Pamela by Samuel Richardson (the false prince series TXT) 📖

people never think what a short stage life is; and that, with all their vanity; a time is coming, when they shall be obliged to submit to be on a level with us: And true said the philosopher, when he looked upon the skull of a king, and that of a poor man, that he saw no difference between them. Besides, do they not know, that the richest of princes, and the poorest of beggars, are to have one great and tremendous judge, at the last day; who will not distinguish between them, according to their circumstances in life?—But, on the contrary, may make their condemnations the greater, as their neglected opportunities were the greater? Poor souls! how do I pity their pride!— O keep me, Heaven! from their high condition, if my mind shall ever be tainted with their vice! or polluted with so cruel and inconsiderate a contempt of the humble estate which they behold with so much scorn!

But, besides, how do these gentry know, that, supposing they could trace back their ancestry for one, two, three, or even five hundred years, that then the original stems of these poor families, though they have not kept such elaborate records of their good-for nothingness, as it often proves, were not still deeper rooted?—And how can they be assured, that one hundred years hence, or two, some of those now despised upstart families may not revel in their estates, while their descendants may be reduced to the others’ dunghills!—And, perhaps, such is the vanity, as well as changeableness, of human estates, in their turns set up for pride of family, and despise the others!

These reflections occurred to my thoughts, made serious by my master’s indisposition, and this proud letter of the lowly Lady Davers, against the high-minded Pamela. Lowly, I say, because she could stoop to such vain pride; and high-minded I, because I hope I am too proud ever to do the like!—But, after all, poor wretches that we be! we scarce know what we are, much less what we shall be!—But, once more pray I to be kept from the sinful pride of a high estate.

On this occasion I recall the following lines, which I have read; where the poet argues in a much better manner:—

“––––Wise Providence Does various parts for various minds dispense: The meanest slaves, or those who hedge and ditch, Are useful, by their sweat, to feed the rich. The rich, in due return, impart their store; Which comfortably feeds the lab’ring poor. Nor let the rich the lowest slave disdain: He’s equally a link of Nature’s chain: Labours to the same end, joins in one view; And both alike the will divine pursue; And, at the last, are levell’d, king and slave, Without distinction, in the silent grave.”

 

Wednesday morning.

My master sent me a message just now, that he was so much better, that he would take a turn, after breakfast, in the chariot, and would have me give him my company. I hope I shall know how to be humble, and comport myself as I should do, under all these favours.

Mrs. Jewkes is one of the most obliging creatures in the world; and I have such respects shewn me by every one, as if I was as great as Lady Davers—But now, if this should all end in the sham-marriage!—It cannot be, I hope. Yet the pride of greatness and ancestry, and such-like, is so strongly set out in Lady Davers’s letter, that I cannot flatter myself to be so happy as all these desirable appearances make for me. Should I be now deceived, I should be worse off than ever. But I shall see what light this new honour will procure me!—So I’ll get ready. But I won’t, I think, change my garb. Should I do it, it would look as if I would be nearer on a level with him: and yet, should I not, it might be thought a disgrace to him: but I will, I think, open the portmanteau, and, for the first time since I came hither, put on my best silk nightgown. But then that will be making myself a sort of right to the clothes I had renounced; and I am not yet quite sure I shall have no other crosses to encounter. So I will go as I am; for, though ordinary, I am as clean as a penny, though I say it. So I’ll e’en go as I am, except he orders otherwise. Yet Mrs. Jewkes says, I ought to dress as fine as I can.—But I say, I think not. As my master is up, and at breakfast, I will venture down to ask him how he will have me be.

Well, he is kinder and kinder, and, thank God, purely recovered!—How charmingly he looks, to what he did yesterday! Blessed be God for it!

He arose, and came to me, and took me by the hand, and would set me down by him; and he said, My charming girl seemed going to speak. What would you say?—Sir, said I, (a little ashamed,) I think it is too great an honour to go into the chariot with you. No, my dear Pamela, said he; the pleasure of your company will be greater than the honour of mine; and so say no more on that head.

But, sir, said I, I shall disgrace you to go thus. You would grace a prince, my fair-one, said the good, kind, kind gentleman! in that dress, or any you shall choose: And you look so pretty, that, if you shall not catch cold in that round-eared cap, you shall go just as you are. But, sir, said I, then you’ll be pleased to go a bye-way, that it mayn’t be seen you do so much honor to your servant. O my good girl! said he, I doubt you are afraid of yourself being talked of, more than me: for I hope by degrees to take off the world’s wonder, and teach them to expect what is to follow, as a due to my Pamela.

O the dear good man! There’s for you, my dear father and mother!—Did I not do well now to come back?—O could I get rid of my fears of this sham-marriage, (for all this is not yet inconsistent with that frightful scheme,) I should be too happy!

So I came up, with great pleasure, for my gloves: and now wait his kind commands. Dear, dear sir! said I to myself, as if I was speaking to him, for God’s sake let me have no more trials and reverses; for I could not bear it now, I verily think!

At last the welcome message came, that my master was ready; and so I went down as fast as I could; and he, before all the servants, handed me in, as if I was a lady; and then came in himself. Mrs. Jewkes begged he would take care he did not catch cold, as he had been ill. And I had the pride to hear his new coachman say, to one of his fellow-servants, They are a charming pair, I am sure! ‘tis pity they should be parted!—O my dear father and mother! I fear your girl will grow as proud as any thing! And, especially, you will think I have reason to guard against it, when you read the kind particulars I am going to relate.

He ordered dinner to be ready by two; and Abraham, who succeeds John, went behind the coach. He bid Robin drive gently, and told me, he wanted to talk to me about his sister Davers, and other matters. Indeed, at first setting out he kissed me a little too often, that he did; and I was afraid of Robin’s looking back, through the fore-glass, and people seeing us, as they passed; but he was exceedingly kind to me, in his words, as well. At last, he said,

You have, I doubt not, read, over and over, my sister’s saucy letter; and find, as I told you, that you are no more obliged to her than I am. You see she intimates, that some people had been with her; and who should they be, but the officious Mrs. Jervis, and Mr. Longman, and Jonathan! and so that has made me take the measures I did in dismissing them my service.—I see, said he, you are going to speak on their behalfs; but your time is not come to do that, if ever I shall permit it.

My sister, says he, I have been beforehand with; for I have renounced her. I am sure I have been a kind brother to her; and gave her to the value of 3000l. more than her share came to by my father’s will, when I entered upon my estate. And the woman, surely, was beside herself with passion and insolence, when she wrote me such a letter; for well she knew I would not bear it. But you must know, Pamela, that she is much incensed, that I will give no ear to a proposal of hers, of a daughter of my Lord –-, who, said he, neither in person, or mind, or acquirements, even with all her opportunities, is to be named in a day with my Pamela. But yet you see the plea, my girl, which I made to you before, of the pride of condition, and the world’s censure, which, I own, sticks a little too close with me still: for a woman shines not forth to the public as man; and the world sees not your excellencies and perfections: If it did, I should entirely stand acquitted by the severest censures. But it will be taken in the lump; that here is Mr. B–-, with such and such an estate, has married his mother’s waiting-maid: not considering there is not a lady in the kingdom that can out-do her, or better support the condition to which she will be raised, if I should marry her. And, said he, putting his arm round me, and again kissing me, I pity my dear girl too, for her part in this censure; for, here will she have to combat the pride and slights of the neighbouring gentry all around us. Sister Davers, you see, will never be reconciled to you. The other ladies will not visit you; and you will, with a merit superior to them all, be treated as if unworthy their notice. Should I now marry my Pamela, how will my girl relish all this? Won’t these be cutting things to my fair-one? For, as to me, I shall have nothing to do, but, with a good estate in possession, to brazen out the matter of my former pleasantry on this subject, with my companions of the chase, the green, and the assemblee; stand their rude jests for once or twice, and my fortune will create me always respect enough, I warrant you. But, I say, what will my poor girl do, as to her part, with her own sex? For some company you must keep. My station will not admit it to be with my servants; and the ladies will fly your acquaintance; and still, though my wife, will treat you as my mother’s waiting-maid.—What says my girl to this?

You may well guess, my dear father and mother, how transporting these kind, these generous and condescending sentiments were to me!—I thought I had the harmony of the spheres all around me; and every word that dropped from his lips was as sweet as the honey of Hybla to me.—Oh! sir, said I, how inexpressibly kind and good is all this! Your poor servant has a much greater struggle than this to go through, a more knotty difficulty to overcome.

What is that? said he, a little impatiently: I will not forgive your doubts now.—No, sir, said I, I cannot doubt; but