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
We visited one another in form, and mimicked, as near as we could, all
the miseries, the follies, and impertinencies of the women in quality,
in the round of which they trifle away their time, without it ever
entering their little heads, that on earth there cannot subsist any
thing more silly, more flat, more insipid and worthless, than,
generally considered, their system of life is: they ought to treat the
men as their tyrants, indeed! were they to condemn them to it.
But though, amongst the kept mistresses (and I was now acquainted with
a good many, besides some useful matrons, who live by their connexions
with them), I hardly knew one that did not perfectly detest their
keepers, and, of course, made little or no scruple of any infidelity
they could safely accomplish, I had still no notion of wronging mine:
for, besides that no mark of jealousy on his side started me the hint,
or gave me the provocation to play him a trick of that sort, and that
his constant generosity, politeness, and tender attention to please me,
forced a regard to him, that, without affecting my heart, insured him
my fidelity, no object had yet presented that could overcome the
habitual liking I had contracted for him and I was on the eve of
obtaining, from the movements of his own voluntary generosity, a modest
provision for life, when an accident happened which broke all the
measures he had resolved upon in my favour.
I had now lived near seven months with Mr. H.... when one day returning
to my lodgings, from a visit in the neighbourhood, where I used to stay
longer, I found the street door open, and the maid of the house
standing at it, talking with some of her acquaintance, so that I came
in without knocking and, as I passed by, she told me Mr. H.... was
above. I slept up stairs into my own bed-chamber, with no other thought
than of pulling off my hat etc., and then to wait upon him in the
dining room, into which my bed-chamber had a door, as is common enough.
Whilst I was untying my hat strings, I fancied I heard my maid Hannah’s
voice and a sort of tustle, which raised my curiosity; I stole softly
to the door, where a knot in the wood had been slipped out, and
afforded a very commanding peep-hole to the scene then in agitation,
the actors of which had been to earnestly employed to hear my opening
my own door, from the landing place of the stairs, into my bedchamber.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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