Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded — 28

Tuesday morning, the sixth of my happiness.

My master had said to Mrs. Jewkes, that he should not rise till eight or nine, as he had sat up all the night before: but it seems, my lady, knowing he usually rose about six, got up soon after that hour; raised her woman and her nephew; having a whimsical scheme in her head, to try to find whether we were in bed together: And, about half an hour after six, she rapped at our chamber door.

My master was waked at the noise, and asked, Who was there?

Open the door, said she; open it this minute!

I said, clinging about his neck, Dear, dear sir, pray, pray don’t!

—O save me, save me!

Don’t fear, Pamela, said he.

The woman’s mad, I believe.

But he called out; Who are you?

What do you want?

—You know my voice well enough, said she:—I will come in.

—Pray, sir, said I, don’t let her ladyship in.

—Don’t be frightened, my dear, said he; she thinks we are not married, and are afraid to be found a-bed together.

I’ll let her in; but she shan’t come near my dearest.

So he slipt out of bed, and putting on some of his clothes, and gown and slippers, he said, What bold body dare disturb my repose thus?

and opened the door.

In rushed she: I’ll see your wickedness, said she, I will!

In vain shall you think to hide it from me.

—What should I hide?

said he.

How dare you set a foot into my house, after the usage I have received from you?

—I had covered myself over head and ears, and trembled every joint.

He looked, and ’spied her woman and kinsman in the room, she crying out, Bear witness, Jackey; bear witness, Beck; the creature is now in his bed!

And not seeing the young gentleman before, who was at the feet of the bed, he said, How now, sir?

What’s your business in this apartment?

Begone this moment!

—And he went away directly.

Beck, said my lady, you see the creature is in his bed.

I do, madam, answered she.

My master came to me, and said, Ay, look, Beck, and bear witness: Here is my Pamela!

—My dear angel, my lovely creature, don’t be afraid; look up, and see how frantickly this woman of quality behaves.

At that, I just peeped, and saw my lady, who could not bear this, coming to me; and she said, Wicked abandoned wretch!

Vile brother, to brave me thus!

I’ll tear the creature out of bed before your face, and expose you both as you deserve.

At that he took her in his arms, as if she had been nothing; and carrying her out of the room, she cried out, Beck!

Beck!

help me, Beck!

the wretch is going to fling me down stairs!

Her woman ran to him, and said, Good sir, for Heaven’s sake do no violence to my lady!

Her ladyship has been ill all night.

He sat her down in the chamber she lay in, and she could not speak for passion.

Take care of your lady, said he; and when she has rendered herself more worthy of my attention, I’ll see her; till then, at her peril, and yours too, come not near my apartment.

And so he came to me, and, with all the sweet soothing words in the world, pacified my fears, and gave me leave to go to write in my closet, as soon as my fright was over, and to stay there till things were more calm.

And so he dressed himself, and went out of the chamber, permitting me, at my desire, to fasten the door after him.

At breakfast-time my master tapped at the door, and I said, Who’s there?

I, my dearest, said he.

Oh!

then, replied I, I will open it with pleasure.

I had written on a good deal; but I put it by, when I ran to the door.

I would have locked it again, when he was in; but he said, Am not I here?

Don’t be afraid.

Said he, Will you come down to breakfast, my love?

O no, dear sir, said I; be pleased to excuse me!

said he, I cannot bear the look of it, that the mistress of my house should breakfast in her closet, as if she durst not come down, and I at home!

—O, dearest sir, replied I, pray pass that over, for my sake; and don’t let my presence aggravate your sister, for a kind punctilio!

Then, my dear, said he, I will breakfast with you here.

No, pray, dear sir, answered I, breakfast with your sister.

That, my dear, replied he, will too much gratify her pride, and look like a slight to you.

—Dear sir, said I, your goodness is too great, for me to want punctilious proofs of it.

Pray oblige her ladyship.

She is your guest surely, sir, you may be freest with your dutiful wife!

She is a strange woman, said he: How I pity her!

—She has thrown herself into a violent fit of the colic, through passion: And is but now, her woman says, a little easier.

I hope, sir, said I, when you carried her ladyship out, you did not hurt her.

No, replied he, I love her too well.

I set her down in the apartment she had chosen: and she but now desires to see me, and that I will breakfast with her, or refuses to touch any thing.

But, if my dearest please, I will insist it shall be with you at the same time.

O, no, no, dear sir!

said I; I should not forgive myself, if I did.

I

would on my knees beg her ladyship’s goodness to me, now I am in your presence; though I thought I ought to carry it a little stiff when you were absent, for the sake of the honour you have done me.

And, dear sir, if my deepest humility will please, permit me to shew it.

You shall do nothing, returned he, unworthy of my wife, to please the proud woman!

—But I will, however, permit you to breakfast by yourself this once, as I have not seen her since I have used her in so barbarous a manner, as I understand she exclaims I have; and as she will not eat any thing, unless I give her my company.

—So he saluted me, and withdrew; and I locked the door after him again for fear.

Mrs. Jewkes soon after rapped at the door.

Who’s there?

said I. Only I, madam.

So I opened the door.

’Tis a sad thing, madam, said she, you should be so much afraid in your own house.

She brought me some chocolate and toast; and I asked her about my lady’s behaviour.

She said, she would not suffer any body to attend but her woman, because she would not be heard what she had to say; but she believed, she said, her master was very angry with the young lord, as she called her kinsman; for, as she passed by the door, she heard him say, in a high tone, I hope, sir, you did not forget what belongs to the character you assume; or to that effect.

About one o’clock my master came up again, and he said, Will you come down to dinner, Pamela, when I send for you?

Whatever you command, sir, I must do.

But my lady won’t desire to see me.

No matter whether she will or no. But I will not suffer, that she shall prescribe her insolent will to my wife, and in your own house too.

—I will, by my tenderness to you, mortify her pride; and it cannot be done so well as to her face.

Dearest sir, said I, pray indulge me, and let me dine here by myself.

It will make my lady but more inveterate.

—Said he, I have told her we are married.

She is out of all patience about it, and yet pretends not to believe it.

Upon that I tell her, Then she shall have it her own way, and that I am not.

And what has she to do with it either way?

She has scolded and begged, commanded and prayed, blessed me, and cursed me, by turns, twenty times in these few hours.

And I have sometimes soothed her, sometimes raged; and at last left her, and took a turn in the garden for an hour to compose myself, because you should not see how the foolish woman has ruffled me; and just now I came out, seeing her coming in.

Just as he had said so, I cried, Oh!

my lady, my lady!

for I heard her voice in the chamber, saying, Brother, brother, one word with you—stopping in sight of the closet where I was.

He stepped out, and she went up to the window that looks towards the garden, and said, Mean fool that I am, to follow you up and down the house in this manner, though I am shunned and avoided by you!

You a brother!

—You a barbarian!

Is it possible we could be born of one mother?

Why, said he, do you charge me with a conduct to you, that you bring upon yourself?

—Is it not surprising that you should take the liberty with me, that the dear mother you have named never gave you an example for to any of her relations?

—Was it not sufficient, that I was insolently taken to task by you in your letters, but my retirements must be invaded?

My house insulted?

And, if I have one person dearer to me than another, that that person must be singled out for an object of your violence?

Ay, said she, that one person is the thing!

—But though I came with a resolution to be temperate, and to expostulate with you on your avoiding me so unkindly, yet cannot I have patience to look upon that bed in which I was born, and to be made the guilty scene of your wickedness with such a—— Hush!

said he, I charge you!

call not the dear girl by any name unworthy of her.

You know not, as I told you, her excellence; and I desire you’ll not repeat the freedoms you have taken below.

She stamped with her foot, and said, God give me patience!

So much contempt to a sister that loves you so well; and so much tenderness to a vile—— He put his hand before her mouth: Be silent, said he, once more, I charge you!

You know not the innocence you abuse so freely.

I ought not, neither will I bear it.

She sat down and fanned herself, and burst into tears, and such sobs of grief, or rather passion, that grieved me to hear; and I sat and trembled sadly.

He walked about the room in great anger; and at last said, Let me ask you, Lady Davers, why I am thus insolently to be called to account by you?

Am I not independent?

Am I not of age?

Am I not at liberty to please myself?

—Would to God, that, instead of a woman, and my sister, any man breathing had dared, whatever were his relation under that of a father, to give himself half the airs you have done!

—Why did you not send on this accursed errand your lord, who could write me such a letter as no gentleman should write, nor any gentleman tamely receive?

He should have seen the difference.

We all know, said she, that, since your Italian duel, you have commenced a bravo; and all your airs breathe as strongly of the manslayer as of the libertine.

This, said he, I will bear; for I have no reason to be ashamed of that duel, nor the cause of it; since it was to save a friend, and because it is levelled at myself only: but suffer not your tongue to take too great a liberty with my Pamela.

She interrupted him in a violent burst of passion.

If I bear this, said she, I can bear any thing!

—O the little strumpet!

—He interrupted her then, and said wrathfully, Begone, rageful woman!

begone this moment from my presence!

Leave my house this instant!

—I renounce you, and all relation to you!

and never more let me see your face, or call me brother!

And took her by the hand to lead her out.

She laid hold of the curtains of the window, and said, I will not go!

You shall not force me from you thus ignominiously in the wretch’s hearing, and suffer her to triumph over me in your barbarous treatment of me.

Not considering any thing, I ran out of the closet, and threw myself at my dear master’s feet, as he held her hand, in order to lead her out;

and I said, Dearest sir, let me beg, that no act of unkindness, for my sake, pass between so worthy and so near relations.

Dear, dear madam, said I, and clasped her knees, pardon and excuse the unhappy cause of all this evil; on my knees I beg your ladyship to receive me to your grace and favour, and you shall find me incapable of any triumph but in your ladyship’s goodness to me.

Creature, said she, art thou to beg an excuse for me?

—Art thou to implore my forgiveness?

Is it to thee I am to owe the favour, that I am not cast headlong from my brother’s presence?

Begone to thy corner, wench!

begone, I say, lest thy paramour kill me for trampling thee under my foot!

Rise, my dear Pamela, said my master; rise, dear life of my life; and expose not so much worthiness to the ungrateful scorn of so violent a spirit.

And so he led me to my closet again, and there I sat and wept.

Her woman came up, just as he had led me to my closet, and was returning to her lady; and she very humbly said, Excuse my intrusion, good sir!

—I hope I may come to my lady.

Yes, Mrs. Worden, said he, you may come in; and pray take your lady down stairs with you, for fear I should too much forget what belongs either to my sister or myself!

I began to think (seeing her ladyship so outrageous with her brother) what a happy escape I had had the day before, though hardly enough used in conscience too, as I thought.

Her woman begged her ladyship to walk down; and she said, Beck, seest thou that bed?

That was the bed that I was born in; and yet that was the bed thou sawest, as well as I, the wicked Pamela in, this morning, and this brother of mine just risen from her!

True, said he; you both saw it, and it is my pride that you could see it.

’Tis my bridal bed; and ’tis abominable that the happiness I knew before you came hither, should be so barbarously interrupted.

Swear to me but, thou bold wretch!

said she, swear to me, that Pamela Andrews is really and truly thy lawful wife, without sham, without deceit, without double-meaning; and I know what I have to say!

I’ll humour you for once, said he; and then swore a solemn oath that I was.

And, said he, did I not tell you so at first?

I cannot yet believe you, said she; because, in this particular, I had rather have called you knave than fool.

—Provoke me not too much, said he; for, if I should as much forget myself as you have done, you’d have no more of a brother in me, than I have a sister in you.

Who married you?

said she: tell me that!

Was it not a broken attorney in a parson’s habit?

Tell me truly, in the wench’s hearing.

When she’s undeceived, she’ll know how to behave herself better!

Thank God, thought I, it is not so.

No, said he; and I’ll tell you, that I bless God, I abhorred that project, before it was brought to bear: and Mr. Williams married us.

—Nay then, said she—but answer me another question or two, I beseech you: Who gave her away?

Parson Peters, said he.

Where was the ceremony performed?

In my little chapel, which you may see, as it was put in order on purpose.

Now, said she, I begin to fear there is something in it!

But who was present?

said she.

Methinks, replied he, I look like a fine puppy, to suffer myself to be thus interrogated by an insolent sister: but, if you must know, Mrs. Jewkes was present.

O the procuress!

said she: But nobody else?

Yes, said he, all my heart and soul!

Wretch!

said she; and what would thy father and mother have said, had they lived to this day?

Their consents, replied he, I should have thought it my duty to ask; but not yours, madam.

Suppose, said she, I had married my father’s groom!

what would you have said to that?

—I could not have behaved worse, replied he, than you have done.

And would you not have thought, said she, I had deserved it.

Said he, Does your pride let you see no difference in the case you put?

None at all, said she.

Where can the difference be between a beggar’s son married by a lady, or a beggar’s daughter made a gentleman’s wife?

Then I’ll tell you, replied he; the difference is, a man ennobles the woman he takes, be she who she will; and adopts her into his own rank, be it what it will: but a woman, though ever so nobly born, debases herself by a mean marriage, and descends from her own rank to his she stoops to.

When the royal family of Stuart allied itself into the low family of Hyde, (comparatively low, I mean,) did any body scruple to call the lady, Royal Highness, and Duchess of York?

And did any body think her daughters, the late Queen Mary and Queen Anne, less royal for that?

When the broken-fortuned peer goes into the city to marry a rich tradesman’s daughter, be he duke or earl, does not his consort immediately become ennobled by his choice?

and who scruples to call her lady, duchess, or countess?

But when a duchess or countess dowager descends to mingle with a person of obscure birth, does she not then degrade herself?

and is she not effectually degraded?

And will any duchess or countess rank with her?

Now, Lady Davers, do you not see a difference between my marrying my dear mother’s beloved and deserving waiting-maid, with a million of excellencies about her, and such graces of mind and person as would adorn any distinction; and your marrying a sordid groom, whose constant train of education, conversation, and opportunities, could possibly give him no other merit, than that which must proceed from the vilest, lowest taste, in his sordid dignifier?

O the wretch!

said she, how he finds excuses to palliate his meanness!

Again, said he, let me observe to you, Lady Davers, When a duke marries a private person, is he not still her head, by virtue of being her husband?

But, when a lady descends to marry a groom, is not the groom her head, being her husband?

And does not the difference strike you?

For what lady of quality ought to respect another, who has made so sordid a choice, and set a groom above her?

For, would not that be to put that groom upon a par with themselves?

—Call this palliation, or what you will; but if you see not the difference, you are blind; and a very unfit judge for yourself, much more unfit to be a censurer of me.

I’d have you, said she, publish your fine reasons to the world, and they will be sweet encouragements to all the young gentlemen who read them to cast themselves away on the servant-wenches in their families.

Not at all, Lady Davers, replied he: For, if any young gentleman stays till he finds such a person as my Pamela, so enriched with the beauties of person and mind, so well accomplished, and so fitted to adorn the degree she is raised to, he will stand as easily acquitted, as I shall be to all the world that sees her, except there be many more Lady Davers than I apprehend can possibly be met with.

And so, returned she, you say you are actually and really married, honestly, or rather foolishly married, to this slut?

I am, indeed, says he, if you presume to call her so!

And why should I not, if I please?

Who is there ought to contradict me?

Whom have I hurt by it?

—Have I not an estate, free and independent?

—Am I likely to be beholden to you, or any of my relations?

And why, when I have a sufficiency in my own single hands, should I scruple to make a woman equally happy, who has all I want?

For beauty, virtue, prudence, and generosity too, I will tell you, she has more than any lady I ever saw.

Yes, Lady Davers, she has all these naturally; they are born with her;

and a few years’ education, with her genius, has done more for her, than a whole life has done for others.

No more, no more, I beseech you, said she; thou surfeitest me, honest man!

with thy weak folly.

Thou art worse than an idolater; thou hast made a graven image, and thou fallest down and worshippest the works of thy own hands; and, Jeroboam-like, wouldst have every body else bow down before thy calf!

Well said, Lady Davers!

Whenever your passion suffers you to descend to witticism; ’tis almost over with you.

But let me tell you, though I myself worship this sweet creature, that you call such names, I want nobody else to do it; and should be glad you had not intruded upon me, to interrupt me in the course of our mutual happiness.

Well said, well said, my kind, my well-mannered brother!

said she.

I

shall, after this, very little interrupt your mutual happiness, I’ll assure you.

I thought you a gentleman once, and prided myself in my brother: But I’ll say now with the burial service, Ashes to ashes, and dirt to dirt!

Ay, said he, Lady Davers, and there we must all end at last; you with all your pride, and I with my plentiful fortune, must come to it; and then where will be your distinction?

Let me tell you, except you and I both mend our manners, though you have been no duellist, no libertine, as you call me, this amiable girl, whom your vanity and folly so much despise, will out-soar us both, infinitely out-soar us; and he who judges best, will give the preference where due, without regard to birth or fortune.

Egregious preacher!

said she: What, my brother already turned Puritan!

—See what marriage and repentance may bring a man to!

I

heartily congratulate this change!

—Well, said she, (and came towards me, and I trembled to see her coming; but her brother followed to observe her, and I stood up at her approach, and she said,) give me thy hand, Mrs. Pamela, Mrs. Andrews, Mrs. what shall I call thee?

—Thou hast done wonders in a little time; thou hast not only made a rake a husband but thou hast made a rake a preacher!

But take care, added she, after all, in ironical anger, and tapped me on the neck, take care that thy vanity begins not where his ends; and that thou callest not thyself my sister.

She shall, I hope, Lady Davers, said he, when she can make as great a convert of you from pride, as she has of me, from libertinism.

Mrs. Jewkes just then came up, and said dinner was ready.

Come, my Pamela, said my dear master; you desired to be excused from breakfasting with us; but I hope you’ll give Lady Davers and me your company to dinner.

How dare you insult me thus?

said my lady.

—How dare you, said he, insult me by your conduct in my own house, after I have told you I am married?

How dare you think of staying here one moment, and refuse my wife the honours that belong to her as such?

Merciful God!

said she, give me patience!

and held her hand to her forehead.

Pray, sir, dear sir, said I, excuse me, don’t vex my lady:—Be silent, my dear love, said he; you see already what you have got by your sweet condescension.

You have thrown yourself at her feet, and, insolent as she is, she has threatened to trample upon you.

She’ll ask you, presently, if she is to owe her excuse to your interposition?

and yet nothing else can make her forgiven.

Poor lady, she could not bear this; and, as if she was discomposed, she ran to her poor grieved woman, and took hold of her hand, and said, Lead me down, lead me down, Beck!

Let us instantly quit this house, this cursed house, that once I took pleasure in!

Order the fellows to get ready, and I will never see it, nor its owner, more.

And away she went down stairs, in a great hurry.

And the servants were ordered to make ready for their departure.

I saw my master was troubled, and I went to him, and said, Pray, dear sir, follow my lady down, and pacify her.

’Tis her love to you.

—Poor woman!

said he, I am concerned for her!

But I insist upon your coming down, since things are gone so far.

Her pride will get new strength else, and we shall be all to begin again.

Dearest, dear sir, said I, excuse my going down this once!

Indeed, my dear, I won’t, replied he.

What!

shall it be said, that my sister shall scare my wife from my table, and I present?

—No, I have borne too much already; and so have you: And I charge you come down when I send for you.

He departed, saying these words, and I durst not dispute; for I saw he was determined.

And there is as much majesty as goodness in him, as I have often had reason to observe; though never more than on the present occasion with his sister.

Her ladyship instantly put on her hood and gloves, and her woman tied up a handkerchief full of things; for her principal matters were not unpacked; and her coachman got her chariot ready, and her footmen their horses; and she appeared resolved to go.

But her kinsman and Mr. Colbrand had taken a turn together, somewhere;

and she would not come in, but sat fretting on a seat in the fore-yard, with her woman by her; and, at last, said to one of the footmen, Do you, James, stay to attend my nephew; and we’ll take the road we came.

Mrs. Jewkes went to her ladyship, and said, Your ladyship will be pleased to stay dinner; ’tis just coming upon table?

No, said she, I have enough of this house; I have indeed.

But give my service to your master, and I wish him happier than he has made me.

He had sent for me down, and I came, though unwillingly, and the cloth was laid in the parlour I had jumped out of; and there was my master walking about it.

Mrs. Jewkes came in, and asked, if he pleased to have dinner brought in?

for my lady would not come in, but desired her service, and wished him happier than he had made her.

He, seeing her at the window, when he went to that side of the room, all ready to go, stept out to her, and said, Lady Davers, if I thought you would not be hardened, rather than softened, by my civility, I would ask you to walk in; and, at least, let your kinsman and servants dine before they go.

She wept, and turned her face from him, to hide it.

He took her hand, and said, Come, sister, let me prevail upon you: Walk in.

No, said she, don’t ask me.

—I wish I could hate you, as much as you hate me!

—You do, said he, and a great deal more, I’ll assure you; or else you’d not vex me as you do.

—Come, pray walk in.

Don’t ask me, said she.

Her kinsman just then returned: Why, madam, said he, your ladyship won’t go till you have dined, I hope.

No, Jackey, said she, I can’t stay; I’m an intruder here, it seems!

—Think, said my master, of the occasion you gave for that word.

Your violent passions are the only intruders!

Lay them aside, and never sister was dearer to a brother.

Don’t say such another word, said she, I beseech you; for I am too easy to forgive you any thing for one kind word!

—You shall have one hundred, said he, nay, ten thousand, if they will do, my dear sister.

And, kissing her, he added, Pray give me your hand.

John, said he, put up the horses; you are all as welcome to me, for all your lady’s angry with me, as at any inn you can put up at.

Come, Mr. H——, said he, lead your aunt in; for she won’t permit that honour to me.

This quite overcame her; and she said, giving her brother her hand, Yes, I will, and you shall lead me any where!