Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, the 32d, 33d, and 34th Days of my Imprisonment.

Nothing offers these Days but Squabblings between Mrs. Jewkes and me. She grows worse and worse to me. I vexed her yesterday, because she talked nastily, and told her she talk’d more like a vile London Prostitute, than a Gentleman’s Housekeeper; and she cannot use me bad enough for it. Bless me! she curses and storms at me like a Trooper, and can hardly keep her Hands off me. You may believe she must talk sadly to make me say such harsh Words: Indeed it cannot be repeated; and she is a Disgrace to her Sex. And then she ridicules me, and laughs at my Notions of Honesty; and tells me, impudent Creature that she is! what a fine Bedfellow I shall make for my Master, and such-like, with such whimsical Notions about me!—Do you think this is to be borne? And yet she talks worse than this, if possible!—Quite filthily! O what vile Hands am I put into!

Thursday.

I Have now all the Reason that can be, to apprehend my Master will be here soon; for the Servants are all busy in setting the House to rights; and a Stable and Coach-house are cleaning out, that have not been us’d some time. I ask Mrs. Jewkes; but she tells me nothing, nor will hardly answer me when I ask her a Question. Sometimes I think she puts on these strange wicked Airs to me, purposely to make me wish for what I dread most of all Things, my Master’s coming down. He talk of Love!—If he had any the least Notion of Regard for me, to be sure he would not give this naughty Body such Power over me:—And if he does come, where is his Promise of not seeing me without I consent to it? But it seems His Honour owes me nothing! So he tells me in his Letter; and why? Because I am willing to keep mine. But, indeed, he says, he hates me perfectly; and it is plain he does, or I should not be left to the Mercy of this Woman; and, what is worse, to my woful Apprehensions.

Friday, the 36th Day of my Imprisonment.

I Took the Liberty yesterday Afternoon, finding the Gates open, to walk out before the House; and before I was aware, had got to the Bottom of the long Row of Elms; and there I sat myself down upon the Steps of a sort of broad Stile, which leads into the Road, that goes towards the Town. And as I sat musing about what always busies my Mind, I saw a whole Body of Folks, running towards me from the House, Men and Women, as in a Fright. At first I wonder’d what was the Matter, till they came nearer; and I found they were all alarm’d, thinking I had attempted to get off. There was first the horrible Colbrand, running with his long Legs, well nigh two Yards at a Stride; then there was one of the Grooms, poor Mr. Williams’s Robber; then I spy’d Nan, half out of Breath; and the Cook-maid after her; and lastly, came waddling, as fast as she could, Mrs. Jewkes, exclaiming most bitterly, as I found, against me. Colbrand said, O how have you frighted us all!—And went behind me, lest I should run away, as I suppose.

I sat still, to let them see I had no View to get away; for, besides the Improbability of succeeding, my last sad Attempt had cur’d me of enterprizing again. And when Mrs. Jewkes came within hearing, I found her terribly incens’d, and raving about my Contrivances. Why, said I, should you be so concerned? Here I have sat a few Minutes, and had not the least Thought of getting away, or going further; but to return as soon as it was duskish. She would not believe me; and the barbarous Creature struck at me with her horrid Fist, and, I believe, would have felled me, had not Colbrand interposed, and said, He saw me sitting still, looking about me, and not seeming to have the least Inclination to stir. But this would not serve: She order’d the two Maids to take me each by an Arm, and lead me back into the House, and up Stairs; and there have I been locked up ever since, without Shoes. In vain have I pleaded that I had no Design, as, indeed I had not the least; and, last Night I was forced to lie between her and Nan; and I find she is resolved to make a Handle of this against me, and in her own Behalf.—Indeed, what with her Usage, and my own Apprehensions of still worse, I am quite weary of my Life.

Just now she has been with me, and given me my Shoes, and has laid her imperious Commands upon me, to dress myself in a Suit of Cloaths out of the Portmanteau, which I have not seen lately, against three or four o’Clock; for, she says, she is to have a Visit from Lady Darnford’s two Daughters, who come purposely to see me; and so she gave me the Key of the Portmanteau. But I will not obey her; and I told her I would not be made a Shew of, nor see the Ladies. She left me, saying, It should be worse for me, if I did not. But how can that be?

Saturday Morning.

Now let me give you an Account of what passed last Night; for I had no Power to write, nor yet Opportunity, till now.

This naughty Woman held my Master till half an Hour after seven; and he came hither about five in the Afternoon. And then I heard his Voice on the Stairs, as he was coming up to me. It was about his Supper; for he said, I shall chuse a boil’d Chicken, with Butter and Parsley.—And up he came!

He put on a stern and majestick Air; and he can look very majestick when he pleases. Well, perverse Pamela, ungrateful Runaway, said he, for my first Salutation!—You do well, don’t you, to give me all this Trouble and Vexation? I could not speak; but throwing myself on the Floor, hid my Face, and was ready to die with Grief and Apprehension.—He said, Well may you hide your Face! well may you be ashamed to see me, vile forward one, as you are!—I sobb’d, and wept, but could not speak. And he let me lie, and went to the Door, and called Mrs. Jewkes.—There, said he, take up that fallen Angel!—Once I thought her as innocent as one!—But I have now no Patience with her. The little Hypocrite prostrates herself thus, in hopes to move my Weakness in her Favour, and that I’ll raise her from the Floor myself. But I shall not touch her: No, said he, cruel Gentleman as he was! let such Fellows as Williams be taken in by her artful Wiles; I know her now, and see that she is for any Fool’s Turn, that will be caught by her.

I sighed, as if my Heart would break!—And Mrs. Jewkes lifted me up upon my Knees; for I trembled so, I could not stand. Come, said she, Mrs. Pamela, learn to know your best Friend; confess your unworthy Behaviour, and beg his Honour’s Forgiveness of all your Faults. I was ready to faint; and he said, She is Mistress of Arts, I’ll assure you; and will mimick a Fit, ten to one, in a Minute.

I was struck to the Heart at this; but could not speak presently; only lifted up my Eyes to Heaven!—And at last made shift to say—God forgive you, Sir!—He seem’d in a great Passion, and walked up and down the Room, casting sometimes an Eye to me, and seeming as if he would have spoken, but check’d himself.—And at last he said, When she has acted this her first Part over, perhaps I will see her again, and she shall soon know what she has to trust to.

And so he went out of the Room: And I was quite sick at Heart!—Surely, said I, I am the wickedest Creature that ever breath’d! Well, said the Impertinent, not so wicked as that neither; but I am glad you begin to see your Faults. Nothing like being humble!—Come, I’ll stand your Friend, and plead for you, if you’ll promise to be more dutiful for the future: Come, come, added the Wretch, this may be all made up by to-morrow Morning, if you are not a Fool.—Begone, hideous Woman! said I; and let not my Afflictions be added to by thy inexorable Cruelty, and unwomanly Wickedness!

She gave me a Push, and went away in a violent Passion. And it seems, she made a Story of this; and said, I had such a Spirit, there was no bearing it.

I laid me down on the Floor, and had no Power to stir, till the Clock struck Nine; and then the wicked Woman came up again. You must come down Stairs, said she, to my Master; that is, if you please, Spirit!—Said I, I believe I cannot stand. Then, said she, I’ll send Monsieur Colbrand to carry you down.

I got up, as well as I could, and trembled all the way down Stairs. And she went before me into the Parlour; and a new Servant, that he had waiting on him instead of John, withdrew as soon as I came in.

I thought, said he, when I came down, you should have sat at Table with me, when I had not Company; but when I find you cannot forget your Original, but must prefer my Menials to me, I call you down to wait on me, while I sup, that I may have a little Talk with you, and throw away as little Time as possible upon you.

Sir, said I, you do me Honour to wait upon you—And I never shall, I hope, forget my Original. But I was forced to stand behind his Chair, that I might hold by it. Fill me, said he, a Glass of that Burgundy. I went to do it; but my Hand shook so, that I could not hold the Plate with the Glass in it, and spilt some of the Wine. So Mrs. Jewkes pour’d it for me, and I carry’d it as well as I could; and made a low Curchee. He took it, and said, Stand behind me, out of my Sight!

Why, Mrs. Jewkes, said he, you tell me, she remains very sullen still, and eats nothing. No, said she, not so much as will keep Life and Soul together.—And is always crying, you say, too? said he. Yes, Sir, said she, I think she is, for one thing or another. Ay, said he, your young Wenches will feed upon their Tears; and their Obstinacy will serve them for Meat and Drink. I think I never saw her look better, tho’, in my Life!—But I suppose she lives upon Love. This sweet Mr. Williams, and her little villainous Plots together, have kept her alive and well, to be sure. For Mischief, Love, and Contradiction, are the natural Aliments of a Woman.

Poor I was forced to hear all this, and be silent; and indeed my Heart was too full to speak.

And so you say, said he, that she had another Project, but Yesterday, to get away? She denies it herself, said she; but it had all the Appearance of one. I’m sure she made me in a fearful Pucker about it. And I am glad your Honour is come, with all my Heart; and I hope, whatever be your Honour’s Intention concerning her, you will not be long about it; for you’ll find her as slippery as an Eel, I’ll assure you!

Sir, said I, and clasped his Knees with my Arms, not knowing what I did, and falling on my Knees, Have Mercy on me, and hear me, concerning that wicked Woman’s Usage of me.—

He cruelly interrupted me, and said, I am satisfy’d she has done her Duty: It signifies nothing what you say against Mrs. Jewkes. That you are here, little Hypocrite as you are, pleading your Cause before me, is owing to her Care of you; else you had been with the Parson.—Wicked Girl! said he, to tempt a Man to undo himself, as you have done him, at a Time when I was on the Point of making him happy for his Life!

I arose, but said, with a deep Sigh, I have done, Sir, I have done! I have a strange Tribunal to plead before. The poor Sheep, in the Fable, had such an one; when it was try’d before the Vultur, on the Accusation of the Wolf19

So, Mrs. Jewkes, said he, you are the Wolf, I the Vultur, and this the poor innocent Lamb, on her Trial before us.—Oh! you don’t know how well this Innocent is read in Reflection. She has Wit at Will, when she has a mind to display her own romantick Innocence, at the Price of other People’s Characters.

Well, said the aggravating Creature, this is nothing to what she has called me; I have been a Jezebel, a London Prostitute, and what not?—But I am contented with her ill Names, now I see it is her Fashion, and she can call your Honour a Vultur.

Said I, I had no Thought of comparing my Master—And was going to say on: But he said, Don’t prate, Girl!—No, said she, it don’t become you, I’ll assure you.

Well, said I, since I must not speak, I will hold my Peace: But there is a righteous Judge, who knows the Secrets of all Hearts!20 and to him I appeal.

See there! said he: Now this meek, good Creature is praying for Fire from Heaven upon us! O she can curse most heartily, in the Spirit of Christian Meekness, I’ll assure you!—Come, Sawcy-face, give me another Glass of Wine!

So I did, as well as I could; but wept so, that he said, I suppose I shall have some of your Tears in my Wine!

When he had supp’d, he stood up, and said, O how happy for you it is, that you can, at Will, thus make your speaking Eyes overflow in this manner, without losing any of their Brilliancy! you have been told, I suppose, that you are most beautiful in your Tears!—Did you ever, said he to her, (who all this while was standing in one Corner of the Parlour) see a more charming Creature than this? Is it to be wonder’d at, that I demean myself thus to take Notice of her!—See, said he, and took the Glass with one Hand, and turn’d me round with the other, What a Shape! what a Neck! what a Hand! and what a Bloom in that lovely Face!—But who can describe the Tricks and Artifices, that lie lurking in her little, plotting, guileful Heart! ’Tis no Wonder the poor Parson was infatuated with her!—I blame him less than her; for who could expect such Artifice in so young a Sorceress!

I went to the further Part of the Room, and held my Face against the Wainscot; and, in spite of all I could do to refrain crying, sobb’d, as if my Heart would break. He said, I am surpriz’d, Mrs. Jewkes, at the Mistake of the Letters you tell me of! But, you see, I am not afraid any body should read what I write. I don’t carry on private Correspondencies, and reveal every Secret that comes to my Knowledge, and then corrupt People to carry my Letters, against their Duty, and all good Conscience.

Come hither, Hussy, said he; you and I have a dreadful Reckoning to make.—Why don’t you come, when I bid you?—Fie upon it! Mrs. Pamela, said she, what! not stir, when his Honour commands you to come to him!—Who knows but his Goodness will forgive you?

He came to me, (for I had no Power to stir) and put his Arms about my Neck, and would kiss me; and said, Well, Mrs. Jewkes, if it were not for the Thought of this cursed Parson, I believe in my Heart, so great is my Weakness, that I could yet forgive this intriguing little Slut, and take her to my Bosom.

O, said the Sycophant, you are very good, Sir, very forgiving, indeed!—But come, added the profligate Wretch, I hope you will be so good, as to take her to your Bosom; and that, by to-morrow Morning, you’ll bring her to a better Sense of her Duty!

Could any thing, in Womanhood, be so vile! I had no Patience: But yet Grief and Indignation choaked up the Passage of my Words; and I could only stammer out a passionate Exclamation to Heaven, to protect my Innocence. But the Word was the Subject of their Ridicule. Was ever poor Creature worse beset!

He said, as if he had been considering whether he could forgive me or not, No, I cannot yet forgive her neither—She has given me great Disturbance; has brought great Discredit upon me, both abroad and at home; has corrupted all my Servants at the other House; has despised my honourable Views and Intentions to her, and sought to run away with this ingrateful Parson—And surely I ought not to forgive her all this!—Yet, with all this wretched Grimace, he kissed me again, and would have put his Hand in my Bosom; but I struggled, and said, I would die before I would be used thus.—Consider, Pamela, said he, in a threatening Tone, consider where you are! and don’t play the Fool: If you do, a more dreadful Fate awaits you than you expect. But, take her up Stairs, Mrs. Jewkes, and I’ll send a few Lines to her to consider of; and let me have your Answer, Pamela, in the Morning. Till then you have to resolve upon: And after that, your Doom is fix’d.—So I went up Stairs, and gave myself up to Grief and Expectation of what he would send: But yet I was glad of this Night’s Reprieve!

He sent me, however, nothing at all. And about Twelve o’Clock, Mrs. Jewkes and Nan came up, as the Night before, to be my Bedfellows; and I would go to-bed with two of my Petticoats on; which they mutter’d at sadly; and Mrs. Jewkes railed at me particularly: Indeed I would have sat up all Night, for Fear, if she would have let me. For I had but very little Rest that Night, apprehending this Woman would let my Master in. She did nothing but praise him, and blame me; but I answer’d her as little as I could.

He has Sir Simon Tell-tale, alias Darnford, to dine with him to-day, whose Family sent to welcome him into the Country; and it seems, the old Knight wants to see me; so I suppose I shall be sent for, as Samson21 was, to make Sport for him—Here I am, and must bear it all!

Twelve o’Clock Saturday Noon.

Just now he has sent me up, by Mrs. Jewkes, the following Proposals. So here are the honourable Intentions all at once laid open. They are, my dear Parents, to make me a vile kept Mistress: Which God, I hope, will always enable me to detest the Thoughts of. But you’ll see how they are accommodated to what I should have most lov’d, could I have honestly promoted it, your Welfare and Happiness. I have answer’d them, as you’ll, I’m sure, approve; and I am prepared for the worst: For tho’ I fear there will be nothing omitted to ruin me, and tho’ my poor Strength will not be able to defend me, yet I will be innocent of Crime in my Intention, and in the Sight of God; and to him leave the avenging of all my Wrongs, in his own good Time and Manner. I shall write to you my Answer against his Articles; and hope the best, tho’ I fear the worst. But if I should come home to you ruin’d and undone, and may not be able to look you in the Face; yet pity and inspirit the poor Pamela, to make her little Remnant of Life easy; for long I shall not survive my Disgrace. And you may be assured it shall not be my Fault, if it be my Misfortune.

I took a Copy of this for your Perusal, if I shall ever be so happy to see you again, my dear Parents (for I hope my Conduct shall be approved of by you); and at Night, when Sir Simon was gone, he sent for me down. Well, said he, have you considered my Proposals? Yes, Sir, said I, I have: And there is my Answer. But pray let me not see you read it. Is it your Bashfulness, said he, or your Obstinacy, that makes you not chuse I should read it before you?

I offer’d to go away; and he said, Don’t run from me; I won’t read it till you are gone. But, said he, tell me, Pamela, whether you comply with my Proposals, or not? Sir, said I, you will see presently; pray don’t hold me; for he took my Hand. Said he, Did you well consider before you answer’d?—I did, Sir, said I. If it be not what you think will please me, said he, dear Girl, take it back again, and reconsider it; for if I have this as your absolute Answer, and I don’t like it, you are undone; for I will not sue meanly, where I can command. I fear, said he, it is not what I like, by your Manner. And, let me tell you, That I cannot bear Denial. If the Terms I have offer’d are not sufficient, I will augment them to two Thirds of my Estate; for, said he, and swore a dreadful Oath, I cannot live without you: And since the thing is gone so far, I will not!—And so he clasped me in his Arms, in such a manner as quite frighted me; and kissed me two or three times.

I got from him, and run up Stairs, and went to the Closet, and was quite uneasy and fearful.

In an Hour’s time, he called Mrs. Jewkes down to him; and I heard him very high in Passion: And all about poor me! And I heard her say, It was his own Fault; there would be an End of all my Complaining and Perverseness, if he was once resolved; and other most impudent Aggravations. I am resolved not to go to-bed this Night, if I can help it—Lie still, lie still, my poor fluttering Heart!—what will become of me!

Almost Twelve o’Clock Saturday Night.

He sent Mrs. Jewkes, about Ten o’Clock, to tell me to come to him. Where? said I. I’ll shew you, said she. I went down three or four Steps, and saw her making to his Chamber, the Door of which was open: So I said, I cannot go there!—Don’t be foolish, said she; but come; no Harm will be done to you!—Well, said I, if I die, I cannot go there. I heard him say, Let her come, or it shall be worse for her. I can’t bear, said he, to speak to her myself!—Well, said I, I cannot come, indeed I cannot; and so I went up again into my Closet, expecting to be fetch’d by Force.

But she came up soon after, and bid me make haste to-bed: Said I, I will not go to-bed this Night, that’s certain!—Then, said she, you shall be made to come to-bed; and Nan and I will undress you. I knew neither Prayers nor Tears would move this wicked Woman: So, I said, I am sure you will let my Master in, and I shall be undone! Mighty Piece of Undone, she said! But he was too exasperated against me, to be so familiar with me, she would assure me—Ay, said she, you’ll be disposed of another way soon, I can tell you for your Comfort; And I hope your Husband will have your Obedience, tho’ nobody else can. No Husband in the World, said I, shall make me do an unjust or base thing.—She said, That would be soon try’d; and Nan coming in, What, said I, am I to have two Bedfellows again, these warm Nights? Yes, said she, Slippery-ones, you are, till you can have one good one instead of us. Said I, Mrs. Jewkes, don’t talk nastily to me. I see you are beginning again; and I shall affront you, may-be; for next to bad Actions, are bad Words, for they could not be spoken, if they were not in the Heart.—Come to-bed, Purity! said she. You are a Nonsuch, I suppose. Indeed, said I, I can’t come to-bed; and it will do you no harm to let me sit all Night in the great Chair. Nan, said she, undress my young Lady. If she won’t let you, I’ll help you: And if neither of us can do it quietly, we’ll call my Master to do it for us; tho’, said she, I think it an Office worthier of Monsieur Colbrand!—You are very wicked, said I. I know it, said she: I am a Jezebel, and a London Prostitute, you know. You did great Feats, said I, to tell my Master all this poor Stuff! But you did not tell him how you beat me: No, Lambkin, said she, (a Word I had not heard a good while) that I left for you to tell; and you was going to do it, if the Vultur had not taken the Wolf’s Part, and bid the poor innocent Lamb be silent!—Ay, said I, no matter for your Fleers, Mrs. Jewkes; tho’ I can have neither Justice nor Mercy here, and cannot be heard in my Defence, yet a Time will come, may-be, when I shall be heard, and when your own Guilt will strike you dumb—Ay, Spirit! said she; and the Vultur too! Must we both be dumb? Why that, Lambkin, will be pretty!—Then, said the wicked one, you’ll have all the Talk to yourself!—Then how will the Tongue of the pretty Lambkin bleat out Innocence, and Virtue, and Honesty, till the whole Trial be at an End!—You’re a wicked Woman, that’s certain, said I; and if you thought any thing of another World, could not talk thus. But no Wonder!—It shews what Hands I am got into!—Ay, so it does, said she; but I beg you’ll undress, and come to-bed, or I believe your Innocence won’t keep you from still worse Hands. I will come to bed, said I, if you will let me have the Keys in my own Hand; not else, if I can help it. Yes, said she, end then, hey! for another Contrivance, another Escape!—No, no, said I, all my Contrivances are over, I’ll assure you! Pray let me have the Keys, and I will come to-bed. She came to me, and took me in her huge Arms, as if I was a Feather; said she, I do this to shew you, what a poor Resistance you can make against me, if I pleased to exert myself; and so, Lambkin, don’t say to your Wolf, I won’t come to-bed!—And set me down, and tapped me on the Neck: Ah! said she, thou art a pretty Creature, it’s true; but so obstinate! so full of Spirit! If thy Strength was but answerable to that, thou wouldst run away with us all, and this great House too on thy Back! but undress, undress, I tell you.

Well, said I, I see my Misfortunes make you very merry, and very witty too: But I will love you, if you will humour me with the Keys of the Chamber-doors.—Are you sure you will love me, said she?—Now speak your Conscience!—Why, said I, you must not put it so close; neither would you, if you thought you had not given Reason to doubt it!—But I will love you as well as I can!—I would not tell a wilful Lye: And if I did, you would not believe me, after your hard Usage of me. Well, said she, that’s all fair, I own!—But Nan, pray pull off my young Lady’s Shoes and Stockens.—No, pray don’t, said I; I will come to-bed presently, since I must.

And so I went to the Closet, and scribbled a little about this idle Chit-chat. And she being importunate, I was forced to go to-bed; but with two of my Coats on, as the former Night; and she let me hold the two Keys; for there are two Locks, there being a double Door; and so I got a little Sleep that Night, having had none for two or three Nights before.

I can’t imagine what she means; but Nan offer’d to talk a little once or twice; and she snubbed her, and said, I charge you, Wench, don’t open your Lips before me! And if you are asked any Questions by Mrs. Pamela, don’t answer her one Word, while I am here!—But she is a lordly Woman to the Maid-servants, and that has always been her Character. O how unlike good Mrs. Jervis in every thing!