hundred pounds a year, which Longman shall constantly pay you, at fifty
pounds a quarter, for your own use, and of which I expect no account;
to commence from the day you enter into my other house: I mean, said
he, that the first fifty pounds shall then be due; because you shall
have something to begin with. And, added the dear generous man, if this
be pleasing to you, let it, since you say you want words, be signified
by such a sweet kiss as you gave me yesterday. I hesitated not a moment
to comply with these obliging terms, and threw my arms about his dear
neck, though in the chariot, and blessed his goodness to me. But,
indeed, sir, said I, I cannot bear this generous treatment! He was
pleased to say, Don’t be uneasy, my dear, about these trifles: God has
blessed me with a very good estate, and all of it in a prosperous
condition, and generally well tenanted. I lay up money every year, and
have, besides, large sums in government and other securities; so that
you will find, what I have hitherto promised, is very short of that
proportion of my substance, which, as my dearest wife, you have a right
to.
In this sweet manner did we pass our time till evening, when the
chariot brought us home; and then our supper succeeded in the same
agreeable manner. And thus, in a rapturous circle, the time moves on;
every hour bringing with it something more delightful than the
past!—Sure nobody was ever so blest as I!
Sunday, the fourth day of my happiness.
Not going to chapel this morning, the reason of which I told you, I
bestowed the time, from the hour of my beloved’s rising, to breakfast,
in prayer and thanksgiving, in my closet; and now I begin to be quite
easy, cheerful, and free in my spirits; and the rather, as I find
myself encouraged by the tranquillity, and pleasing vivacity, in the
temper and behaviour of my beloved, who thereby shews he does not
repent of his goodness to me.
I attended him to breakfast with great pleasure and freedom, and he
seemed quite pleased with me, and said, Now does my dearest begin to
look upon me with an air of serenity and satisfaction: it shall be
always, added he, my delight to give you occasion for this sweet
becoming aspect of confidence and pleasure in me.—My heart, dear sir,
said I, is quite easy, and has lost all its foolish tumults, which,
combating with my gratitude, might give an unacceptable appearance to
my behaviour: but now your goodness, sir, has enabled it to get the
better of its uneasy apprehensions, and my heart is all of one piece,
and devoted to you, and grateful tranquillity. And could I be so happy
as to see you and my good Lady Davers reconciled, I have nothing in
this world to wish for more, but the continuance of your favour. He
said, I wish this reconciliation, my dearest, as well as you: and I do
assure you, more for your sake than my own; and if she would behave
tolerably, I would make the terms easier to her, for that reason.
He said, I will lay down one rule for you, my Pamela, to observe in
your dress; and I will tell you every thing I like or dislike, as it
occurs to me: and I would have you do the same, on your part; that
nothing may be upon either of our minds that may occasion the least
reservedness.
I have often observed, in married folks, that, in a little while, the
lady grows careless in her dress; which, to me, looks as if she would
take no pains to secure the affection she had gained; and shews a
slight to her husband, that she had not to her lover. Now, you must
know, this has always given me great offence; and I should not forgive
it, even in my Pamela: though she would have this excuse for herself,
that thousands could not make, That she looks lovely in every thing.
So, my dear, I shall expect of you always to be dressed by dinner-time,
except something extraordinary happens; and this, whether you are to go
abroad, or stay at home. For this, my love, will continue to you that
sweet ease in your dress and behaviour, which you are so happy a
mistress of; and whomsoever I bring home with me to my table, you’ll be
in readiness to receive them; and will not want to make those foolish
apologies to unexpected visitors, that carry with them a reflection on
the conduct of those who make them; and, besides, will convince me,
that you think yourself obliged to appear as graceful to your husband,
as you would to persons less familiar to your sight.
This, dear sir, said I, is a most obliging injunction; and I most
heartily thank you for it, and will always take care to obey it.—Why,
my dear, said he, you may better do this than half your sex; because
they too generally act in such a manner, as if they seemed to think it
the privilege of birth and fortune, to turn day into night, and night
into day, and are seldom stirring till it is time to sit down to
dinner; and so all the good old family rules are reversed: For they
breakfast, when they should dine; dine, when they should sup; and sup,
when they should go to bed; and, by the help of dear quadrille,
sometimes go to bed when they should rise.—In all things but these, my
dear, continued he, I expect you to be a lady. And my good mother was
one of this oldfashioned cut, and, in all other respects, as worthy a
lady as any in the kingdom. And so you have not been used to the new
way, and may the easier practise the other.
Dear sir, said I, pray give me more of your sweet injunctions. Why
then, continued he, I shall, in the usual course, and generally, if not
hindered by company, like to go to bed with my dearest by eleven; and,
if I don’t, shan’t hinder you. I ordinarily now rise by six in summer.
I will allow you to be half an hour after me, or so.
Then you’ll have some time you may call your own, till you give me your
company to breakfast; which may be always so, as that we may have done
at a little after nine.
Then will you have several hours again at your disposal, till two
o’clock, when I shall like to sit down at table.
You will then have several useful hours more to employ yourself in, as
you shall best like; and I would generally go to supper by eight; and
when we are resolved to stick to these oldfashioned rules, as near as
we can, we shall have our visitors conform to them too, and expect them
from us, and suit themselves accordingly: For I have always observed,
that it is in every one’s power to prescribe rules to himself. It is
only standing a few ridiculous jests at first, and that too from such,
generally, as are not the most worthy to be minded; and, after a while,
they will say, It signifies nothing to ask him: he will have his own
way. There is no putting him out of his bias. He is a regular piece of
clock-work, they will joke, and all that: And why, my dear, should we
not be so? For man is as frail a piece of machinery as any clock-work
whatever; and, by irregularity, is as subject to be disordered.
Then, my dear, continued the charming man, when they see they are
received, at my own times, with an open countenance and cheerful heart;
when they see plenty and variety at my board, and meet a kind and
hearty welcome from us both; they will not offer to break in upon my
conditions, nor grudge me my regular hours: And as most of these people
have nothing to do, except to rise in a morning, they may as well come
to breakfast with us at half an hour after eight, in summer, as at ten
or eleven; to dinner at two, as at four, five, or six; and to supper at
eight, as at ten or eleven. And then our servants, too, will know,
generally, the times of their business, and the hours of their leisure
or recess; and we, as well as they, shall reap the benefits of this
regularity. And who knows, my dear, but we may revive the good
oldfashion in our neighbourhood, by this means?—At least it will be
doing our parts towards it; and answering the good lesson I learned at
school, Every one mend one. And the worst that will happen will be,
that when some of my brother rakes, such as those who broke in upon us,
so unwelcomely, last Thursday, are got out of the way, if that can ever
be, and begin to consider who they shall go to dine with in their
rambles, they will only say, We must not go to him, for his dinner-time
is over; and so they’ll reserve me for another time, when they happen
to suit it better; or, perhaps, they will take a supper and a bed with
me instead of it.
Now, my dearest, continued the kind man, you see here are more of my
injunctions, as you call them; and though I will not be so set, as to
quarrel, if they are not always exactly complied with; yet, as I know
you won’t think them unreasonable, I shall be glad they may, as often
as they can; and you will give your orders accordingly to your Mrs.
Jervis, who is a good woman, and will take pleasure in obeying you.
O dearest, dear sir, said I, have you nothing more to honour me with?
You oblige and improve me at the same time.—What a happy lot is mine!
Why, let me see, my dearest, said he—But I think of no more at present:
For it would be needless to say how much I value you for your natural
sweetness of temper, and that open cheerfulness of countenance, which
adorns you, when nothing has given my fairest apprehensions for her
virtue: A sweetness, and a cheerfulness, that prepossesses in your
favour, at first sight, the mind of every one that beholds you.—I need
not, I hope, say, that I would have you diligently preserve this sweet
appearance: Let no thwarting accident, no cross fortune, (for we must
not expect to be exempt from such, happy as we now are in each other!)
deprive this sweet face of this its principal grace: And when any thing
unpleasing happens, in a quarter of an hour, at farthest, begin to
mistrust yourself, and apply to your glass; and if you see a gloom
arising, or arisen, banish it instantly; smooth your dear countenance;
resume your former composure; and then, my dearest, whose heart must
always be seen in her face, and cannot be a hypocrite, will find this a
means to smooth her passions also: And if the occasion be too strong
for so sudden a conquest, she will know how to do it more effectually,
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
courtesied, and only said, You are all very good to me, ladies.—Mr.
Peters’s niece said, Well, Miss Andrews, I hope, before we part, we
shall be told the happy day. My good master heard her, and said, You
shall, you shall, madam.—That’s pure, said Miss Darnford.
He took me aside, and said softly, Shall I lead them to the alcove, and
tell them there, or stay till we go in to dinner?—Neither, sir, I
think, said I, I fear I shan’t stand it.—Nay, said he, they must know
it; I would not have invited them else.—Why then, sir, said I, let it
alone till they are going away.—Then, replied he, you must pull off
your ring. No, no, sir, said I, that I must not.—Well, said he, do you
tell Miss Darnford of it yourself.—Indeed, sir, answered I, I cannot.
Mrs. Jewkes came officiously to ask my master, just then, if she should
bring a glass of rhenish and sugar before dinner, for the gentlemen and
ladies: And he said, That’s well thought of; bring it, Mrs. Jewkes.
And she came, with Nan attending her, with two bottles and glasses, and
a salver; and must needs, making a low courtesy, offered first to me;
saying, Will your ladyship begin? I coloured like scarlet, and said,
No;—my master, to be sure!
But they all took the hint; and Miss Darnford said, I’ll be hanged if
they have not stolen a wedding! said Mrs. Peters, It must certainly be
so! Ah! Mr. Peters.
I’ll assure you, said he, I have not married them. Where were you, said
she, and Mr. Williams, last Thursday morning? said Sir Simon, Let me
alone, let me alone; if any thing has been stolen, I’ll find it out!
I’m a justice of the peace, you know. And so he took me by the hand,
and said, Come, madam, answer me, by the oath you have taken: Are you
married or not?
My master smiled, to see me look so like a fool; and I said, Pray, Sir
Simon!—Ay, ay, said he; I thought you did not look so smirking upon us
for nothing.—Well, then, Pamela, said my master, since your blushes
discover you, don’t be ashamed, but confess the truth!
Now, said Miss Darnford, I am quite angry; and, said Lady Darnford, I
am quite pleased; let me give you joy, dear madam, if it be so. And so
they all said, and saluted me all round.—I was vexed it was before Mrs.
Jewkes; for she shook her fat sides, and seemed highly pleased to be a
means of discovering it.
Nobody, said my master, wishes me joy. No, said Lady Jones, very
obligingly, nobody need; for, with such a peerless spouse, you want no
good wishes:—And he saluted them; and when he came last to me, said,
before them all, Now, my sweet bride, my Pamela, let me conclude with
you; for here I began to love, and here I desire to end loving, but not
till my life ends.
This was sweetly said, and taken great notice of; and it was doing
credit to his own generous choice, and vastly more than I merited.
But I was forced to stand many more jokes afterwards: For Sir Simon
said, several times, Come, come, madam, now you are become one of us, I
shall be a little less scrupulous than I have been, I’ll assure you.
When we came in to dinner, I made no difficulty of what all offered me,
the upper end of the table; and performed the honours of it with pretty
tolerable presence of mind, considering. And, with much ado, my good
benefactor promising to be down again before winter, we got off the
ball; but appointed Tuesday evening, at Lady Darnford’s, to take leave
of all this good company, who promised to be there, my master designing
to set out on Wednesday morning for Bedfordshire.