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
It was pretty late in a summer evening when we reached the town, in our
slow conveyance, though drawn by six at length. As we passed through
the greatest streets that led to our inn, the noise, of the coaches,
the hurry, the crowds of foot passengers, in short, the new scenery of
the shops and houses, at once pleased and amazed me.
But guess at my mortification and surprise when we came to the inn, and
our things were landed and delivered to us, when my fellow traveller
and protectress, Esther Davis, who had used me with the utmost
tenderness during the journey, and prepared me by no preceedings signs
for the stunning blow I was to receive, when I say, my only dependence
and friend, in this strange place, all of a sudden assumed a strange
and cool air towards me, as if she dreaded my becoming a burden to her.
Instead, then, of proffering me the continuance of her assistance and
good offices, which I relied upon, and never more wanted, she thought
herself, it seems, abundantly acquitted of her engagements to me, by
having brought me safe to my journey’s end, and seeing nothing in her
procedure towards me but what natural and in order, began to embrace me
by the way of taking leave, whilst I was so confounded, so struck, that
I had not spirit or sense enough so much as to mention my hopes or
expectations from her experience, and knowledge of the place she had
brought me to.
Whilst I stood thus stupid and mute, which she doubtless attributed to
nothing more than a concern at parting, this idea procured me perhaps a
slight alleviation of it, in the following harangue: “That now we were
got safe to London, and that she was obliged to go to her place, she
advised me by all means to get into one as soon as possible; that I
need not fear getting one; there were more places than parish-churches;
that she advised me to go to an intelligence office; that if she heard
of any thing stirring, she would find me out and let me know; that in
the meantime, I should take a private lodging, and acquaint her where
to send to me; that she wished me good luck, and hoped I should always
have the grace to keep myself honest, and not bringing a disgrace on my
parentage.” With this; she took her leave of me, and left me, as it
were, on my own hands, full as lightly as I had been put into hers.
Left thus alone, absolutely destitute and friendless I began then to
feel most bitterly the severity of this separation, the scene of which
had passed in a little room in the inn; and no sooner was her back
turned, but the affliction I felt at my helpless strange circumstances,
burst out into a flood of tears, which infinitely relieved the
oppression of my heart; though I still remained stupified, and most
perfectly perplexed how to dispose of myself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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