Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749)Cleland, John
General
Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749)
Cleland, John
England -- Fiction; Erotic fiction; Prostitutes -- Fiction
These desertions had, however, now so far thinned Mrs. Cole’s cluck
that she was left with only me, like a hen with one chicken; but though
she was earnestly entreated and encouraged to recruit her crops, her
growing infirmities, and, above all, the tortures, of a stubborn hip
gout, which she found would yield to no remedy, determined her to break
up her business, and retire with a decent pittance into the country,
where I promised myself, nothing so sure, as my going down to live with
her, as soon as I had seen a little more of life, and improved my small
matters into a competency that would create in me an independence on
the world: for I was now, thanks to Mrs. Cole, wise enough to keep that
essential in view.
Thus was I then to lose my faithful preceptress, as did the
philosophers of the town the white crow of her profession. For besides
that she never ransacked her customers, whose tastes too she ever
studiously consulted, she never racked her pupils with unconscionable
extortions, nor ever put their hard earnings, as she called them, under
the contribution of poundage. She was a severe enemy to the seduction
for innocence, and confined her acquisitions solely to those
unfortunate young women, who, having lost it, were but the juster
objects of compassion: among these, indeed, she picked out such as
suited her views and taking them under her protection, rescued them
from the danger of the public sinks of ruin and misery, to place, or
for them, well or ill, in the manner you have seen. Having then settled
her affairs, she set out on her journey, after taking the most tender
leave of me, and at the end of some excellent instructions,
recommending me to myself, with an anxiety perfectly maternal. In
short, she affected me so much, that I was not presently reconciled to
myself for suffering her at any rate to go without me; but fate had, it
seems, otherwise disposed of me.
I had, on my separation from Mrs. Cole, taken a pleasant convenient
house at Marylebone, but easy to rent and manage from its smallness,
which I furnished neatly and modestly. There, with a reserve of eight
hundred pounds, the fruit of my deference to Mrs. Cole’s counsels,
exclusive of clothes, some jewels, and some plate, I saw myself in
purse for a long time, to wait without impatience for what the chapter
of accidents might produce in my favour.
Here, under the new character of a young gentlewoman whose husband was
gone to sea, I had marked me out such lines of life and conduct, as
leaving me a competent liberty to pursue my views either out of
pleasure or fortune, bounded me nevertheless strictly within the rules
of decency and discretion: a disposition, in which you cannot escape
observing a true pupil of Mrs. Cole.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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