Pamela, Or Virtue Rewarded

'MRS. JEWKES, 'What you write me, has given me no small disturbance. This wretched

fool's play-thing, no doubt, is ready to leap at any thing that offers,

rather than express the least sense of gratitude for all the benefits

she has received from my family, and which I was determined more and

more to heap upon her. I reserve her for my future resentment; and I

charge you double your diligence in watching her, to prevent her escape.

I send this by an honest Swiss, who attended me in my travels; a man I

can trust; and so let him be your assistant: for the artful creature is

enough to corrupt a nation by her seeming innocence and simplicity; and

she may have got a party, perhaps, among my servants with you, as she

has here. Even John Arnold, whom I confided in, and favoured more than

any, has proved an execrable villain; and shall meet his reward for it. 'As to that college novice, Williams, I need not bid you take care

he sees not this painted bauble: for I have ordered Mr. Shorter, my

attorney, to throw him instantly into gaol, on an action of debt, for

money he has had of me, which I had intended never to carry to account

against him; for I know all his rascally practices, besides what you

write me of his perfidious intrigue with that girl, and his acknowledged

contrivances for her escape; when he knew not, for certain, that I

designed her any mischief; and when, if he had been guided by a sense

of piety, or compassion for injured innocence, as he pretends, he would

have expostulated with me, as his function, and my friendship for him,

might have allowed him. But to enter into a vile intrigue with the

amiable gewgaw, to favour her escape in so base a manner, (to say

nothing of his disgraceful practices against me, in Sir Simon Darnford's

family, of which Sir Simon himself has informed me), is a conduct that,

instead of preferring the ungrateful wretch, as I had intended, shall

pull down upon him utter ruin. 'Monsieur Colbrand, my trusty Swiss, will obey you without reserve, if

my other servants refuse. 'As for her denying that she encouraged his declaration, I believe

it not. It is certain the speaking picture, with all that pretended

innocence and bashfulness, would have run away with him. Yes, she would

run away with a fellow that she had been acquainted with (and that not

intimately, if you were as careful as you ought to be) but a few days;

at a time when she had the strongest assurances of my honour to her. 'Well, I think, I now hate her perfectly: and though I will do nothing

to her myself, yet I can bear, for the sake of my revenge, and my

injured honour and slighted love, to see any thing, even what she most

fears, be done to her; and then she may be turned loose to her evil

destiny, and echo to the woods and groves her piteous lamentations for

the loss of her fantastical innocence, which the romantic ideot makes

such a work about. I shall go to London, with my sister Davers; and the

moment I can disengage myself, which, perhaps, may be in three weeks

from this time, I will be with you, and decide her fate, and put an end

to your trouble. Mean time be doubly careful; for this innocent, as I

have warned you, is full of contrivances. I am 'Your friend.' I had but just read this dreadful letter through, when Mrs. Jewkes

came up in a great fright, guessing at the mistake, and that I had her

letter, and she found me with it open in my hand, just sinking away.

What business, said she, had you to read my letter? and snatched it from

me. You see, said she, looking upon it, it says Mrs. Jewkes, at top:

You ought, in manners, to have read no further. O add not, said I, to my

afflictions! I shall be soon out of all your ways! This is too much! too

much! I never can support this--and threw myself upon the couch, in my

closet, and wept most bitterly. She read it in the next room, and came

in again afterwards. Why, this, said she, is a sad letter indeed: I am

sorry for it: But I feared you would carry your niceties too far!--Leave

me, leave me, Mrs. Jewkes, said I, for a while: I cannot speak nor

talk.--Poor heart! said she; Well, I'll come up again presently, and

hope to find you better. But here, take your own letter; I wish you

well; but this is a sad mistake! And so she put down by me that which

was intended for me: But I have no spirit to read it at present. O man!

man! hard-hearted, cruel man! what mischiefs art thou not capable of,

unrelenting persecutor as thou art! I sat ruminating, when I had a little come to myself, upon the terms of

this wicked letter; and had no inclination to look into my own. The

bad names, fool's play-thing, artful creature, painted bauble, gewgaw,

speaking picture, are hard words for your poor Pamela! and I began to

think whether I was not indeed a very naughty body, and had not done

vile things: But when I thought of his having discovered poor John, and

of Sir Simon's base officiousness, in telling him of Mr. Williams, with

what he had resolved against him in revenge for his goodness to me, I

was quite dispirited; and yet still more about that fearful Colbrand,

and what he could see done to me: for then I was ready to gasp for

breath, and my heart quite failed me. Then how dreadful are the words,

that he will decide my fate in three weeks! Gracious Heaven, said I,

strike me dead, before that time, with a thunderbolt, or provide some

way for my escaping these threatened mischiefs! God forgive me, if I

sinned! At last, I took up the letter directed for Mrs. Jewkes, but designed

for me; and I find that little better than the other. These are the hard

terms it contains: 'Well have you done, perverse, forward, artful, yet foolish Pamela,

to convince me, before it was too late, how ill I had done to place my

affections on so unworthy an object: I had vowed honour and love to your

unworthiness, believing you a mirror of bashful modesty and unspotted

innocence; and that no perfidious designs lurked in so fair a bosom. But

now I have found you out, you specious hypocrite! and I see, that though

you could not repose the least confidence in one you had known for

years, and who, under my good mother's misplaced favour for you, had

grown up in a manner with you; when my passion, in spite of my pride,

and the difference of our condition, made me stoop to a meanness that

now I despise myself for; yet you could enter into an intrigue with a

man you never knew till within these few days past, and resolve to run

away with a stranger, whom your fair face, and insinuating arts, had

bewitched to break through all the ties of honour and gratitude to me,

even at a time when the happiness of his future life depended upon my

favour. 'Henceforth, for Pamela's sake, whenever I see a lovely face, will

I mistrust a deceitful heart; and whenever I hear of the greatest

pretences to innocence, will I suspect some deep-laid mischief. You were

determined to place no confidence in me, though I have solemnly, over

and over, engaged my honour to you. What, though I had alarmed your

fears in sending you one way, when you hoped to go another; yet, had

I not, to convince you of my resolution to do justly by you, (although

with great reluctance, such then was my love for you,) engaged not

to come near you without your own consent? Was not this a voluntary

demonstration of the generosity of my intention to you? Yet how have

you requited me? The very first fellow that your charming face, and

insinuating address, could influence, you have practised upon, corrupted

too, I may say, (and even ruined, as the ungrateful wretch shall find,)

and thrown your forward self upon him. As, therefore, you would place no

confidence in me, my honour owes you nothing; and, in a little time, you

shall find how much you have erred, in treating, as you have done, a man

who was once 'Your affectionate and kind friend.' 'Mrs. Jewkes has directions concerning you: and if your lot is now

harder than you might wish, you will bear it the easier, because your

own rash folly has brought it upon you.' Alas! for me, what a fate is mine, to be thus thought artful, and

forward, and ungrateful; when all I intended was to preserve my

innocence; and when all the poor little shifts, which his superior

wicked wit and cunning have rendered ineffectual, were forced upon me in

my own necessary defence! When Mrs. Jewkes came up to me again, she found me bathed in tears. She

seemed, as I thought, to be moved to some compassion; and finding myself

now entirely in her power, and that it is not for me to provoke her,

I said, It is now, I see, in vain for me to contend against my evil

destiny, and the superior arts of my barbarous master. I will resign

myself to the Divine will, and prepare to expect the worst. But you see

how this poor Mr. Williams is drawn in and undone: I am sorry I am made

the cause of his ruin. Poor, poor man!--to be thus involved, and for my

sake too!--But if you'll believe me, said I, I gave no encouragement

to what he proposed, as to marriage; nor would he have proposed it, I

believe, but as the only honourable way he thought was left to save me:

And his principal motive to it at all, was virtue and compassion to

one in distress. What other view could he have? You know I am poor and

friendless. All I beg of you is, to let the poor gentleman have notice

of my master's resentment; and let him fly the country, and not be

thrown into gaol. This will answer my master's end as well; for it will

as effectually hinder him from assisting me, as if he was in a prison. Ask me, said she, to do any thing that is in my power, consistent with

my duty and trust, and I will do it: for I am sorry for you both. But,

to be sure, I shall keep no correspondence with him, nor let you. I

offered to talk of a duty superior to that she mentioned, which would

oblige her to help distressed innocence, and not permit her to go the

lengths enjoined by lawless tyranny; but she plainly bid me be silent on

that head: for it was in vain to attempt to persuade her to betray her

trust:--All I have to advise you, said she, is to be easy; lay aside

all your contrivances and arts to get away, and make me your friend,

by giving me no reason to suspect you; for I glory in my fidelity to my

master: And you have both practised some strange sly arts, to make such

a progress as he has owned there was between you, so seldom as I thought

you saw one another; and I must be more circumspect than I have been. This doubled my concern; for I now apprehended I should be much closer

watched than before. Well, said I, since I have, by this strange accident, discovered my hard

destiny; let me read over again that fearful letter of yours, that I

may get it by heart, and with it feed my distress, and make calamity

familiar to me. Then, said she, let me read yours again. I gave her

mine, and she lent me hers: and so I took a copy of it, with her leave;

because, as I said I would, by it, prepare myself for the worst. And

when I had done, I pinned it on the head of the couch: This, said I, is

the use I shall make of this wretched copy of your letter; and here you

shall always find it wet with my tears. She said she would go down to order supper; and insisted upon my company

to it. I would have excused myself; but she began to put on a commanding

air, that I durst not oppose. And when I went down, she took me by the

hand, and presented me to the most hideous monster I ever saw in my

life. Here, Monsieur Colbrand, said she, here is your pretty ward and

mine; let us try to make her time with us easy. He bowed, and put on his

foreign grimaces, and seemed to bless himself; and, in broken English,

told me, I was happy in de affections of de finest gentleman in de

varld!--I was quite frightened, and ready to drop down; and I will

describe him to you, my dear father and mother, if now you will ever see

this: and you shall judge if I had not reason, especially not knowing he

was to be there, and being apprised, as I was, of his hated employment,

to watch me closer. He is a giant of a man for stature; taller by a good deal than Harry

Mowlidge, in your neighbourhood, and large boned, and scraggy; and has

a hand!--I never saw such an one in my life. He has great staring eyes,

like the bull's that frightened me so; vast jaw-bones sticking out:

eyebrows hanging over his eyes; two great scars upon his forehead, and

one on his left cheek; and two large whiskers, and a monstrous wide

mouth; blubber lips; long yellow teeth, and a hideous grin. He wears

his own frightful long hair, tied up in a great black bag; a black crape

neckcloth about a long ugly neck: and his throat sticking out like a

wen. As to the rest, he was dressed well enough, and had a sword on,

with a nasty red knot to it; leather garters, buckled below his knees;

and a foot--near as long as my arm, I verily think. He said, he fright de lady; and offered to withdraw; but she bid him

not; and I told Mrs. Jewkes, That as she knew I had been crying, she

should not have called me to the gentleman without letting me know he

was there. I soon went up to my closet; for my heart ached all the time

I was at table, not being able to look upon him without horror; and this

brute of a woman, though she saw my distress, before this addition to

it, no doubt did it on purpose to strike more terror into me. And indeed

it had its effect: for when I went to bed, I could think of nothing but

his hideous person, and my master's more hideous actions: and thought

them too well paired; and when I dropt asleep, I dreamed they were both

coming to my bedside, with the worst designs; and I jumped out of my bed

in my sleep, and frightened Mrs. Jewkes; till, waking with the terror, I

told her my dream; and the wicked creature only laughed, and said, All I

feared was but a dream, as well as that; and when it was over, and I was

well awake, I should laugh at it as such! And now I am come to the close of Wednesday, the 27th day of my

distress. Poor Mr. Williams is actually arrested, and carried away to Stamford.

So there is an end of all my hopes from him, poor gentleman! His

over-security and openness have ruined us both! I was but too well

convinced, that we ought not to have lost a moment's time; but he

was half angry, and thought me too impatient; and then his fatal

confessions, and the detestable artifice of my master!--But one might

well think, that he who had so cunningly, and so wickedly, contrived

all his stratagems hitherto, that it was impossible to avoid them, would

stick at nothing to complete them. I fear I shall soon find it so! But one stratagem I have just invented, though a very discouraging one

to think of; because I have neither friends nor money, nor know one step

of the way, if I was out of the house. But let bulls, and bears, and

lions, and tigers, and, what is worse, false, treacherous, deceitful

men, stand in my way, I cannot be in more danger than I am; and I depend

nothing upon his three weeks: for how do I know, now he is in such a

passion, and has already begun his vengeance on poor Mr. Williams, that

he will not change his mind, and come down to Lincolnshire before he

goes to London? My stratagem is this: I will endeavour to get Mrs. Jewkes to go to bed

without me, as she often does, while I sit locked up in my closet: and

as she sleeps very sound in her first sleep, of which she never fails to

give notice by snoring, if I can but then get out between the two bars

of the window, (for you know I am very slender, and I find I can get

my head through,) then I can drop upon the leads underneath, which

are little more than my height, and which leads are over a little

summer-parlour, that juts out towards the garden; and as I am light, I

can easily drop from them; for they are not high from the ground: then I

shall be in the garden; and then, as I have the key of the back-door,

I will get out. But I have another piece of cunning still: Good Heaven,

succeed to me my dangerous, but innocent devices!--I have read of a

great captain, who, being in danger, leaped overboard into the sea,

and his enemies, as he swam, shooting at him with bows and arrows, he

unloosed his upper garment, and took another course, while they stuck

that full of their darts and arrows; and so he escaped, and lived

to triumph over them all. So what will I do, but strip off my upper

petticoat, and throw it into the pond, with my neckhandkerchief! For to

be sure, when they miss me, they will go to the pond first, thinking I

have drowned myself: and so, when they see some of my clothes floating

there, they will be all employed in dragging the pond, which is a very

large one; and as I shall not, perhaps, be missed till the morning, this

will give me opportunity to get a great way off; and I am sure I will

run for it when I am out. And so I trust, that Providence will direct my

steps to some good place of safety, and make some worthy body my friend;

for sure, if I suffer ever so, I cannot be in more danger, nor in worse

hands, than where I am; and with such avowed bad designs. O my dear parents! don't be frightened when you come to read this!--But

all will be over before you can see it; and so God direct me for the

best! My writings, for fear I should not escape, I will bury in the

garden; for, to be sure, I shall be searched and used dreadfully if I

can't get off. And so I will close here, for the present, to prepare for

my plot. Prosper thou, O gracious Protector of oppressed innocence! this

last effort of thy poor handmaid! that I may escape the crafty devices

and snares that have begun to entangle my virtue; and from which, but

by this one trial, I see no way of escaping. And oh! whatever becomes of

me, bless my dear parents, and protect poor Mr. Williams from ruin! for

he was happy before he knew me. Just now, just now! I heard Mrs. Jewkes, who is in her cups, own to the

horrid Colbrand, that the robbing of poor Mr. Williams was a contrivance

of hers, and executed by the groom and a helper, in order to seize my

letters upon him, which they missed. They are now both laughing at the

dismal story, which they little think I overheard--O how my heart

aches! for what are not such wretches capable of! Can you blame me for

endeavouring, through any danger, to get out of such clutches? Past eleven o'clock. Mrs. Jewkes is come up, and gone to bed; and bids me not stay long in my

closet, but come to bed. O for a dead sleep for the treacherous brute! I

never saw her so tipsy, and that gives me hopes. I have tried again, and

find I can get my head through the iron bars. I am now all prepared,

as soon as I hear her fast; and now I'll seal up these, and my other

papers, my last work: and to thy providence, O my gracious God! commit

the rest.--Once more, God bless you both! and send us a happy meeting;

if not here, in his heavenly kingdom. Amen.