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“IT is one among many reasons for which I purpose to endeavour the entertainment of my countrymen by a short essay on Tuesday and Saturday, that I hope not much to tire those whom I shall not happen to please; and if I am not commended for the beauty of my works, to be at least pardoned for their brevity”

Dr. Samuel Johnson, the Rambler, No. 1, 1750

Going in the footsteps of Johnson without his mental equipment, a weekly column by the editor on the subject of Historical literature, focusing on the 18th century.

Article V May 15, 2007

Pamela, Shamela and the Universities

By the editor

Several years ago I was discussing 18th century literature with someone I know who was in the process of taking a related course in University. When we were speaking of Fielding and Richardson, he said they had read Shamela by Fielding as part of their course work. Since Shamela is a satire of Pamela by Samuel Richardson, I asked him what he had thought of Pamela. He replied that they had only read Shamela, and Pamela was not assigned reading for the course. Since then I have discovered that this is a pretty standard practice in Universities.

For the unitiated, Pamela is a novel by Samuel Richardson, which was incredibly popular and controversial when it was published 1740. It is the story of a young maid named Pamela who refuses to sleep with her employer, a wealthy young land-owner. Pamela struggles to retain her ‘virtue’, her employer kidnaps her among other things, and he eventually decides to marry her, once he finds her virtue cannot be corrupted.

And so I am to be exposed, am I, said he, in my own house, and out of my house, to the whole world, by such a sauce-box as you? No, good sir, said I, and I hope your honour won’t be angry with me; it is not I that expose you, if I say nothing but the truth. So, taunting again! Assurance as you are! said he: I will not be thus talked to!

Pray, sir, said I, of whom can a poor girl take advice, if it must not be of her father and mother, and such a good woman as Mrs. Jervis, who, for her sex-sake, should give it me when asked? Insolence! said he, and stamped with his foot, am I to be questioned thus by such a one as you? I fell down on my knees, and said, For Heaven’s sake, your honour, pity a poor creature, that knows nothing of her duty, but how to cherish her virtue and good name: I have nothing else to trust to: and, though poor and friendless here, yet I have always been taught to value honesty above my life. Here’s ado with your honesty, said he, foolish girl! Is it not one part of honesty to be dutiful and grateful to your master, do you think? Indeed, sir, said I, it is impossible I should be ungrateful to your honour, or disobedient, or deserve the names of bold-face or insolent, which you call me, but when your commands are contrary to that first duty which shall ever be the principle of my life!

He seemed to be moved, and rose up, and walked into the great chamber two or three turns, leaving me on my knees; and I threw my apron over my face, and laid my head on a chair, and cried as if my heart would break, having no power to stir.

Shamela is Fielding’s satire of the book, which purports to show the behind the scenes machinations of ‘Shamela’ who, instead of virtuous, is loose and rapacious, set on making her fortune by snaring her employer into marriage under the guise of virtue.

O madam, I have strange Things to tell you! As I was reading in that charming Book about the Dealings, in comes my Master—to be sure he is a precious One. Pamela, says he, what Book is that, I warrant you Rochester’s Poems. —No, forsooth, says I, as pertly as I could; why how now Saucy Chops, Boldface, says he—Mighty pretty Words, says I, pert again. —Yes (says he) you are are a d—d, impudent, stinking, cursed, confounded Jade, and I have a great Mind to kick your A—. You, kiss— says I. A-gad, says he, and so I will; with that he caught me in his Arms, and kissed me till he made my Face all over Fire. Now this served purely you know, to put upon the Fool for Anger. O! What precious Fools Men are! And so I flung from him in a mighty Rage, and pretended as how I would go out at the Door; but when I came to the End of the Room, I stood still, and my Master cryed out, Hussy, Slut, Sauce-box, Boldface, come hither—Yes to be sure, says I; why don’t you come, says he; what should I come for says I; if you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you, says he; I shan’t come to you I assure you, says I. Upon which he run up, caught me in his Arms, and flung me upon a Chair, and began to offer to touch my Under-Petticoat. Sir, says I, you had better not offer to be rude; well, says he, no more I won’t then; and away he went out of the Room. I was so mad to be sure I could have cry’d.

It is not terribly surprising that in our current age of cynicism, we gravitate towards satire and criticism over the original work itself, but in regard to Pamela and Shamela, the satire does not compare to the work itself.

First, when examining the message of the works themselves, we may be surprised by the nature of the cynicism we are subscribing to. In Pamela, Richardson is calling into question the habit of the higher classes to largely confine the strict performance of religious morality to the conduct of the higher classes, and there, most often, women. He is asking ‘why, if virtue is the standard people must live by, are the men of the higher classes free to prey on the virtue of the women in the lower classes?’ In Pamela, he makes it clear that the virtue of poor women is hardly regarded, and Pamela’s desire to maintain her innocence from the advances of her employer, is seen as foolish, unusual or unnecessary. In Pamela, Richardson is posing the question: where morality is strictly concerned, why the virtue of the lower classes is not to be encouraged, preserved and protected as it is in the higher classes?

Shamela by contrast, may be considered a response by the higher classes, to what they considered a dangerous idea. At the publication of Pamela, parents of wealthy young men trembled lest the precedent of marrying any young thing you felt like sleeping with, caught on, and their spotless lineage was sacrificed to the lustful inclinations of their sons, who were to be the pride of their families. What would happen to all their hopes, after all, if their son became fixated on some virtuous girl of lower extraction and she refused to satisfy his wishes on religious grounds? The thought was beyond frightening.

In the spirit of satire and partially from jealousy of Richardson’s success, Fielding took up this standard. The character of Pamela, he asserted through his satire Shamela, is an absolute impossibility. Any maid who will not sleep with her wealthy employer is a scheming vixen, and any wealthy man who is driven to marrying a woman like this is very foolish.

When it comes to quality of work and plot development, it is clear to most readers that Pamela (volume I at least) is a well written, engaging work with a well thought out plot. Shamela is a farce and does not ever try to achieve anything more than ridicule of Pamela, and though very short, does not even need to be as long. Therefore, for Universities to choose to study the work written with less skill and of a shorter length suggests a true belief in its point or premise.

A true belief in the point or premise of Shamela in this century is very doubtful. Why, after all, should a person of this century subscribe to the ideal that only the rich have a claim to goodness? Why should we find so compelling or amusing the idea that a virtuous person in a lower class is impossible? Is that reflected in our current beliefs? Are rich people unanimously good and poor people unanimously bad? Our seemingly indiscriminate love of cynicism alone seems to have secured Shamela a place in University curriculum, where Pamela is dismissed as being a work worthy of ridicule, and therefore not worthy of study.

A last note on Fielding’s Shamela relates to the character Pamela herself. Fielding’s satire is obviously designed to assert that he believed Richardson’s character, Pamela, to be beyond belief. In regard to fiction, I am disposed to allow writers a broad license when creating their character’s, and I have encountered far more unbelievable characters in my career than Pamela. That a young girl should be attached to the ideals of purity and virtue preached to her in her local church, the loss of which must cost her a fiery hell for eternity, I think not only believable but natural. Even if that were not the case, however, a writer’s characters are what the writer says they are, and it does not seem to me to be open for second-guessing.

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