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
One of the drawers coming in, added yet more to my uncertainty, by
asking me, in a short way, if I called for anything? to which I replied
innocently: “No.” But I wished him to tell me where I might get a
lodging for that night. He said he would go and speak to his mistress,
who accordingly came, and told me drily, without entering in the least
into the distress she saw me in, that I might have a bed for a
shilling, and that, as she supposed I had some friends in town (there I
fetched a deep sigh in vain!), I might provide for myself in the
morning.
It is incredible what trifling consolations the human mind will seize
in its greatest afflictions. The assurance of nothing more than a bed
to lie on that night, calmed my agonies; and being ashamed to acquaint
the mistress of the inn that I had no friends to apply to in town, I
proposed to myself to proceed, the very next morning, to an
intelligence office, to which I was furnished with written directions
on the back of a ballad, Esther had given me. There I counted on
getting information of any place that such a country girl as I might be
fit for, and where I could get into any sort of being, before my little
stock should be consumed; and as to a character, Esther had often
repeated to me, that I might depend on her managing me one; nor,
however affected I was at her leaving me thus, did I entirely cease to
rely on her, as I began to think, good-naturedly, that her procedure
was all in course, and that is was only my ignorance of life that had
made me take it in the light I at first did.
Accordingly, the next morning I dressed myself as clean and as neat as
my rustic wardrobe would permit me; and having left my box, with
special recommendation, with the landlady, I ventured out by myself,
and without any more difficulty than can be supposed of a young country
girl, barely fifteen, and to whom every sign or shop was a gazing trap,
I got to the wished for intelligence office.
It was kept by an elderly woman, who sat at the receipt of custom, with
a book before her in great form and order, and several scrolls made
out, of directions for places.
I made up then to this important personage, without lifting up my eyes
or observing any of the people round me, who were attending there on
the same errand as myself, and dropping her curtsies nine deep, just
made a shift to stammer out my business to her.
Madam heard me out, with all the gravity and brow of a petty minister
of State, and seeing at one glance over my figure what I was, made me
no answer, but to ask me the preliminary shilling, on receipt of which
she told me places for women too slight built for hard work: but that
she would look over her book, and see what was to be done for me,
desiring me to stay a little, till she had dispatched some other
customers.
On this I drew back a little, most heartily mortified at a declaration
which carried with it a killing uncertainly, that my circumstances
could not well endure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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