you so kindly to return to me; and on the
same day you did return to my house here; which I hope, my girl, will
be as propitious an era as any you have named: And now, lastly, will
you say, which will crown the work; And, on a Monday I was
married.—Come, come, my dear, added he, Thursday has reigned long
enough o’conscience; let us now set Monday in its place, or at least on
an equality with it, since you see it has a very good title, and as we
now stand in the week before us, claims priority: And then, I hope, we
shall make Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, as happy
days as Monday and Thursday; and so, by God’s blessing, move round, as
the days move, in a delightful circle, till we are at a loss what day
to prefer to the rest.
O how charmingly was this said!—And how sweetly kind!
Indeed, sir, said I, you rally my folly very agreeably; but don’t let a
little matter stand in the way, when you are so generously obliging in
a greater: Indeed I like Thursday best, if I may choose.
Well, then, said he, if you can say you have a better reason than this,
I will oblige you; else I’ll send away for the parson this moment.
And so, I protest, he was going!—Dear sirs, how I trembled! Stay, stay,
sir, said I: we have a great deal to say first; I have a deal of silly
prate to trouble you with!—Well, say then, in a minute, replied he, the
most material: for all we have to say may be talked of while the parson
is coming.—O, but indeed, and indeed, said I, it cannot be
to-day!—Well, then, shall it be to-morrow? said he.—Why, sir, if it
must not be on a Thursday, you have given so many pleasant distinctions
for a Monday, that let it then be next Monday.—What! a week still? said
he. Sir, answered I, if you please; for that will be, as you enjoined,
within the second seven days. Why, girl, said he, ’twill be seven
months till next Monday. Let it, said he, if not to-morrow, be on
Wednesday; I protest I will stay no longer.
Then, sir, returned I, please to defer it, however, for one day more,
and it will be my beloved Thursday! If I consent to defer it till then,
may I hope, my Pamela, said he, that next Thursday shall certainly be
the happy day?—Yes, sir, said I and I am sure I looked very foolishly!
And yet, my dear father and mother, why should I, with such a fine
gentleman? And whom I so dearly love? And so much to my honour too? But
there is something greatly awful upon my mind, in the solemn
circumstance, and a change of condition never to be recalled, though
all the prospects are so desirable. And I can but wonder at the
thoughtless precipitancy with which most young folks run into this
important change of life!
So now, my dear parents, have I been brought to fix so near a day as
next Thursday; and this is Monday. O dear, it makes one out of breath
almost to think of it! This, though, was a great cut off; a whole week
out of ten days. I hope I am not too forward! I’m sure, if it obliges
my dear master, I am justified; for he deserves of me all things in my
poor power.
After this, he rode out on horseback, attended by Abraham, and did not
return till night. How by degrees things steal upon one! I thought even
this small absence tedious; and the more, as we expected him home to
dinner.—I wish I may not be too fond, and make him indifferent: But
yet, my dear father and mother, you were always fond of one another,
and never indifferent, let the world run as it would.
When he returned, he said, He had had a pleasant ride, and was led out
to a greater distance than he intended. At supper he told me, that he
had a great mind Mr. Williams should marry us; because, he said, it
would shew a thorough reconciliation on his part. But, said he, most
generously, I am apprehensive, from what passed between you, that the
poor man will take it hardly, and as a sort of insult, which I am not
capable of. What says my girl?—Do you think he would? I hope not, sir,
said I: As to what he may think, I can’t answer; but as to any reason
for his thoughts, I can: For indeed, sir, said I, you have been already
so generous, that he cannot, I think, mistake your goodness.
He then spoke with some resentment of Lady Davers’s behaviour, and I
asked, if any thing new had occurred? Yes, said he; I have had a letter
delivered me from her impertinent husband, professedly at her
instigation, that amounted to little less than a piece of insolent
bravery, on supposing I was about to marry you. I was so provoked,
added he, that after I had read it, I tore it in a hundred pieces, and
scattered them in the air, and bid the man who brought it let his
master know what I had done with his letter; and so would not permit
him to speak to me, as he would fain have done,—I think the fellow
talked somewhat of his lady coming hither; but she shall not set her
foot within my doors; and I suppose this treatment will hinder her.
I was much concerned at this: And he said, Had I a hundred sisters,
Pamela, their opposition should have no weight with me: and I did not
intend you should know it; but you can’t but expect a little difficulty
from the pride of my sister, who have suffered so much from that of her
brother; and we are too nearly allied in mind, as well as blood, I
find.—But this is not her business: And if she would have made it so,
she should have done it with more decency. Little occasion had she to
boast of her birth, that knows not what belongs to good manners.
I said, I am very sorry, sir, to be the unhappy occasion of a
misunderstanding between so good a brother and so worthy a sister.
Don’t say so, Pamela, because this is an unavoidable consequence of the
happy prospect before us. Only bear it well yourself, because she is my
sister; and leave it to me to make her sensible of her own rashness.
If, sir, said I, the most lowly behaviour, and humble deportment, and
in every thing shewing a dutiful regard to good Lady Davers, will have
any weight with her ladyship, assure yourself of all in my power to
mollify her. No, Pamela, returned he; don’t imagine, when you are my
wife, I will suffer you to do any thing unworthy of that character. I
know the duty of a husband, and will protect your gentleness to the
utmost, as much as if you were a princess by descent.
You are inexpressibly good, sir, said I; but I am far from taking a
gentle disposition to shew a meanness of spirit: And this is a trial I
ought to expect; and well I may bear it, that have so many benefits to
set against it, which all spring from the same cause.
Well, said he, all the matter shall be this: We will talk of our
marriage as a thing to be done next week. I find I have spies upon me
wherever I go, and whatever I do: But now, I am on so laudable a
pursuit, that I value them not, nor those who employ them. I have
already ordered my servants to have no conference with any body for ten
or twelve days to come. And Mrs. Jewkes tells me every one names
Thursday come se’nnight for our nuptials. So I will get Mr. Peters, who
wants to see my little chapel, to assist Mr. Williams, under the notion
of breakfasting with me next Thursday morning, since you won’t have it
sooner; and there will nobody else be wanting; and I will beg of Mr.
Peters to keep it private, even from his own family, for a few days.
Has my girl any objection?
O, sir, answered I, you are so generous in all your ways, I can have no
objections!—But I hope Lady Davers and you will not proceed to
irreconcilable lengths; and when her ladyship comes to see you, and to
tarry with you, two or three weeks, as she used to do, I will keep
close up, so as not to disgust her with the sight of me.
Well, Pamela, said he, we will talk of that afterwards. You must do
then as I shall think fit: And I shall be able to judge what both you
and I ought to do. But what still aggravates the matter is, that she
should instigate the titled ape her husband to write to me, after she
had so little succeeded herself. I wish I had kept his letter, that I
might have shewn you how a man, that generally acts like a fool, can
take upon him to write like a lord. But I suppose it is of my sister’s
penning, and he, poor man! is the humble copier.
Tuesday.
Mr. Thomas is returned from you, my dear father, with the good news of
your health, and your proceeding in your journey to my dear mother,
where I hope to hear soon you are arrived. My master has just now been
making me play upon the spinnet, and sing to it; and was pleased to
commend me for both. But he does so for every thing I do, so partial
does his goodness make him to me.
One o’clock.
We are just returned from an airing in the chariot; and I have been
delighted with his conversation upon English authors, poets
particularly. He entertained me also with a description of some of the
curiosities he had seen in Italy and France, when he made what the
polite world call the grand tour. He said he wanted to be at his other
seat, for he knew not well how to employ himself here, having not
proposed to stay half the time: And when I get there, Pamela, said he,
you will hardly be troubled with so much of my company, after we have
settled; for I have a great many things to adjust: And I must go to
London; for I have accounts that have run on longer than ordinary with
my banker there. And I don’t know, added he, but the ensuing winter I
may give you a little taste of the diversions of the town for a month
or so. I said, His will and pleasure should determine mine; and I never
would, as near as I could, have a desire after those, or any other
entertainments that were not in his own choice.
He was pleased to say, I make no doubt but that I shall be very happy
in you; and hope you will be so in me: For, said he, I have no very
enormous vices to gratify; though I pretend not to the greatest purity,
neither, my girl. Sir, said I, if you can account to your own mind, I
shall always be easy in whatever you do. But our greatest happiness
here, sir, continued I, is of very short duration; and this life, at
the longest, is a poor transitory one; and I hope we shall be so happy
as to be enabled to look forward, with comfort, to another, where our
pleasures will be everlasting.
You say well, Pamela; and I shall, by degrees, be more habituated to
this way of thinking, as I more and more converse with you; but, at
present, you must not be over serious with me all at once: though I
charge you never forbear to mingle your sweet divinity in our
conversation, whenever it can be brought in a propos, and with such a
cheerfulness of temper, as shall not throw a gloomy cloud over our
innocent enjoyments.
I was abashed at this, and silent, fearing I had offended: But he said,
If you attend rightly to what I said, I need not tell you again,
Pamela, not to be discouraged from suggesting to me, on every proper
occasion, the pious impulses of your own amiable mind. Sir, said I, you
will be always indulgent, I make no doubt, to my imperfections, so long
as I mean well.
My master made me dine with him, and would eat nothing but what I
helped him to; and my heart is, every hour, more and more enlarged with
his goodness and condescension. But still, what ails me, I wonder! A
strange sort of weight hangs upon my mind, as Thursday draws on, which
makes me often sigh involuntarily, and damps, at times, the pleasures
of my delightful prospects!—I hope this is not ominous; but only the
foolish weakness of an over-thoughtful mind, on an occasion the most
solemn and important of one’s life, next to the last scene, which shuts
up all.
I could be very serious: But I will commit all my ways to that blessed
Providence, which hitherto has so wonderfully conducted me through real
evils to this hopeful situation.
I only fear, and surely I have great reason, that I shall be too
unworthy to hold the affections of so dear a gentleman!—God teach me
humility, and to know my own demerit! And this will be, next to his
grace, my surest guard, in the state of life to which, though most
unworthy, I am going to be exalted. And don’t cease your prayers for
me, my dear parents; for, perhaps, this new condition may be subject to
still worse hazards than those I have escaped; as would be the case,
were conceitedness, vanity, and pride, to take hold of my frail heart;
and if I was, for my sins, to be left to my own conduct, a frail bark
in a tempestuous ocean, without ballast, or other pilot than my own
inconsiderate will. But my master said, on another occasion, That those
who doubted most, always erred least; and I hope I shall always doubt
my own strength, my own worthiness.
I will not trouble you with twenty sweet agreeable things that passed
in conversation with my excellent benefactor; nor with the civilities
of M. Colbrand, Mrs. Jewkes, and all the servants, who seem to be
highly pleased with me, and with my conduct to them: And as my master,
hitherto, finds no fault that I go too low, nor they that I carry it
too high, I hope I shall continue to have every body’s good-will: But
yet will I not seek to gain any one’s by little meannesses or
debasements! but aim at an uniform and regular conduct, willing to
conceal involuntary errors, as I would have my own forgiven; and not
too industrious to discover real ones, or to hide such, if any such
should appear, as might encourage bad hearts, or unclean hands, in
material cases, where my master should receive damage, or where the
morals of the transgressors should appear wilfully and habitually
corrupt. In short, I will endeavour, as much as I can, that good
servants shall find in me a kind encourager; indifferent ones be made
better, by inspiring them with a laudable emulation; and bad ones, if
not too bad in nature, and quite irreclaimable, reformed by kindness,
expostulation, and even proper menaces, if necessary; but most by a
good example: All this if God pleases.
Wednesday.
Now, my dear parents, I have but this one day between me and the most
solemn rite that can be performed. My heart cannot yet shake off this
heavy weight. Sure I am ungrateful to the divine goodness, and the
favour of the best of benefactors!—Yet I hope I am not!—For, at times,
my mind is all exultation, with the prospect of what good to-morrow’s
happy solemnity may possibly, by the leave of my generous master, put
it in my power to do. O how shall I find words to express, as I ought,
my thankfulness, for all the mercies before me!
Wednesday evening.
My dear master is all love and tenderness. He sees my weakness, and
generously pities and comforts me! I begged to be excused supper; but
he brought me down himself from my closet, and placed me by him,
bidding Abraham not wait. I could not eat, and yet I tried, for fear he
should be angry. He kindly forbore to hint any thing of the dreadful,
yet delightful to-morrow! and put, now and then, a little bit on my
plate, and guided it to my mouth. I was concerned to receive his
goodness with so ill a grace. Well, said he, if you won’t eat with me,
drink at least with me: I drank two glasses by his over-persuasions,
and said, I am really ashamed of myself. Why, indeed, said he, my dear
girl, I am not a very dreadful enemy, I hope! I cannot bear any thing
that is the least concerning to you. Oh, sir! said I, all is owing to
the sense I have of my own unworthiness!—To be sure, it cannot be any
thing else.
He rung for the things to be taken away; and then reached a chair, and
sat down by me, and put his kind arms about me, and said the most
generous and affecting things that ever dropt from the honey-flowing
mouth of love. All I have not time to repeat: some I will. And oh!
indulge your foolish daughter, who troubles you with her weak nonsense;
because what she has to say, is so affecting to her; and because, if
she went to bed, instead of scribbling, she could not sleep.
This sweet confusion and thoughtfulness in my beloved Pamela, said the
kind man, on the near approach of our happy union, when I hope all
doubts are cleared up, and nothing of dishonour is apprehended, shew me
most abundantly, what a wretch I was to attempt such purity with a
worse intention—No wonder, that one so virtuous should find herself
deserted of life itself on a violence so dreadful to her honour, and
seek a refuge in the shadow of death.—But now, my dearest Pamela, that
you have seen a purity on my side, as nearly imitating your own, as our
sex can shew to yours; and since I have, all the day long, suppressed
even the least intimation of the coming days, that I might not alarm
your tender mind; why all this concern, why all this affecting, yet
sweet confusion? You have a generous friend, my dear girl, in me; a
protector now, not a violator of your innocence: Why then, once more I
ask, this strange perplexity, this sweet confusion?
O sir, said I, and hid my face on his arm; expect not reason from a
foolish creature: You should have still indulged me in my closet: I am
ready to beat myself for this ungrateful return to your goodness. But I
know not what!—I am, to be sure, a silly creature! O had you but
suffered me to stay by myself above, I should have made myself ashamed
of so culpable a behaviour!—But goodness added to goodness every
moment, and the sense of my own unworthiness, quite overcome my
spirits.
Now, said the generous man, will I, though reluctantly, make a proposal
to my sweet girl.—If I have been too pressing for the day: If another
day will still be more obliging: If you have fears you will not then
have; you shall say but the word, and I’ll submit. Yes, my Pamela; for
though I have, these three days past, thought every tedious hour a day,
till Thursday comes, if you earnestly desire it, I will postpone it.
Say, my dear girl, freely say; but accept not my proposal, without
great reason, which yet I will not ask for.
Sir, said I, I can expect nothing but superlative goodness, I have been
so long used to it from you. This is a most generous instance of it;
but I fear—yes, I fear it will be too much the same thing, some days
hence, when the happy, yet, fool that I am! dreaded time, shall be
equally near!
Kind, lovely charmer! said he, now do I see you are to be trusted with
power, from the generous use you make of it!—Not one offensive word or
look, from me, shall wound your nicest thoughts; but pray try to subdue
this over-scrupulousness, and unseasonable timidity. I persuade myself
you will if you can.
Indeed, sir, I will, said I; for I am quite ashamed of myself, with all
these lovely views before me!—The honours you do me, the kindness you
shew me!—I cannot forgive myself! For, oh! if I know the least of this
idle foolish heart of mine, it has not a misgiving thought of your
goodness; and I should abhor it, if it were capable of the least
affectation.—But, dear good sir, leave me a little to myself, and I
will take myself to a severer task than your goodness will let you do
and I will present my heart before you, a worthier offering to you,
than at present its wayward follies will let it seem to be.—But one
thing is, one has no kind friend of one’s own sex, to communicate one’s
foolish thoughts to, and to be strengthened by their comfortings! But I
am left to myself; and, oh! what a weak silly thing I am!
He kindly withdrew, to give me time to recollect myself; and in about
half an hour returned: and then, that he might not begin at once upon
the subject, and say, at the same time, something agreeable to me,
said, Your father and mother have had a great deal of talk by this time
about you, Pamela. O, sir, returned I, your goodness has made them
quite happy! But I can’t help being concerned about Lady Davers.
He said, I am vexed I did not hear the footman out; because it runs in
my head he talked somewhat about her coming hither. She will meet with
but an indifferent reception from me, unless she comes resolved to
behave better than she writes.
Pray, sir, said I, be pleased to bear with my good lady, for two
reasons. What are they? said he. Why, first, sir, answered I, because
she is your sister; and, to be sure, may very well think, what all the
world will, that you have much undervalued yourself in making me happy.
And next, because, if her ladyship finds you out of temper with her, it
will still aggravate her more against me; and every time that any warm
words you may have between you, come into her mind, she will disdain me
more.
Don’t concern yourself about it, said he; for we have more proud ladies
than she in our other neighbourhood, who, perhaps, have still less
reason to be punctilious about their descent, and yet will form
themselves upon her example, and say, Why, his own sister will not
forgive him, nor visit him! And so, if I can subdue her spirit, which
is more than her husband ever could, or indeed any body else, it is a
great point gained: And, if she gives me reason, I’ll try for it, I
assure you.