Memoirs of Fanny Hill
nor had I, indeed, occasion; for, were I to enter here on the recital
of several instances wherein Charles sacrificed to me women of much
greater importance than I dare hint (which, considering his form, was
no such wonder), I might, indeed, give you full proof of his unshaken
constancy to me; but would not you accuse me of warming up against a
feast, which my vanity ought long ago to have been satisfied with?
In our cessations from active pleasure, Charles framed himself one, in
instructing me, as far as his own lights reached, in a great many
points of life, that I was, in consequence of my no-education,
perfectly ignorant of: nor did I suffer one word to fall in vain from
the mouth of my lovely teacher: I hung on every syllable he uttered,
and received, as oracles, all he said; whilst kisses were all the
interruption I could not refuse myself the pleasure of admitting, from
lips that breathed more than Arabian sweetness, I was in a little time
enabled, by the progress I had made, to prove the deep regard I had
paid to all that he had said to me: repeating it to him almost word for
word; and to shew that I was not entirely the parrot, but that I
reflected upon, that I entered into it, I joined my own comments, and
asked him questions of explanation.
My country accent, and the rusticity of my gait, manners, and
deportment, began now sensibly to wear off: so quick was my
observation, and so efficacious my desire of growing every day worthier
of his heart.
As to money, though, he brought me constantly all he received, it was
with difficulty he even got me to give it room in my bureau; and what
clothes I had, he could prevail on me to accept of on no other foot,
than that of pleasing him by the greater neatness in my dress, beyond
which I had no ambition. I could have made a pleasure of the greatest
toil, and worked my fingers to the bone, with joy, to have supported
him: guess, then, if I could harbour any idea of being burthensome to
him, and this disinterested turn in me was so unaffected, so much the
dictate of my heart, that Charles could not but feel it: and if he did
not love me as much as I did him (which was the constant and only
matter of sweet contention between us), he managed so, at least, as to
give me the satisfaction of believing it impossible for man to be more
tender, more true, more faithful than he was.
Our landlady, Mrs. Jones, came frequently up to my apartment, from
whence I never stirred on any pretext without Charles; nor was it long
before she wormed out, without much art, the secret of our having
cheated the church of a ceremony, and, in course, of the terms we lived
together upon; a circumstance which far from displeased her,
considering the designs she had upon me, and which, alas! she will have
too soon, room to carry into execution. But in the meantime, her own
experience of life let her see, that any attempt, however indirect or
disguised, to divert or break, at least presently, so strong a cement
of hearts as ours was, could only end in losing two lodgers, of whom
she had made very competent advantages, if either of us came to smoke
her commission, for a commission she had from one of her customers,
either to debauch, or get me away from my keeper at any rate.
But the barbarity of my fate soon saved her the task of disuniting us.
I had now been eleven months with this life of my life, which had
passed in one continued rapid stream of delight: but nothing so violent
was ever made to last. I was about three months gone with a child by
him, a circumstances would have added to his tenderness, had he ever
left me room to believe it could receive an addition, when the mortal,
the unexpected blow of separation fell upon us. I shall gallop
post-over the particulars, which I shudder yet to think of, and cannot;
to this instant, reconcile myself how, or by what means I could
out-live it.
Two live-long days had I lingered through without hearing from him, I
who breathed, who existed but in him, and had never yet seen
twenty-four hours pass without seeing or hearing from him. The third
day my impatience was so strong, my alarms had been so severe, that I
perfectly sickened with them; and being unable to support the shock
longer, I sunk upon the bed, and ringing for Mrs. Jones, who had far
from comforted me under my anxieties, she came up, and I had scarce
breath and spirit enough to find words to beg of her, if she would save
my life, to fall upon some means of finding out, instantly, what was
become of its only prop and comfort. She pitied me in a way that rather
sharpened my affliction than suspended it, and went out upon this
commission.
For she had but to go to Charles’s house, who lived but an easy
distance, in one of the streets that run into Covent Garden. There she
went into a public house, and from thence sent for a mid servant, whose
name I had given her, as the properest to inform her.
The maid readily came, and as readily, when Mrs. Jones enquired of her
what had become of Mr. Charles, or whether he was gone out of town,
acquainted her with the disposal of her master’s son, which, the very
day after, was no secret to the servants. Such sure measures had he
taken, for the most cruel punishment of his child for having more
interest with his grandmother than he had, though he made use of a
pretence, plausible enough, to get rid of him in this secret abrupt
manner, for fear her fondness should have interposed a bar to his
leaving England, and proceeding on a voyage he had concerted for him;
which pretext was, that it was indispensably necessary to secure a
considerable inheritance that devolved to him by the death of a rich
merchant (his own brother) at one of the factories in the South Seas,
of which he had lately received advice, together with a copy of the
will.
In consequence of which resolution, to send away his son, he had,
unknown to him, made the necessary preparations for fitting him out,
struck a bargain with the captain of a ship, whose punctual execution
of his orders he had secured, by his interest with his principal owners
and patron; and, in short, concerted his measures so secretly, and
effectually, that whilst the son thought he was going down to the
river, that would take him a few hours, he was stopt on board of a
ship, debarred from writing, and more strictly watched than a State
criminal.
Thus was the idol of my soul torn from me, and forced on a long voyage,
without taking leave of one friend, or receiving one line of comfort,
except a dry explanation and instructions, from his father, how to
proceed when he should arrive at his destined port, enclosing, withal,
some letters of recommendation to a factor there: all these particulars
I did not learn minutely till some time after.
The maid, at the same time, added, that she was sure this usage of her
sweet young master would be the death of his grand-mamma, as indeed it
proved true; for the old lady, on hearing it, did not survive the news
a whole month, and as her fortune consisted in an annuity, out of which
she had laid up no reserves, she left nothing worth mentioning to her
so fatally envied darling, but absolutely refused to see his father
before she died.
When Mrs. Jones returned, and I observed her looks, they seemed so
unconcerned, and even nearest to pleased, that I half flattered myself
she was going to set my tortured heart at ease, by bringing me good
news; but this, indeed, was a cruel delusion of hope: the barbarian,
with all the coolness imaginable, stabs me to the heart, in telling me,
succinctly, that he was sent away, at least, on a four years’ voyage
(here she stretched maliciously), and that I could not expect, in
reason, ever to see him again: and all this with such pregnant
circumstances, that I could not escape giving them credit, as they
were, indeed, too true!
She had hardly finished her report before I fainted away, and after
several successive fits, all the while wild and senseless, I miscarried
of the dear pledge of my Charles’s love; but the wretched never die
when it is fittest they should die, and women are hard-lived! to a
proverb.
The cruel and interested care taken to recover me, saved an odious
life: which, instead of the happiness and joys it had overflower in,
all of a sudden presented no view before me of any thing but the depth
of misery, horror, and the sharpest affliction.
Thus I lay six weeks, in the struggles of youth and constitution,
against the friendly efforts of death, which I constantly invoked to my
relief and deliverance, but which proved too weak for my wish. I
recovered at length, but into a state of stupefaction and despair, that
threatened me with the loss of my senses, and a mad house.
Time, however, that great comforter in ordinary, began to assuage the
violence of my suffering, and to numb my feeling of them. My health
returned to me, though I still retained an air of grief, dejection, and
languor, which taking off from the ruddiness of my country complexion,
rendered it rather more delicate and affecting.
The landlady had all this while officiously provided, and seen that I
wanted for nothing: and as soon as she saw me retrieved into a
condition of answering her purpose, one day, after we had dined
together, she congratulated me on my recovery, the merit of which she
took entirely to herself, and all this by way of introduction to a most
terrible, and scurvy epilogue: “You are now,” says she, “Miss Fanny,
tolerably well, and you are very welcome to stay in these lodgings as;
long as you please! you see I have asked you for nothing this long
time, but truly I have a call to make up a sum of money, which must be
answered.” And, with that, presents me with a bill of arrears for rent,
diet, apothecaries’ charges, nurse, etc., sum total twenty-three
pounds, seventeen and six-pence: towards discharging of which I had not
in the world (which she well knew) more than seven guineas, left by
chance, of my dear Charles’s common stock, with me. At the same time,
she desired me to tell her what course I would take for payment. I
burst out into a flood of tears, and told her my condition: that I
would sell what few clothes I had, and that, for the rest, would pay
her as soon as possible. But my distress, being favourable to her view,
only stiffened her the more.
She told me, very cooly, that “she was indeed sorry for my misfortunes,
but that she must do herself justice, though it would go to the very
heart of her to send such a tender young creature to prison....” At the
word “prison!” every drop of my blood chilled, and my fright acted so
strongly upon me, that, turning as pale and faint as a criminal at the
first sight of his place of execution, I was on the point of swooning.
My landlady, who wanted only to terrify me to a certain point, and not
to throw me into a state of body inconsistent with her designs upon it,
began to sooth me again, and told me, in a tone composed to more pity
and gentleness, that “it would be my own fault, if she was forced to
proceed to such extremities; but she believed there was a friend to be
found in the world, who would make up matters to both our
satisfactions, and that she would bring him to drink tea with us that
very afternoon, when she hoped we would come to a right understanding
in our affairs.” To all this, not a word of answer; I sat mute,
confounded, terrified.
Mrs. Jones, however, judging rightly that it was time to strike while
the impressions were so strong upon me, left me to myself and to all
the terrors of an imagination, wounded to death by the idea of going to
prison, and, from a principle of self-preservation, snatching at every
glimpse of redemption from it.
In this situation I sat near half an hour, swallowed up in grief and