detail of an illustration by Joseph Highmore

Samuel Richardson and the background of Pamela

Pamela is an interesting phenomenon in a number of ways. Perhaps most notably, it is the first in a series of popular English-language epistolary (pronounced ee-PISS-toh-lay-ree) novels--i.e., novels told through letters, or epistles. The epistolary novel had been around for centuries in other cultures, and there are many more examples of prose works where letters tell part of the action.

An early example can be found in Lucian's second-century "True History," the classical proto-novel that served as Jonathan Swift's model for Gulliver's Travels, where there is a humorous episode in which the hero Odysseus tries to smuggle a letter to the nymph Calypso. The form probably had its start with the collection of poems known as the Heroides, or "Love Letters of the Heroines," composed by the Augustan poet Ovid... I mean the first set of Augustan poets, that is, not the poets of the 17th and 18th centuries who called themselves Augustans (more on them in the coming semester). Ovid lived in Rome in the first century B.C., at the time of Augustus Caesar. So Richardson was borrowing a technique from a "high" classical form of literature and adapting it to the "low" form of prose fiction.

The first major epistolary novel in English, published in 1683, was Aphra Behn's Love Letters Between a Nobleman and His Sister. But it was Richardson who elevated the genre to popularity and brought it to the masses. After all, not too many conservative, religious families are going to purchase something by the name of Love Letters Between a Nobleman and His Sister.

A printer by trade, Richardson had been working on a book of model letters for the use of servants. With the rising literacy rate in Britain, there was a demand for such models. As working-class people were moving toward literacy they wanted to write, but they weren't in the habit of it and they needed a little guidance. Their situation was rather akin to that of first-generation college attendees nowadays, who don't have their parents' college experience to draw upon and need to rely on guidance counselors and mentor faculty.

After working with the model letters for a while, Richardson started inventing more interesting situations, such as what kind of letter a modest young maid ought to write if her master is trying to seduce her! And out of this, Pamela was born. The first edition was published anonymously, like many novels at the time, but word soon got out about the author's identity as the work became a best seller. It went through six different editions in the first year and a half after publication, four of these just within the first six months. And of course because Richardson was able to print them himself it was pure profit for him. Looking at the different editions is interesting: as he set the type, he made frequent changes, so the editions differ significantly. The edition we have is considered one of the racier versions.

But if the epistolary novel itself wasn't new, there were a few other things that Richardson did with this book that are revolutionary, and are definitely worth mentioning. I'll bullet them for emphasis:

• Pamela's story is told entirely through her own voice. The narrative details and the contextual elements of the letters are all chosen consciously by Pamela herself. This puts her in an extraordinarily powerful position, not only as a narrator but also as a woman, and as a member of the disenfranchised working class. She is able to take control of the narrative and show events in whatever light she chooses, wresting the center of power away from her employer Mr. B even as she preserves the "silence" that is expected of one in her social position. This is not the first time female narrative control has occurred--Daniel Defoe's novels Moll Flanders and Roxana, for instance, are told in the voices of their eponymous heroines--but unlike Defoe's female narrators, Pamela has a specific audience in mind for each of her letters and she is writing them as she goes along. Defoe's tales are told more like a long-after-the-fact confession (the confessional narrative was another popular genre in Behn's and Defoe's day). In Pamela's case, you feel as if she is shaping the narrative even as you observe her.
• The letters take on almost a character of their own. The writing of them--and, as the story goes on, their secretion, transmission, or occasional disappearance--is an important part of the plot. Pamela actually becomes a repository for her own letters, as she sews them into her clothing and they become a part of her person. This is an amazing case of drawing attention to the written words as writing and as objects with a physical existence, not just as a vehicle for conveying a story.
• Pamela gives hints in her language and actions of a Puritan upbringing, which would have emphasized that every person is equal in the eyes of God. Thus, her insistence that the virtue of a servant is every bit as important as that of an aristocrat. This is a daring assertion, and as Mr. B points out to her it is so unusual as to be considered outright rebellion. At this time in history, female servants were pretty much considered fair sexual prey for their masters and the masters' sons. Pamela's story is one that reflects a changing religious and social awareness--for both sexes--in mid-eighteenth-century Britain.

Mass marketing

The painting of Pamela surprised at her writing, which you see higher up on this page, was painted by Joseph Highmore as part of a series in the 1740s. Pamela was already sold as an illustrated text, so these were not commissioned illustrations designed to be included in an edition of the book. Instead, they were Highmore's tribute to Richardson's novel, and he was assured that because of Pamela's popularity his paintings would be well received.

I guess the closest parallel to Highmore's plan would be today's marketing of Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings merchandise. The ambitious artist could sell copies and engravings of his paintings just as today's marketers sell posters and "collectibles." And there were collectibles. In the latter half of the eighteenth century you could buy all kinds of Pamela-oriented souvenirs, including an entire set of china with Pamela illustrations painted on every piece. I'll bet you thought The Franklin Mint invented this kind of stuff! Unlike the Franklin Mint, eighteenth-century manufacturers didn't have to worry about copyright violation and permissions, since the copyright laws weren't in place yet. Richardson had no control over the Pamela knock-off industry, so it was able to thrive in all kinds of ways, many of them somewhat bizarre.

Even Swift's cynical crony, the celebrated poet Alexander Pope, was quoted around town as having said that "Pamela will do more good than many volumes of sermons." Since volumes of sermons were the greatest market share of publishing in those days, this is a pretty daring statement about the novel's power. Not to mention the power of its message. Then again, maybe it just says something about Pope's attitude toward the Anglican church.

In London the theater managers scrambled to produce a number of popular plays based on Pamela, taking advantage of the book's popularity in the days before copyright protection, and clearly demonstrating the shift from raunchy Restoration theater to what was known as "sentimental comedy," or eighteenth-century family-values comedy. If you're interested in finding out more about this shift, you'll find a number of pieces on the subject in the back of Scott McMillin's edition of Restoration and Eighteenth-Century Comedy, a required textbook for this seminar.

You can find a little more information about merchandising and reception of Pamela in the publisher Pickering and Chatto's description of Thomas Keymer and Peter Sabor's six-volume ( ! ) study of the Pamela controversy. More complete reviews of Keymer and Sabor's work can be found in Eighteenth-Century Life 26:2 (Spring 2002) and Eighteenth-Century Studies 35:4 (Summer 2002), available through the Project Muse database.

Naturally, all this popularity led to a backlash, which is where the anti-Pamela part of the Pamela controversy comes in. We'll deal with that in more detail when we get to Joseph Fielding's parody, Shamela.

To see the entirety of Highmore's painting (including Mr. B barging through the door) and more information about Pamela illustrations, see this page on Prominent Artists in Pamela. The link will open a new window on your browser.

A personal confession

Since you've been interested enough to read this far, I'm going to tell you all a little secret about me and Pamela. The first time I encountered this book, many years ago, I disliked it cordially. The tone seemed so overwrought, and the incidents were so farfetched. Yet because it was considered such an important piece of Britain's literary heritage, somehow I'd got it into my head that I was supposed to take it seriously. My reaction was typical of most students the first time they dip into Richardson's novel, and if you check the reader reviews on sites like Amazon.com you'll see just how common it is.