Pamela: “what can the abject poor do against the mighty rich, when they are determined to oppress?”

1/ My first blog post about Pamela, I know, wasn’t very enthusiastic. Around page 100 is when the novel becomes more interesting: Samuel Richardson breaks the epistolary form with the appearance of a narrator and the perspective of other characters; we also hear Mr B’s voice for the first time that is not reported by Pamela. The story at this point also becomes more gripping. The horror! The deception! Pamela is only 15. And helpless. 

For the first 100 pages, Pamela writes letters to her parents about how her master Mr B, after the old lady’s death, has been trying to take her virtue, which she’d rather die than lose. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what we now call sexual harassment at the workplace. Around page 100 is when sexual harassment turns into an abduction. 

2/ Pamela, considering that it’s the 18th century, has some surprisingly progressive views that I assume are shared by the author: 

“… for my part, I cannot forbear smiling at the absurdity of persons even of the first quality, who value themselves upon their ancestors’ merits, rather than their own. For is it not as much as to say, they are conscious they have no other?” (Letter 23) 

“… I will only sit down with this sad reflection – That power and riches never want tools to promote their vilest ends…” (Journal) 

“But, O sir! my soul is of equal importance with the soul of a princess, though in quality I am but upon a foot with the meanest slave.” (Journal, but this is from a letter to Mr Williams, the clergyman). 

I’ve read that Pamela was shocking and scandalous at the time not because of the sexual harassment and abduction, but because it ended with the servant marrying her master. 

(I barely know the 18th century though, I have to explore more). 

3/ Pamela makes me think of some other characters: Cécile from Dangerous Liaisons, Fanny Price from Mansfield Park, the titular character of Jane Eyre, Esther Summerson from Bleak House. And the women in Spanish Golden Age literature.

The comparison with Cécile is obvious, especially when they’re the same age. Cécile is more human and more likeable. 

The comparison with Jane Eyre is also obvious: a maid is socially lower than a governess, but they’re both employees and their employers fancy them and treat them abominably, in different ways. Charlotte Bronte even mentions Pamela in her book. 

Pamela makes me think about Fanny and Esther because they’re all morally good characters who are not very popular among readers—I often see readers whine that Fanny is priggish, uptight, self-righteous, and boring; that Esther is passive, submissive, cloying, too modest, too good. Very odd. I have always defended Fanny and Esther and will continue defending them till death. Both are more interesting and more likeable than Pamela—not that likeability is particularly important for literature—Fanny loves nature and poetry, and she is insightful; Esther is funny and a strange, excellent writer. Pamela is not funny. She was getting on my nerves—I read Spanish Golden Age literature and said I was so done with the theme of a woman’s honour—here it is again, only that Richardson uses the word “virtue” instead. In the edition on Gutenberg, the word “virtue” pops up 86 times in the novel, not counting the title; “virtuous” 33 times; “honest” or “honesty” 158 times; “innocent” 66 times and “innocence” 76 times. 

(Did Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte find Pamela irritating? I wonder).

But we—I mean I—shouldn’t be so harsh on Pamela. After all, she is 15 and lives in 18th century England, and she gets this from her parents: 

“… we fear—yes, my dear child, we fear—you should be too grateful, and reward him with that jewel, your virtue, which no riches, nor favour, nor any thing in this life, can make up to you.” (Letter 2) 

With such (insufferable) parents, of course she would turn out like that. 

One can’t help feeling sympathy for Pamela when the dark plot against her unfolds—she is betrayed, abducted, held against her will, completely helpless with no one to turn to. I also appreciate that Pamela is not stupid and the novel is not an idiot plot (one that is “kept in motion solely by virtue of the fact that everybody involved is an idiot”).

But after a while, I have to say that Pamela gets on my nerves again: she faints, she weeps, she professes her virtue and innocence. It is one note. It’s more interesting when Mr B (the master) sends some letters and then shows up, as we get out of Pamela’s head and get another perspective—the character of Mr B puzzles me—but Pamela continues doing my head in. 

Should I continue? Tell me if I should continue. I’m on page 220 (out of about 550).