whole family, and miss too, she found means to engage him to give her a
meeting at Woodstock, in order to clear herself: That, poor lady! she
was there obliged, naughty creature as he was! to make herself quite
guilty of a worse fault, in order to clear herself of a lighter: That
they afterwards met at Godstow often, at Woodstock, and every
neighbouring place to Oxford, where he was then studying, as it proved,
guilty lessons, instead of improving ones; till, at last, the effect of
their frequent interviews grew too obvious to be concealed: That the
young lady then, when she was not fit to be seen, for the credit of the
family, was confined, and all manner of means were used, to induce him
to marry her: That, finding nothing would do, they at last resolved to
complain to his father and mother; but that he made his sister
acquainted with the matter, who then happened to be at home; and, by
her management and spirit, their intentions of that sort were
frustrated; and, seeing no hopes, they agreed to Lady Davers’s
proposals, and sent poor miss down to Marlborough, where, at her
expense, which he answered to her again, she was provided for, and
privately lay-in: That Lady Davers took upon herself the care of the
little one, till it came to be fit to be put to the boarding-school,
where it now is: And that he had settled upon the dear little miss such
a sum of money, as the interest of it would handsomely provide for her:
and the principal would be a tolerable fortune, fit for a gentlewoman,
when she came to be marriageable. And this, my dear, said he, is the
story in brief. And I do assure you, Pamela, added he, I am far from
making a boast of, or taking a pride in, this affair: But since it has
happened, I can’t say but I wish the poor child to live, and be happy;
and I must endeavour to make her so.
Sir, said I, to be sure you should; and I shall take a very great pride
to contribute to the dear little soul’s felicity, if you will permit me
to have her home.—But, added I, does miss know any thing who are her
father and mother? I wanted him to say if the poor lady was living or
dead.—No, answered he. Her governess has been told, by my sister, that
she is the daughter of a gentleman and his lady, who are related, at a
distance, to Lord Davers, and now live in Jamaica; and she calls me
uncle, only because I am the brother to Lady Davers, whom she calls
aunt, and who is very fond of her: as is also my lord, who knows the
whole matter; and they have her, at all her little school recesses, at
their house, and are very kind to her.
I believe, added he, the truth of the matter is very little known or
suspected; for, as her mother is of no mean family, her friends
endeavour to keep it secret, as much as I: and Lady Davers, till her
wrath boiled over, t’other day, has managed the matter very dexterously
and kindly.
The words, mother is of no mean family, gave me not to doubt the poor
lady was living. And I said, But how, sir, can the dear miss’s poor
mother be content to deny herself the enjoyment of so sweet a child?
Ah, Pamela, replied he, now you come in; I see you want to know what’s
become of the poor mother. ’Tis natural enough you should; but I was
willing to see how the little suspense would operate upon you.—Dear
sir, said I.—Nay, replied he, ’tis very natural, my dear! I think you
have had a great deal of patience, and are come at this question so
fairly that you deserve to be answered.
You must know then, there is some foundation for saying, that her
mother, at least, lives in Jamaica; for there she does live, and very
happily too. For I must observe, that she suffered so much in
child-bed, that nobody expected her life; and this, when she was up,
made such an impression upon her, that she dreaded nothing so much as
the thoughts of returning to her former fault; and, to say the truth, I
had intended to make her a visit as soon as her month was well up. And
so, unknown to me, she engaged herself to go to Jamaica, with two young
ladies, who were born there; and were returning to their friends, after
they had been four years in England for their education: and,
recommending to me, by a very moving letter, her little baby, and that
I would not suffer it to be called by her name, but Goodwin, that her
shame might be the less known, for hers and her family’s sake; she got
her friends to assign her five hundred pounds, in full of all her
demands upon her family, and went up to London, and embarked, with her
companions, at Gravesend, and so sailed to Jamaica; where she is since
well and happily married, passing to her husband for a young widow,
with one daughter, which her husband’s friends take care of, and
provide for. And so you see, Pamela, that in the whole story on both
sides, the truth is as much preserved as possible.
Poor lady! said I; how her story moves me! I am glad she is so happy at
last!—And, my dear, said he, are you not glad she is so far off too?—As
to that, sir, said I, I cannot be sorry, to be sure, as she is so
happy; which she could not have been here. For, sir, I doubt you would
have proceeded with your temptations, if she had not gone; and it
shewed she was much in earnest to be good, that she could leave her
native country, leave all her relations, leave you, whom she so well
loved, leave her dear baby, and try a new fortune, in a new world,
among quite strangers, and hazard the seas; and all to preserve herself
from further guiltiness! Indeed, indeed, sir, said I, I bleed for what
her distresses must be, in this case I am grieved for her poor mind’s
remorse, through her childbed terrors, which could have so great and so
worthy an effect upon her afterwards; and I honour her resolution; and
would rank such a returning dear lady in the class of those who are
most virtuous; and doubt not God Almighty’s mercy to her; and that her
present happiness is the result of his gracious providence, blessing
her penitence and reformation.—But, sir, said I, did you not once see
the poor lady after her lying-in?
I did not believe her so much in earnest, answered he; and I went down
to Marlborough, and heard she was gone from thence to Calne. I went to
Calne, and heard she was gone to Reading, to a relation’s there.
Thither I went, and heard she was gone to Oxford. I followed; and there
she was; but I could not see her.
She at last received a letter from me, begging a meeting with her; for
I found her departure with the ladies was resolved on, and that she was
with her friends, only to take leave of them, and receive her agreed on
portion: And she appointed the Saturday following, and that was
Wednesday, to give me a meeting at the old place, at Woodstock.
Then, added he, I thought I was sure of her, and doubted not I should
spoil her intended voyage. I set out on Thursday to Gloucester, on a
party of pleasure; and on Saturday I went to the place appointed, at
Woodstock: But when I came thither, I found a letter instead of my
lady; and when I opened it, it was to beg my pardon for deceiving me;
expressing her concern for her past fault; her affection for me; and
the apprehension she had, that she should be unable to keep her good
resolves, if she met me: that she had set out on the Thursday for her
embarkation; for that she feared nothing else could save her; and had
appointed this meeting on Saturday, at the place of her former guilt,
that I might be suitably impressed upon the occasion, and pity and
allow for her; and that she might get three or four days start of me,
and be quite out of my reach. She recommended again, as upon the spot
where the poor little one owed its being, my tenderness to it, for her
sake; and that was all she had to request of me, she said; but would
not forget to pray for me in all her own dangers, and in every
difficulty she was going to encounter.
I wept at this moving tale. And did not this make a deep impression
upon you, sir? said I. Surely such an affecting lesson as this, on the
very guilty spot too, (I admire the dear lady’s pious contrivance!)
must have had a great effect upon you. One would have thought, sir, it
was enough to reclaim you for ever! All your naughty purposes, I make
no doubt, were quite changed?
Why, my dear, said he, I was much moved, you may be sure, when I came
to reflect: But, at first, I was so assured of being a successful
tempter, and spoiling her voyage, that I was vexed, and much out of
humour; but when I came to reflect, as I said, I was quite overcome
with this instance of her prudence, her penitence, and her resolution;
and more admired her than I ever had done. Yet I could not bear she
should so escape me neither; so much overcome me, as it were, in an
heroical bravery; and I hastened away, and got a bill of credit of Lord
Davers, upon his banker in London, for five hundred pounds; and set out
for that place, having called at Oxford, and got what light I could, as
to where I might hear of her there.
When I arrived in town, which was not till Monday morning, I went to a
place called Crosby-square, where the friends of the two ladies lived.
She had set out in the flying-coach on Tuesday; got to the two ladies
that very night; and, on Saturday, had set out with them for Gravesend,
much about the time I was expecting her at Woodstock.
You may suppose that I was much affected, my dear, with this. However,
I got my bill of credit converted into money; and I set out with my
servant on Monday afternoon, and reached Gravesend that night; and
there I understood that she and the two ladies had gone on board from
the very inn I put up at, in the morning; and the ship waited only for
the wind, which then was turning about in its favour.
I got a boat directly, and went on board the ship, and asked for Mrs.
Godfrey. But judge you, my dear Pamela, her surprise and confusion,
when she saw me! She had like to have fainted away. I offered any money
to put off the sailing till next day, but it would not be complied
with; and fain would I have got her on shore, and promised to attend
her, if she would go over land, to any part of England the ship would
touch at. But she was immovable.
Every one concluded me her humble servant, and were touched at the
moving interview; the young ladies, and their female attendants,
especially. With great difficulty, upon my solemn assurances of honour,
she trusted herself with me in one of the cabins; and there I tried,
what I could, to prevail upon her to quit her purpose; but all in vain:
She said, I had made her quite unhappy by this interview! She had
difficulties enough upon her mind before; but now I had embittered all
her voyage, and given her the deepest distress.
I could prevail upon her but for one favour, and that with the greatest
reluctance; which was, to accept of the five hundred pounds, as a
present from me; and she promised, at my earnest desire, to draw upon
me for a greater sum, as a person that had her effects in my hands,
when she arrived, if she should find it convenient for her. In short,
this was all the favour I could procure; for she would not promise so
much as to correspond with me, and was determined on going: and, I
believe, if I would have married her, which yet I had not in my head,
she would not have deviated from her purpose.
But how, sir, said I, did you part? I would have sailed with her,
answered he, and been landed at the first port in England or Ireland, I
cared not which, they should put in at; but she was too full of
apprehensions to admit it; And the rough fellow of a master, captain
they called him, (but, in my mind, I could have thrown him overboard,)
would not stay a moment, the wind and tide being quite fair; and was
very urgent with me to go a-shore, or to go the voyage; and being
impetuous in my temper, (spoiled, you know, my dear, by my mother,) and
not used to control, I thought it very strange that wind or tide, or
any thing else, should be preferred to me and my money: But so it was;
I was forced to go; and so took leave of the ladies, and the other
passengers; wished them a good voyage; gave five guineas among the
ship’s crew, to be good to the ladies, and took such a leave as you may
better imagine than I express. She recommended once more to me, the
dear guest, as she called her, the ladies being present; and thanked me
for all these instances of my regard, which, she said, would leave a
strong impression on her mind; and, at parting, she threw her arms
about my neck, and we took such a leave, as affected every one present,
men, as well as ladies.
So, with a truly heavy heart, I went down the ship’s side to my boat;
and stood up in it, looking at her, as long as I could see her, and she
at me, with her handkerchief at her eyes; and then I gazed at the ship,
till, and after I had landed, as long as I could discern the least
appearance of it; for she was under sail, in a manner, when I left her;
and so I returned highly disturbed to my inn.
I went to bed, but rested not; returned to London the next morning; and
set out that afternoon again for the country. And so much, my dear, for
poor Sally Godfrey.—She sends, I understand, by all opportunities, with
the knowledge of her husband, to learn how her child, by her first
husband, does; and has the satisfaction to know she is happily provided
for. And, about half a year ago, her spouse sent a little negro boy, of
about ten years old, as a present, to wait upon her. But he was taken
ill of the small-pox, and died in a month after he was landed.
Sure, sir, said I, your generous mind must have been long affected with
this melancholy case, and all its circumstances.
It hung upon me, indeed, some time, said he; but I was full of spirit
and inconsideration. I went soon after to travel; a hundred new objects
danced before my eyes, and kept reflection from me. And, you see, I had
five or six years afterwards, and even before that, so thoroughly lost
all the impressions you talk of, that I doubted not to make my Pamela
change her name, without either act of parliament, or wedlock, and be
Sally Godfrey the second.
O you dear naughty man! said I, this seems but too true! but I bless
God that it is not so!—I bless God for your reformation, and that for
your own dear sake, as well as mine!
Well, my dear, said he, and I bless God for it too!—I do most
sincerely!—And ’tis my greater pleasure, because I have, as I hoped,
seen my error so early; and that with such a stock of youth and health
on my side, in all appearance, I can truly abhor my past liberties, and
pity poor Sally Godfrey, from the same motives that I admire my
Pamela’s virtues; and resolve to make myself as worthy of them as
possible: And I will hope, my dear, your prayers for my pardon, and my
perseverance, will be of no small efficacy on this occasion.
These agreeable reflections, on this melancholy but instructive story,
brought us in view of his own house; and we alighted, and took a walk
in the garden till dinner was ready. And now we are so busy about
making ready for our appearance, that I shall hardly have time to write
till that be over.
Monday morning.
Yesterday we set out, attended by John, Abraham, Benjamin, and Isaac,
in fine new liveries, in the best chariot, which had been new cleaned,
and lined, and new harnessed; so that it looked like a quite new one.
But I had no arms to quarter with my dear lord and master’s; though he
jocularly, upon my taking notice of my obscurity, said, that he had a
good mind to have the olive-branch, which would allude to his hopes,
quartered for mine. I was dressed in the suit I mentioned, of white
flowered with silver, and a rich head-dress, and the diamond necklace,
ear-rings, etc. I also mentioned before: And my dear sir, in a fine
laced silk waistcoat, of blue paduasoy, and his coat a pearl-coloured
fine cloth, with gold buttons and button-holes, and lined with white
silk; and he looked charmingly indeed. I said, I was too fine, and
would have laid aside some of the jewels; but he said, It would be
thought a slight to me from him, as his wife; and though as I
apprehended, it might be, that people would talk as it was, yet he had
rather they should say any thing, than that I was not put upon an equal
footing, as his wife, with any lady he might have married.
It seems the neighbouring gentry had expected us; and there was a great
congregation; for (against my wish) we were a little of the latest; so
that, as we walked up the church to his seat, we had abundance of
gazers and whisperers: But my dear master behaved with so intrepid an
air, and was so cheerful and complaisant to me, that he did credit to
his kind choice, instead of shewing as if he was ashamed of it: And as
I was resolved to busy my mind entirely with the duties of the day, my
intentness on that occasion, and my thankfulness to God, for his
unspeakable mercies to me, so took up my thoughts, that I was much less
concerned, than I should otherwise have been, at the gazings and
whisperings of the ladies and gentlemen, as well as of the rest of the
congregation, whose eyes were all turned to our seat.
When the sermon was ended, we staid the longer, because the church
should be pretty empty; but we found great numbers at the church-doors,
and in the church-porch; and I had the pleasure of hearing many
commendations, as well of my person, as my dress and behaviour, and not
one reflection, or mark of disrespect. Mr. Martin, who is single, Mr.
Chambers, Mr. Arthur, and Mr. Brooks, with their families, were all
there: And the four gentlemen came up to us, before we went into the
chariot, and, in a very kind and respectful manner, complimented us
both: and Mrs. Arthur and Mrs. Brooks were so kind as to wish me joy;
and Mrs. Brooks said, You sent Mr. Brooks, madam, home t’other day,
quite charmed with a manner, which, you have convinced a thousand
persons this day, is natural to you.
You do me great honour, madam, replied I. Such a good lady’s
approbation must make me too sensible of my happiness. My dear master
handed me into the chariot, and stood talking with Sir Thomas Atkyns,
at the door of it, (who was making him abundance of compliments, and is
a very ceremonious gentleman, a little too extreme in that way,) and, I
believe, to familiarize me to the gazers, which concerned me a little;
for I was dashed to hear the praises of the countrypeople, and to see
how they crowded about the chariot. Several poor people begged my
charity, and I beckoned John with my fan, and said, Divide in the
further church-porch, that money to the poor, and let them come
to-morrow morning to me, and I will give them something more, if they
don’t importune me now. So I gave him all the silver I had, which
happened to be between twenty and thirty shillings; and this drew away
from me their clamorous prayers for charity.
Mr. Martin came up to me on the other side of the chariot, and leaned
on the very door, while my master was talking to Sir Thomas, from whom
he could not get away; and said, By all that’s good, you have charmed
the whole congregation! Not a soul but is full of your praises! My
neighbour knew, better than any body could tell him, how to choose for
himself. Why, said he, the dean himself looked more upon you than his
book.
O sir, said I, you are very encouraging to a weak mind! I vow, said he,
I say no more than is truth: I’d marry to-morrow, if I was sure of
meeting with a person of but one-half the merit you have. You are,
continued he, and ’tis not my way to praise too much, an ornament to
your sex, an honour to your spouse, and a credit to religion.—Every
body is saying so, added he; for you have, by your piety, edified the
whole church.
As he had done speaking, the dean himself complimented me, that the
behaviour of so worthy a lady, would be very edifying to his
congregation, and encouraging to himself. Sir, said I, you are very
kind: I hope I shall not behave unworthy of the good instructions I
shall have the pleasure to receive from so worthy a divine. He bowed,
and went on.
Sir Thomas then applied to me, my master stepping into the chariot, and
said, I beg pardon, madam, for detaining your good spouse from you: but
I have been saying, he is the happiest man in the world. I bowed to
him, but I could have wished him further, to make me sit so in the
notice of every one; which, for all I could do, dashed me not a little.
Mr. Martin said to my master, If you’ll come to church every Sunday
with your charming lady, I will never absent myself, and she’ll give a
good example to all the neighbourhood. O, my dear sir! said I to my
master, you know not how much I am obliged to good Mr. Martin! He has,
by his kind expressions, made me dare to look up with pleasure and
gratitude.
Said my master, My dear love, I am very much obliged, as well as you,
to my good friend Mr. Martin. And he said to him, We will constantly go
to church, and to every other place, where we can have the pleasure of
seeing Mr. Martin.
Mr. Martin said, Gad, sir, you are a happy man; and I think your lady’s
example has made you more polite and handsome too, than I ever knew you
before, though we never thought you unpolite, neither. And so he bowed,
and went to his own chariot; and, as we drove away, the people kindly
blessed us, and called us a charming pair.
As I have no other pride, I hope, in repeating these things, than in
the countenance the general approbation gives to my dear master, for
his stooping so low, you will excuse me for it, I know.
In the afternoon we went again to church, and a little early, at my
request; but the church was quite full, and soon after even crowded; so
much does novelty (the more’s the pity!) attract the eyes of mankind.
Mr. Martin came in after us, and made up to our seat; and said, If you
please, my dear friend, I will take my seat with you this afternoon.
With all my heart, said my master. I was sorry for it; but was resolved
my duty should not be made second to bashfulness, or any other
consideration; and when divine service began, I withdrew to the farther
end of the pew, and left the gentlemen in the front, and they behaved
quite suitably, both of them, to the occasion. I mention this the
rather, because Mr. Martin was not very noted for coming to church, or
attention when there, before.
The dean preached again, which he was not used to do, out of compliment
to us; and an excellent sermon he made on the relative duties of
Christianity: And it took my particular attention; for he made many
fine observations on the subject. Mr. Martin addressed himself twice or
thrice to me, during the sermon; but he saw me so wholly engrossed with
hearkening to the good preacher, that he forbore interrupting me; yet I
took care, according to the lessons formerly given me, to observe to
him a cheerful and obliging behaviour, as one of Mr. B——’s friends and
intimates. My master asked him to give him his company to supper; and
he said, I am so taken with your lady, that you must not give me too
much encouragement; for I shall be always with you, if you do. He was
pleased to say, You cannot favour us with too much of your company; and
as I have left you in the lurch in your single state, I think you will
do well to oblige us as much as you can; and who knows but my happiness
may reform another rake? Who knows? said Mr. Martin: Why, I know; for I
am more than half reformed already.
At the chariot door, Mrs. Arthur, Mrs. Brooks, and Mrs. Chambers, were
brought to me, by their respective spouses; and presently the witty
Lady Towers, who bantered me before, (as I once told you,) joined them;
and Mrs. Arthur said, she wished me joy; and that all the good ladies,
my neighbours, would collect themselves together, and make me a visit.
This, said I, will be an honour, madam, that I can never enough
acknowledge. It will be very kind so to countenance a person who will
always study to deserve your favour, by the most respectful behaviour.
Lady Towers said, My dear neighbour, you want no countenance; your own
merit is sufficient. I had a slight cold, that kept me at home in the
morning; but I heard you so much talked of, and praised, that I
resolved not to stay away in the afternoon; and I join in the joy every
one gives you. She turned to my master, and said, You are a sly thief,
as I always thought you. Where have you stolen this lady? And now, how
barbarous is it, thus unawares, in a manner, to bring her here upon us,
to mortify and eclipse us all?—You are very kind, madam, said he, that
you and all my worthy neighbours see with my eyes. But had I not known
she had so much excellency of mind and behaviour, as would strike every
body in her favour at first sight, I should not have dared to class her
with such of my worthy neighbours, as now so kindly congratulate us
both.
I own, said she, softly, I was one of your censurers; but I never liked
you so well in my life, as for this action, now I see how capable your
bride is of giving distinction to any condition.—And, coming to me, My
dear neighbour, said she, excuse me for having but in my thought, the
remembrance that I have seen you formerly, when, by your sweet air and
easy deportment, you so much surpass us all, and give credit to your
present happy condition.
Dear good madam, said I, how shall I suitably return my
acknowledgments! But it will never be a pain to me to look back upon my
former days, now I have the kind allowance and example of so many
worthy ladies to support me in the honours to which the most generous
of men has raised me.
Sweetly said! she was pleased to say. If I was in another place, I
would kiss you for that answer. Oh! happy, happy Mr. B——! said she to
my master; what reputation have you not brought upon your judgment! I
won’t be long before I see you, added she, I’ll assure you, if I come
by myself. That shall be your own fault, madam, said Mrs. Brooks.