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
And why should I here suppress the delight I received from this amiable
creature, in remarking each artless look, each motion of pure
indissembled nature, betrayed by his wanton eyes; or shewing,
transparently, the glow and suffusion of blood through his fresh, clear
skin, whilst even his stury rustic pressure wanted not their peculiar
charm? Oh! but, say you, this was a young fellow of too low a rank of
life to deserve so great a display. May be so: but was my condition,
strictly considered, one jot more exalted? or, had I really been much
above him, did not his capacity of giving such exquisite pleasure
sufficiently raise and enoble him, to me, at least? Let who would, for
me cherish, respect, and reward the painter’s, the statuary’s, the
musician’s art, in proportion to the delight taken in them: but at my
age, and with my taste for pleasure, a taste strongly constitutional to
me, the talent of pleasing, with which nature has endowed a handsome
person, formed to me the greatest of all merits; compared to which, the
vulgar prejudices in favour of titles, dignities, honours, and the
like, held a very low rank indeed. Nor perhaps would the beauties of
the body be so much affected to be held cheap, were they, in their
nature, to be bought and delivered. But for me, whose natural
philosophy all resided in the favourite center of sense, and who was
ruled by its powerful instinct in taking pleasure by its right handle,
I could scarce have made a choice more to my purpose.
Mr. H....’s loftier qualifications of birth, fortune and sense, laid me
under a sort of subjection and constraint, that were far from making
harmony in the concert of love; nor had he, perhaps, thought me worth
softening that superiority to; but, with this lad, I was more on the
level which love delights in.
We may say what we please, but those we can be the easiest and freest
with, are ever those we like, not to say love the best.
With this stripling, all whose art of love was the action of it, I
could, without check of awe or restraint, give a loose to jay, and
execute every scheme of dalliance my fond fancy might put me on, in
which he was, in every sense, a most exquisite companion. And now my
great pleasure lay in humouring all the petulances, all the wanton
frolic of a raw novice just fledged, and keen on the burning scent of
his game, but unbroken to the sport: and, to carry on the figure, who
could better read the wood than he, or stand fairer for the heart of
the hunt?
He advanced then to my bed side, and whilst he faultered out his
message, I could observe his colour rise, and his eyes lighten with
joy, in seeing me in a situation as favourable to his loosest wishes,
as if he had bespoke the play.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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