Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749)Cleland, John
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Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749)
Cleland, John
England -- Fiction; Erotic fiction; Prostitutes -- Fiction
I was scarce, however, well warm in my new abode, when going out one
morning pretty early to enjoy the freshness of it, in the pleasing
outlet of the fields, accompanied only by a maid, whom I had newly
hired, as we were carelessly walking among the trees, we were alarmed
with the noise of a violent coughing: turning our heads towards which,
we distinguished a plain well dressed elderly gentleman, who, attacked
with a sudden fit, was so much overcome, as to be forced to give way to
it and sit down at the foot of a tree, where he seemed suffocating with
the severity of it, being perfectly black in the face; not less moved
than frightened with which, I flew on the instant to his relief, and
using the rote of practice I had observed on the like occasion, I
loosened his cravat and clapped him on the back; but whether to any
purpose, or whether the cough had had its course, I know not, but the
fit immediately went off; and now recovered to his speech and legs, he
returned me thanks with as much emphasis as if I had saved his life.
This naturally engaging a conversation, he acquainted me where he
lived, which was at a considerable distance from where I met him, and
where he had strayed insensibly on the same intention of a morning
walk.
He was, as I afterwards learned in the course of the intimacy which
this little accident gave birth to, an old bachelor, turned of sixty,
but of a fresh vigorous complexion, insomuch that he scarce marked five
and forty, having never racked his constitution by permitting his
desires to over-tax his ability.
As to his birth and conditions, his parents, honest and failed
mechanics, had, by the best traces he could get of them, left him an
infant orphan on the parish; so that it was from a charity-school,
that, by honesty and industry, he made his way into a merchant’s
counting house, from whence, being sent to a house in Cadiz, he there,
by his talents and activity, acquired not only a fortune, but an
immense one, with which he returned to his native country; where he
could not, however, fish out so much as one single relation out of the
obscurity he was born in. Taking then a taste for refinement, and
pleased to enjoy life, like a mistress in the dark, he flowed his days
in all the ease of opulence, without the least parade of it; and,
rather studying the concealment than the shew of a fortune, looked down
on a world he perfectly knew himself, to his wish, unknown and unmarked
by.
But, as I propose to devote a letter entirely to the pleasure of
retracing to you all the particulars of my acquaintance with this ever,
to me, memorable friend, I shall, in this, transiently touch on no more
than may serve, as mortar, to cement, or form the connection of my
history, and to obviate your surprise that one of my blood and relish
of life, should count a gallant of three score such a catch.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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