Mr. B Character Analysis

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 much griev’d for the loss of her; for she was a dear good lady, and kind to all us her servants.

I hope the good ’Squire has no Design: but when he has given you so much Money, and speaks so kindly to you, and praises your coming on; and, Oh, that fatal word! that he would be kind to you, if you would do as you should do, almost kills us with fears.

For I am watch’d, and such-like, very narrowly; and he says to Mrs. Jervis, This girl is always scribbling; I think she may be better employ’d.

I sobb’d and cry’d most sadly. What a foolish Hussy you are! said he: Have I done you any Harm? Yes, Sir, said I, the greatest Harm in the world: You have taught me to forget myself and what belongs to me, and have lessen’d the Distance that Fortune has made between us, by demeaning yourself, to be so free to a poor Servant.

Say no more, Mrs. Jervis; for by G—d I will have her!

Their Riches often are a Snare;
At best, a pamper’d weighty Care:
Their Servants far more happy are:
At least, so thinketh Pamela.

Why now, says she, how strangely you talk! Are not the two Sexes made for one another? And is it not natural for a Gentleman to love a pretty Woman? And suppose he can obtain his Desires, is that so bad as cutting her Throat? And then the Wretch fell a laughing, and talk’d most impertinently, and shew’d me, that I had nothing to expect from her Virtue or Conscience

Mr. Williams came to see us, and took a Walk with us once; and while her back was just turn’d, (encourag’d by the hint he had before given me,) I said, Sir, I see two Tiles upon that Parsley-bed; might not one cover them with Mould, with a Note between them, on Occasion?—A good Hint, said he; let that Sunflower by the Back-door of the Garden be the place; I have a Key to that; for it is my nearest way to the Town.

This Act of Despondency, thought I, is a Sin, that, if I pursue it, admits of no Repentance, and can therefore claim no Forgiveness.—And wilt thou, to shorten thy transitory Griefs, heavy as they are, and weak as thou fanciest thyself, plunge both Body and Soul into everlasting Misery! Hitherto, Pamela, thought I, thou art the innocent, the suffering Pamela; and wilt thou, to avoid thy sufferings, be the guilty Aggressor? And, because wicked Men persecute thee, wilt thou fly in the Face of the Almighty, and distrust his Grace and Goodness, who can still turn all these Sufferings to Benefits?

Fine clothes, sir, become not me; nor have I any ambition to wear them. I have greater pride in my poverty and meanness, than I should have in dress and finery.

Your poor Pamela cannot answer for the Liberties taken with her in her deplorable State of Death.

IF, my dear Parents, I am not destin’d more surely than ever for Ruin, I have now more Comfort before me, than ever I yet knew. And am either nearer my Happiness or my Misery than ever I was.

Now, said he, you are going—I boldly put my hand before his mouth, hardly knowing the liberty I took: Pray, sir, said I, don’t be angry; I have just done.

Since you so much prize your Honour, and your Virtue; since all Attempts against that are so odious to you; and since I have avowedly made several of these Attempts, do you think it is possible for you to love me preferably to any other of my Sex?

Odd! my pretty mistress, said she, you had best take care of yourself; for you are hard beset, I’ll assure you. You will never be married, I can see; and will die of your first child. Out upon thee, woman! said I, better thou hadst never come here.

Besides, said he, there is such a pretty air of romance, as you relate them, in your plots, and my plots, that I shall be better directed in what manner to wind up the catastrophe of the pretty novel.

This Letter, when I expected some new Plot, has affected me more than any thing of that Sort could have done. For here is plainly his great Value for me confess’d, and his rigorous Behaviour accounted for in such a Manner, as tortures me much.

I have no Will but yours, said I (all glowing like the Fire, as I could feel:) But, Sir, did you say in the House? Ay, said he; for I care not how privately it be done; and it must be very public if we go to Church. It is a Holy Rite, Sir, said I; and would be better, methinks, in a Holy Place.

My master kindly said, Come, Mr. Andrews, you and I will sit together. And so took his Place at the Bottom of the Table, and set my Father on his Right-hand; and Sir Simon would sit on his Left.

And thus, my dearest, dear Parents, is your happy, happy, thrice happy Pamela, at last, marry’d; and to who?—Why, to her beloved, gracious Master! The Lord of her Wishes!—And thus the dear, once naughty Assailer of her Innocence, by a blessed Turn of Providence, is become the kind, the generous Protector and Rewarder of it.

But canst thou have the Vanity, the Pride, the Folly, said she, to think thyself actually marry’d to my Brother?

’Tis even so, my Dear, replied he; and you remember my Sister’s good-natur’d Hint of Miss Sally Godfrey? I do well, sir, answered I. But this is Miss Goodwin. Her Mother chose that name for her, said he, because she should not be called by her own.

Oh! What a poor thing is human Life in its best Enjoyments!—subjected to imaginary Evils, when it has no real ones to disturb it!

Are all so many signal Instances of the Excellency of her mind, which may make her Character worthy of the Imitation of her Sex. And the Editor of these Sheets will have his End, if it inspires a laudable Emulation in the Minds of any worthy persons, who may thereby entitle themselves to the Rewards, the Praises, and the Blessings, by which she was so deservedly distinguished.

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 much griev’d for the loss of her; for she was a dear good lady, and kind to all us her servants.

I hope the good ’Squire has no Design: but when he has given you so much Money, and speaks so kindly to you, and praises your coming on; and, Oh, that fatal word! that he would be kind to you, if you would do as you should do, almost kills us with fears.

For I am watch’d, and such-like, very narrowly; and he says to Mrs. Jervis, This girl is always scribbling; I think she may be better employ’d.

I sobb’d and cry’d most sadly. What a foolish Hussy you are! said he: Have I done you any Harm? Yes, Sir, said I, the greatest Harm in the world: You have taught me to forget myself and what belongs to me, and have lessen’d the Distance that Fortune has made between us, by demeaning yourself, to be so free to a poor Servant.

Say no more, Mrs. Jervis; for by G—d I will have her!

Their Riches often are a Snare;
At best, a pamper’d weighty Care:
Their Servants far more happy are:
At least, so thinketh Pamela.

Why now, says she, how strangely you talk! Are not the two Sexes made for one another? And is it not natural for a Gentleman to love a pretty Woman? And suppose he can obtain his Desires, is that so bad as cutting her Throat? And then the Wretch fell a laughing, and talk’d most impertinently, and shew’d me, that I had nothing to expect from her Virtue or Conscience

Mr. Williams came to see us, and took a Walk with us once; and while her back was just turn’d, (encourag’d by the hint he had before given me,) I said, Sir, I see two Tiles upon that Parsley-bed; might not one cover them with Mould, with a Note between them, on Occasion?—A good Hint, said he; let that Sunflower by the Back-door of the Garden be the place; I have a Key to that; for it is my nearest way to the Town.

This Act of Despondency, thought I, is a Sin, that, if I pursue it, admits of no Repentance, and can therefore claim no Forgiveness.—And wilt thou, to shorten thy transitory Griefs, heavy as they are, and weak as thou fanciest thyself, plunge both Body and Soul into everlasting Misery! Hitherto, Pamela, thought I, thou art the innocent, the suffering Pamela; and wilt thou, to avoid thy sufferings, be the guilty Aggressor? And, because wicked Men persecute thee, wilt thou fly in the Face of the Almighty, and distrust his Grace and Goodness, who can still turn all these Sufferings to Benefits?

Fine clothes, sir, become not me; nor have I any ambition to wear them. I have greater pride in my poverty and meanness, than I should have in dress and finery.

Your poor Pamela cannot answer for the Liberties taken with her in her deplorable State of Death.

IF, my dear Parents, I am not destin’d more surely than ever for Ruin, I have now more Comfort before me, than ever I yet knew. And am either nearer my Happiness or my Misery than ever I was.

Now, said he, you are going—I boldly put my hand before his mouth, hardly knowing the liberty I took: Pray, sir, said I, don’t be angry; I have just done.

Since you so much prize your Honour, and your Virtue; since all Attempts against that are so odious to you; and since I have avowedly made several of these Attempts, do you think it is possible for you to love me preferably to any other of my Sex?

Odd! my pretty mistress, said she, you had best take care of yourself; for you are hard beset, I’ll assure you. You will never be married, I can see; and will die of your first child. Out upon thee, woman! said I, better thou hadst never come here.

Besides, said he, there is such a pretty air of romance, as you relate them, in your plots, and my plots, that I shall be better directed in what manner to wind up the catastrophe of the pretty novel.

This Letter, when I expected some new Plot, has affected me more than any thing of that Sort could have done. For here is plainly his great Value for me confess’d, and his rigorous Behaviour accounted for in such a Manner, as tortures me much.

I have no Will but yours, said I (all glowing like the Fire, as I could feel:) But, Sir, did you say in the House? Ay, said he; for I care not how privately it be done; and it must be very public if we go to Church. It is a Holy Rite, Sir, said I; and would be better, methinks, in a Holy Place.

My master kindly said, Come, Mr. Andrews, you and I will sit together. And so took his Place at the Bottom of the Table, and set my Father on his Right-hand; and Sir Simon would sit on his Left.

And thus, my dearest, dear Parents, is your happy, happy, thrice happy Pamela, at last, marry’d; and to who?—Why, to her beloved, gracious Master! The Lord of her Wishes!—And thus the dear, once naughty Assailer of her Innocence, by a blessed Turn of Providence, is become the kind, the generous Protector and Rewarder of it.

But canst thou have the Vanity, the Pride, the Folly, said she, to think thyself actually marry’d to my Brother?

’Tis even so, my Dear, replied he; and you remember my Sister’s good-natur’d Hint of Miss Sally Godfrey? I do well, sir, answered I. But this is Miss Goodwin. Her Mother chose that name for her, said he, because she should not be called by her own.

Oh! What a poor thing is human Life in its best Enjoyments!—subjected to imaginary Evils, when it has no real ones to disturb it!

Are all so many signal Instances of the Excellency of her mind, which may make her Character worthy of the Imitation of her Sex. And the Editor of these Sheets will have his End, if it inspires a laudable Emulation in the Minds of any worthy persons, who may thereby entitle themselves to the Rewards, the Praises, and the Blessings, by which she was so deservedly distinguished.