INTRODUCTION
The publication of Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded on 6 November 1740 occasioned the kind of immediate and hyperbolic praise which would have turned the head of an author less vain than Richardson. Proclaimed by Aaron Hill as being "the Soul of Religion," and by Knightley Chetwood as the book next to the Bible which ought to be saved "if all the Books in England were to be burnt," Pamela seemed certain of universal acclaim, especially when the Reverend Benjamin Slocock praised it extravagantly from the pulpit of St. Saviour's in Southwark within two months of its initial printing. Even the "Objections" voiced by several correspondents and published at the beginning of the second edition of Pamela (14 February 1741) seemed relatively inconsequential when weighed against the Gentleman's Magazine's assertion in January 1741 that every Londoner with the slightest curiosity was reading Pamela.[1]
Literary and moral opposition to Pamela gradually began to mount, however. April 1741 saw the publication of the first and perhaps most perceptive attacks on Richardson's novel: An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews appeared on 2 April, followed by Pamela Censured: In a Letter to the Editor some twenty-three days later. While we now feel certain that Henry Fielding wrote Shamela, the author of Pamela Censured has eluded us.[2] Though both works attack Pamela on moral grounds and incidentally make unflattering comments about Colley Cibber, their literary methods differ so greatly that it is impossible to tell whether or not Shamela influenced Pamela Censured to any extent.
Fielding's parody is too well known to be described in detail here. Though his sophisticated wit lashes out in a number of directions, he attacks Pamela on primarily two fronts: in prefatory letters he assails those who would praise Richardson's novel for its moral lessons, while in the body of Shamela he burlesques the psychological motivations of Pamela herself, showing that she is motivated by mercenary "vartue" rather than angelic virtue. In spite of its hasty composition, Shamela clearly displays a kind of literary charm and insight that was soon to characterize Joseph Andrews and Tom Jones.
Because it lacks Fielding's wit, Pamela Censured is now almost forgotten even though it elicited an even stronger response than Shamela from some of Richardson's defenders and detractors. The "Introduction" to Pamela's Conduct in High Life (1741), for instance, airily dismisses Shamela's "low Humour adapted to the Standard of a petit Maitre's Capacity" which has been applauded only "among the Weak and Vicious." By contrast, the same work devotes an entire four pages to answering the various charges levelled by Pamela Censured after first attacking its author for giving readers "such an Idea of his own vicious Inclination, that it would not ... wrong him to think the Shrieks of a Woman in Labour would excite his Passions, and the Agonies of a dying Woman enflame his Blood, and stimulate him to commit a Rape." Aaron Hill, who had apparently ignored the publication of Shamela, angrily conveyed to Richardson a rumor that Pamela Censured was a bookseller's contrivance written in order to promote sales among readers with prurient interests. (Richardson, distressed over such a suggestion, emphatically wrote "Quite mistaken!" in the margin of Hill's letter.) But if this stratagem was not employed to boost sales in England, it perhaps was used across the Channel, where Pamela Censured, under the title Pamela, Zedelyk Beoordeeld, appeared in Holland some months before a complete Dutch translation of Richardson's novel was ever published.[3]
To Richardson's contemporaries, Pamela Censured must consequently have seemed a much more serious attack than Shamela. The humor of Fielding's parody might be misinterpreted or at least dismissed as "low"; in Pamela Censured, the rather personal attack on the author of Pamela and the precise censure of specific passages could not, however, be misconstrued or ignored. Moreover, the critical principle behind Pamela Censured appears quite sound, at least on its most simple level: Pamela is bad because it violates what might be called a literary "truth in labeling" law. Casting himself in the role of "consumer advocate," the author of Pamela Censured systematically attempts to show that Pamela fails to live up to the advertisement on its title page:
a SERIES of FAMILIAR LETTERS FROM A Beautiful Young DAMSEL, To her PARENTS. Now first Published in order In order to cultivate the Principles of VIRTUE and RELIGION in the Minds of the YOUTH of BOTH SEXES. A Narrative which has its Foundation in TRUTH and NATURE; and at the same time that it agreeably entertains, by a Variety of curious and affecting INCIDENTS, is intirely divested of all those Images, which, in too many Pieces calculated for Amusement only, tend to inflame the Minds they should instruct.
In applying this test to Pamela, the author of Pamela Censured displays a curious mixture of naiveté and sophistication. His first attack involves a silly and perhaps consciously dishonest misreading of the words "Now first Published" on Pamela's title page. While this phrase clearly means that Pamela's letters are now being published for the first time, Pamela Censured attacks Pamela for claiming to be the first work ever aimed at cultivating "the Principles of VIRTUE and RELIGION in the Minds of the YOUTH of BOTH SEXES." When Pamela Censured later assails Pamela for not telling a true story, as the title page advertises, it naively fails to understand that by the time of Pamela's publication the guise of telling a true story had virtually become a fictional convention.
But when Pamela Censured considers the implications of Pamela's fictionality, it raises two valid literary problems, treating the first in a cursory fashion and devoting to the second most of its space and attention. If, as Pamela Censured first of all asserts, the "editor" of Pamela is really the author, then all of the prefatory material in Pamela must be seen as proof of the author's immorality: he is a man consumed by vanity. Secondly, this author must be convicted on even more serious moral grounds: his fiction instructs readers to sin and enflames those passions which he, as a moral man, should extinguish. Not only is this a clear moral flaw in the author and in his book, but it also blatantly contradicts the promises made on the title page.
In attacking Pamela's morality, Pamela Censured raises a problem inherent in virtually all narrative fiction: stories inevitably lead some readers to imitate the vicious characters rather than the virtuous ones, in spite of any moral statements made by the author or any punishments meted out at the end of the story. Even in "forbidding a silly ostler to grease the horse's teeth," as Alithea says in The Country Wife (III, i), one may very easily teach him "to do't." Such concerns, of course, are not new. From Plato and Horace to the Neo-Humanists of the twentieth century, critics have dwelled in varying degrees on the moral effects of literature. The eighteenth century, reacting against the supposed immorality of the Restoration, often emphasized the utile, losing sight of the dulce in its criticism. Pamela Censured in its moral approach bears a striking similarity to Jeremy Collier's Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage (1698): both virtually try to bludgeon to death literary works for inciting immoral actions. In one respect, however, A Short View exercises a bit more control than does Pamela Censured. While Collier refuses to quote directly from the offensive literature, affirming that his intention is "rather to kill the Root than Transplant it," the author of Pamela Censured meticulously provides his readers with a compendium of the so-called dirty parts of Pamela. Such attention to the morality of literature, moreover, may easily backfire. The anonymous author of A Vindication of the Stage (1698) concludes that Collier's "dwelling so long on the Subject of Debauchery, argues something of Delight and Pleasure in the Case." Likewise, the author of Pamela's Conduct in High Life sees the treatment of sexual immodesty in Pamela Censured as evidence of "how much of the Goat" there is in the author's "Constitution."[4]
More importantly, however, Pamela Censured—as the first sustained criticism of what is probably the first English novel—amasses much of the moral ammunition which was to be fired at realistic novels during the eighteenth century. Echoes of Pamela Censured may, for instance, be heard in Clara Reeve's Progress of Romance (1785), where Hortensia comments that in reading, "The seeds of vice and folly are sown in the heart,—the passions are awakened,—false expectations are raised.—A young woman is taught to expect adventures and intrigues." Euphrasia, who expresses Clara Reeve's attitudes throughout the work, qualifies this statement, pointing out that these ill effects come from reading novels, but not romances.[5] Indeed, romances do not mislead readers precisely because they are so removed from real life. Moreover, romances morally instruct readers without hazarding the pitfalls inherent in novels. Dr. John Gregory's Comparative View (1765), for instance, concludes that:
Notwithstanding the ridiculous extravagance of the old Romance in many particulars, it seems calculated to produce more favourable effects on the morals of Mankind, than our modern Novels.—If the former did not represent men as they really are, it represented them better; its Heroes were patterns of courage, generosity, truth, humanity, and the most exalted virtues. Its Heroines were distinguished for modesty, delicacy, and the utmost dignity of manners.—The latter [i.e., novels] represent Mankind too much what they are, paint such scenes of pleasure and vice as are unworthy to see the light, and thus in a manner hackney youth in the ways of wickedness, before they are well entered into the World; expose the fair sex in the most wanton and shameless manner to the eyes of the world.[6]
Novels tend to "inflame the Passions and corrupt the Heart" of the reader because they treat real life with all its sordid concerns: sex, social status, pride, money, and the like. If the novel describes such matters in a realistic fashion, "warm scenes" will inevitably creep into it. As Pamela Censured complains, men are inflamed by the description of a woman's body, especially when she seems about to be ravished; women are corrupted into believing they can seduce a man into a lucrative marriage without any moral or physical danger. Novels, moreover, are most likely to inflame and corrupt young readers, who lack experience and who are frequently ruled by their passions.[7]
To a moral man like Richardson, the criticisms in Pamela Censured must have seemed painfully serious. The pamphlet virtually proclaims his novel a total failure by showing that it tends "to excite Lasciviousness"—not "the Principles of VIRTUE and RELIGION"—among its readers. In addition, Pamela is especially pernicious since its title page advertises that it is written for the "YOUTH of BOTH SEXES," precisely those people who—according to Pamela Censured—must not read this book. Pamela Censured concludes with an appeal to the author of Pamela to emend or strike out entirely the offending passages from his novel.
Richardson's revisions bear witness to the seriousness with which he took such criticism. For the fifth edition (22 September, 1741), he toned down the extravagant praises in the introductory letters, and for the sixth edition (7 December 1741), he entirely omitted these letters, substituting in their place a table of contents. The "warm scenes" furthermore gradually began to loose their warmth. In the fifth edition, Pamela now lies face down on the floor while Mr. B peeks through the keyhole (Letter XV). Pamela Censured had attacked the original passage for exciting "Passions of Desire" by picturing Pamela stretched out on the floor, presumably having collapsed on her back (p. 31). Richardson's change indicates more about his sense of decorum and his attention to Pamela Censured than about his ignorance—as Eaves and Kimpel imply—concerning sexual perversions.[8]
By the time Richardson's carefully corrected fourteenth edition appeared in 1801, even more changes had crept into those passages which Pamela Censured found particularly objectionable. Mr. B no longer offers "to take" Pamela "on his Knee, with some Force"; he now more modestly lifts her up and offers "to set" her on his knee, without any mention of force (Letter XV). While Mr. B originally "by Force Kissed" Pamela's "Neck and Lips," he now simply kisses Pamela—no portion of her anatomy mentioned—while she struggles against him (Letter XV). Likewise, instead of passionately putting his hand in Pamela's bosom, Mr. B in the revised version merely tries to kiss her neck (Letter XV) or continues holding her in his arms (Letter XXV). Because of her lover's more modest approach in Letter XXV, Pamela no longer breaks out "in a cold clammy sweat." Pamela's reasons for not succumbing to Mr. B's advances (Letter XIX), which Pamela Censured found morally shoddy, are clarified somewhat by the inclusion of a new moralizing passage concerning her relation to Mr. B:
He may make me great offers, and may, perhaps, intend to deck me out in finery, the better to gratify his own pride; but I should be a wicked creature indeed, if, for the sake of riches or favour, I should forfeit my good name; yea, and worse than any other young body of my sex; because I can so contentedly return to my poverty again, and think it less disgrace to be obliged to live upon rye-bread and water, as I used to do, than to be a harlot to the greatest man in the world.
To make Pamela's moral purity even clearer, Richardson causes tears to appear in Mrs. Jervis's eyes as she hears Pamela's virtuous protestations. Though the reader originally watches Pamela pull off her stays and "stockens," these details are now omitted (Letter XXV). Mr. B's clothing loses some of its extravagance, his dressing gown no longer being silver (Letter XXV) and his waistcoat no longer trimmed in gold (Letter XXVII). Moreover, Mr. B exercises a bit more restraint (or at least Pamela's descriptions seem a bit less ambiguous): while in the first edition he comes to Pamela's bed, in the later version he simply approaches her "bed-side" (Letter XV). For the fourteenth edition, Richardson omits the "obscene ... double Entendre" in which Mr. B wishes he could have Pamela "as Quick another Way" (Letter XXVII). In an almost passive fashion, Mr. B releases Pamela from his clutches, "loosing his arms with an air," while in the original version he obviously keeps a passionate hold on her (Saturday Morning [37th day of confinement]). During Mr. B's last attempt at rape, Pamela no longer offers up her prayers "all undrest" (though she does have her underclothes in her hand), and Mr. B no longer approaches her bed breathing "all quick and short." Once the attempted rape is over and Pamela awakens from her faint, she (in the revised version) does not speculate concerning "the Liberties taken with her in her deplorable State" (Tuesday Night [40th day of confinement]). Finally, Pamela is now less brazen when led by Mr. B into the alcove where he proclaims his love. She now prudently considers that she can safely go there for two reasons: the alcove has "a passage through it" and Mr. B had already led her there "once without stopping" (Wednesday Morning [41st day of confinement]).[9]
While Richardson's revisions may seem extensive, they in no respect remove or change all of the objectionable passages that Pamela Censured so severely criticizes. A considerable amount of hanky-panky remains in the last version of Pamela. Mr. B, for instance, still tries to examine Pamela "to her under Petticoat" (Letter XXIV), and he even gets to grope—though only once—for her breasts (Tuesday Night [40th day of confinement]). It should not be surprising, however, that Richardson failed to achieve the "successful" expurgations found in Victorian bowdlerizations of his novel. While he undoubtedly tried to clean up his descriptions, Richardson nevertheless had to keep in mind his novel's artistic integrity (something the bowdlerizers did not do). In order to show the stages through which a virtuous young woman must realistically pass when tempted by a physically attractive, though morally reprehensible young man, Richardson had to describe attempted rapes and their effects. In so doing, he undoubtedly hoped his readers would keep in mind the morally unambiguous end of his novel (which, incidentally, Pamela Censured virtually ignores). Some "warm scenes," as a consequence, seem necessary in this novel, and to remove all of them would, in effect, change Pamela into something radically different, namely a romance.
Though most of the attack in Pamela Censured simply reflects the author's prejudice against the sexual implications of realistic descriptions, the pamphlet occasionally alludes to a further moral problem, one which has bothered readers since the time of Fielding. "Instead of being artless and innocent," Pamela seems to have "as much Knowledge of the Arts of the Town, as if she had been born and bred in Covent Garden" (pp. 21-22). As a consequence, she appears "mighty skillful" (p. 26) in her dealings with Mr. B. In spite of these hints, Pamela Censured stops short of concluding—as Shamela does—that Pamela is motivated by an immoral desire to trap Mr. B into marriage rather than by an overwhelming desire to maintain her virtue at any cost. Perhaps the author of Pamela Censured contemplated this moral ambiguity as the subject of his projected "Second Epistle" (p. 64), a work which seems never to have appeared in print, if indeed it was ever written.
Pamela Censured, nevertheless, casually makes a provocative comparison which, if developed, might easily have thrown light on the artistic reasons behind Pamela's morally questionable actions. In its opening pages, Pamela Censured indicates that Pamela, at least in its title, is less "modest" than Chevalier de Mouhy's La Paysanne parvenue (1735-37), published in English as The Fortunate Country Maid. Being the Entertaining Memoirs of the Present Celebrated Marchioness of L—— V——: Who from a Cottage, through a Great Variety of Diverting Adventures, Became a Lady of the First Quality in the Court of France (1741). One can only wish that Pamela Censured had developed its comparison in a thorough and sophisticated fashion, indicating the moral implications of the differences between these two stories.
The Fortunate Country Maid, first of all, bears a striking resemblance to Pamela: in both works the heroines, almost identical in social position, face similar trials and ultimately are rewarded in the same fashion. A brief description of the plot of The Fortunate Country Maid should adequately indicate these similarities to anyone already familiar with Pamela. Jenny, the heroine of The Fortunate Country Maid, comes from the lower social ranks, her father a common woodcutter in the forest of Fountainbleau. The young Marquis of L—— V——, son of Jenny's godfather, singles her out for his special attention because of her beauty and charm. Though conscious of the social distinctions which bar her marriage to the Marquis, Jenny nonetheless falls in love with him, all the while uneasy that she might be "ruined." Her fears indeed are not ill-founded. After learning social amenities in the household of the Countess of N——, her godmother, Jenny embarks on a series of trials, including an attempted rape, an offer to be set up as a kept woman, threats of an arranged marriage, and even proposals for a clandestine wedding. Held a virtual prisoner, Jenny ponders the advisability of escape; ultimately she decides that it would be better to forfeit her life rather than loose her reputation. One of her last conflicts involves a menacing Swiss soldier who tries to take her into his custody. When the Marquis appears to be on the point of death, Jenny clearly recognizes the genuine depth of her love for him. At the conclusion of the story, Jenny and the Marquis are married, the Marquis' father finally accepting this unconventional alliance only after having been convinced of Jenny's virtue. Everyone seems to live happily ever after, including Jenny's parents, who move from their cottage to the Estate de F—— A——, property which they will one day own. This happiness, however, is tempered somewhat by the realization that Jenny and the Marquis must carefully justify their marriage to the society in which they live.
It is tempting, because of the obvious similarities between these two works, to suggest that Richardson knew and was influenced by The Fortunate Country Maid. On the other hand we perhaps should not doubt Richardson's basic honesty when he says "I am not acquainted in the least with the French Language or Writers: And that it was Chance and not Skill or Learning, that made me fall into this way of Scribbling."[10] In any event, these parallels must raise provocative questions concerning Richardson's possible indebtedness to this work.
In spite of these overwhelming similarities, the plots of Pamela and The Fortunate Country Maid fundamentally differ in one important respect. In Pamela, Mr. B tries to rape the heroine; he offers to make her his whore: he attempts to arrange for her a dishonorable marriage with Parson Williams; and he ultimately weds her himself. In contrast, the Marquis of L—— V—— stands virtually outside the action during most of The Fortunate Country Maid. Jenny fends off a rape, but it is attempted by Chevalier d'Elbieux; she rejects the position of a whore, but it is offered by M. de G—— and his housekeeper (who incidentally is much like Mrs. Jervis); she avoids an arranged marriage, but it is proposed by M. de G—— and M. Gripart. Jenny does eventually, however, marry the Marquis. Once the Chevalier d'Elbieux—villain of the first part of the story—reforms and becomes a monk, the role of villain devolves on the Marquis of L—— V——'s father, who tries to block at all turns the impending marriage between his son and this peasant girl. It is the elder Marquis who causes St. Fal to imprison Jenny, and it is Jenny's plot to avoid the elder Marquis which causes her to be threatened by the Colbrand-like Swiss. Throughout all this, the young Marquis remains unblemished, his proposal of a clandestine marriage and his excessive jealousy simply indicating his passionate love, not his moral turpitude.
The implications of this important difference between Mr. B and the Marquis of L—— V—— should be clear to us even if they were not to the author of Pamela Censured. As Ralph Rader indicates in a recent essay dealing with, among other things, the narrative form of Pamela: "Richardson's chief problem in the novel is the need his form imposes to make Mr. B. both a villain and a hero. B. must threaten Pamela and threaten her increasingly, else our sense of her danger and the merit which develops from her response to danger will not increase, as the form requires, along lines that make her ultimate reward possible; but the more directly and villainously he does threaten her, the less acceptable he will appear as an ultimate and satisfactory reward for her, something that the form requires also."[11] Jenny's reward, her marriage to the Marquis of L—— V——, raises no serious moral questions since the Marquis remains virtuous throughout the story. Moreover, while Jenny carefully protects her chastity, she does not in any sense seem motivated by mercenary desires since the preservation of her chastity does not necessarily lead to her marriage with the Marquis. Pamela's reward, on the other hand, is marriage to a vicious though presumably reformed rake. The preservation of her chastity, furthermore, seems motivated by mercenary goals. Finding herself in a situation where she either looses her chastity and becomes Mr. B's whore or preserves her chastity and becomes his wife, Pamela clearly chooses the more profitable alternative.
The artistic success of Clarissa undoubtedly reflects in part the lesson Richardson learned from such moral attacks as Pamela Censured and Shamela. While "warm scenes" remain in his second novel—as indeed they must in any realistic portrayal of male-female relations—Richardson continually tempers these scenes with clear indications of Lovelace's vicious nature and careful forebodings of Clarissa's tragic fate. Moreover, unlike Pamela, whose reward is marriage to her would-be rapist, Clarissa escapes from her seducer, achieving a morally unambiguous reward, her heroic death.
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