Samuel Richardson, the son of a joiner, was born at some place
not identified in Derbyshire, England, 1689. After serving an
apprenticeship to a stationer, he entered a printing office as
compositor and corrector of the press. In 1719 Richardson,
whose career throughout was that of the industrious
apprentice, took up his freedom, and began business as printer
and stationer in Salisbury Court, London. Success attended his
venture; he soon published a newspaper, and also obtained the
printing of the journals of the House of Commons. "Pamela, or
Virtue Rewarded," was written as the result of a suggestion by
two booksellers that Richardson should compose a volume of
familiar letters for illiterate country folk. It was published
towards the end of 1740, and its vogue, in an age particularly
coarse and robust, was extraordinary. Of the many who
ridiculed his performance the most noteworthy was Fielding,
who produced what Richardson and his friends regarded as the
"lewd and ungenerous engraftment of 'Joseph Andrews.'" The
story has many faults, but the portrayal of Pamela herself is
accomplished with the success of a master hand. Richardson
died July 4, 1761.
_I.--Pamela to her Parents_
MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--I have great trouble, and some comfort, to
acquaint you with. The trouble is that my good lady died of the illness
I mention'd to you, and left us all griev'd for the loss of her; for she
was a dear good lady, and kind to all us her servants. Much I fear'd,
that as I was taken by her ladyship to wait upon her person, I should be
quite destitute again, and forc'd to return to you and my poor mother,
who have enough to do to maintain yourselves; and, as my lady's goodness
had put me to write and cast accounts, and made me a little expert at my
needle, and otherwise qualify'd above my degree, it was not every family
that could have found a place that your poor Pamela was fit for. But
God, whose graciousness to us we have so often experienc'd, put it into
my good lady's heart, on her death-bed, just an hour before she expir'd,
to recommend to my young master all her servants, one by one; and when
it came to my turn to be recommended (for I was sobbing and crying at
her pillow) she could only say, "My dear son!" and so broke off a
little; and then recovering--"remember my poor Pamela!" and those were
some of her last words! O, how my eyes overflow! Don't wonder to see the
paper so blotted!
Well, but God's will must be done, and so comes the comfort, that I
shall not be obliged to return back to be a burden to my dear parents!
For my master said, "I will take care of you all, my good maidens; and
for you, Pamela (and took me by the hand before them all), for my dear
mother's sake I will be a friend to you, and you shall take care of my
linen." God bless him! and pray with me, my dear father and mother, for
a blessing upon him, for he has given mourning and a year's wages to all
my lady's servants; and I, having no wages as yet, my lady having said
she would do for me as I deserv'd, ordered the housekeeper to give me
mourning with the rest, and gave me with his own hand four guineas and
some silver, which were in my lady's pocket when she died; and said if I
was a good girl, and faithful and diligent, he would be a friend to me,
for his mother's sake. And so I send you these four guineas for your
comfort. I send them by John, our footman, who goes your way; but he
does not know what he carries; because I seal them up in one of the
little pill-boxes which my lady had, wrapp'd close in paper, that they
may not chink, and be sure don't open it before him.