Apprenticeship

[the_comfortable_courtesan]

I huddle over the parlour fire, reading Sandy's letter concerning special licences. I apprehend that Roberts will have to apply in person in order to make the necessary declarations. Therefore I betake myself to the kitchen to convey this intelligence to Seraphine.

There I find her and Roberts keeping company (Roberts holds Julius upon his lap), Phoebe sitting sewing, the girls sitting around the table writing up their books; I wonder not that they gather there, for it is by far the warmest place in the house. I tell them not to disturb themselves, and go over to Seraphine and Roberts to tell them what I have learned.

Can Roberts get himself to Town, I say, Mr MacD- offers all assistance in undertaking the matter.

Roberts finds this most civil in Mr MacD-, and says that he confides that the weather shall hold fine for the next se'ennight. Also there is no urgent business about the gardens at present. Perhaps it would be prudent to obtain the licence whilst conditions are propitious, and then consider where the marriage might take place, for he understands that Seraphine likes not the vicar in her home parish. Indeed not, she says, a very rude fellow.

Roberts says that there is a parson a couple of parishes over that may not be noted for preaching in and out of season or setting any particular good example (he is most known for his love of fishing), but is reputed generous and tolerant, some (by which we all understand Mr G-) would say too generous and tolerant. Perhaps, says Seraphine, I could go talk to him while you are gone.

I tell Roberts to consult with Ajax about taking one of the horses, and advise Seraphine that she may take the chaise, and should desire Hector to accompany her.

I take my leave, tho' sure it is a wrench to leave so cozy a place. I perceive that the girls are all writing very diligent in their books but daresay that once I am gone so will such attentiveness.

I huddle back over the parlour fire and greatly miss my Gothick tale. I take another blank book from the shelf but cannot think of anything to write in it.

Then I think, o, had I had a fine book to write in when I was in my apprenticeship, I wonder what I should have put in it?

For my entry into my profession was somewhat out of the common. My mother was in some despair about what trade to put me to, for I had nothing of the skills that made her such an excellent wardrobe mistress, and it had become sadly apparent that I could not expect a career on the stage. But I did have very fine looks: indeed, gentlemen that came backstage to visit the actresses would often give me sixpence for a kiss, pinch my cheek, &C. I had no particular talents except that, in spite of my dear mother's chidings, I was exceeding silly with young men, that show'd me a very promising novice in the service of Venus.

This became even more worrisome to her as she found herself to be struck with an ailment that was like to prove mortal quite shortly.

She happened to have particular interest with one of the actresses, whose defects of figure she was able skilfully to conceal by her arts, and one day was lamenting that a child with such looks was nonetheless inapt for a theatrical career that would at least put her in the way of generous patronage. Ah, says the actress, you must know Madame Z-, that is the very noted courtesan, is a great friend of mine. She looks about her for a young woman or two that she can bring on in her profession. I would happily prefer your young Miss C- to her, for indeed she promises to become a great beauty, has a pretty deportment, &C, and - at which point no doubt remembers that my mother may not be aware of my romps with young Mr J- and others and falls silent rather than suggest that I already have some disposition towards that occupation.

My dear parent, assured that this would mean the very heights of harlotry, patrons of wealth and rank, everything of the finest, put the matter to me. Sure I was a silly young thing, but I by no means fancied a life on the streets and thought the Covent Garden misses that came to the theatre coarse and vulgar. But I had seen Madame Z- in the boxes with her patrons and was already very taken by her presence.

O yes, says I, I should like that most extremely. An interview was arranged with Madame Z-.

This was in her fine house, where she sits with one of her lapdogs in her lap and several more about her skirts (I grew to detest these dreadfull spoilt creatures that I was oblig'd to attend to), and looks me up and down. Pretty enough, she says, walk about a bit, which I do, and she also asks me to speak, so I give her that speech of Juliet's that goes Gallop apace, ye fiery-footed steeds (for so be it not on a stage, I can speak Shakspeare very effective). Hmm, she says, a good deportment and a very refined way of speech, why are you not putting her to the stage? My mother explains. Well, she says, I see I have less fashioning to undertake than might be expected, the girl shows promise, is she a virgin?

My mother and I both blush exceedingly, I cast down my eyes and mumble a denial that I am still in that state.

Also good, says Madame Z-, I am not interested in that trade which auctions maidenheads. A very promising prospect, I should be happy to take her into my household and train her further, in the expectation that she would make herself usefull about the place until she is fit to be introduced to patrons.

The matter is concluded and I move into Madame Z-'s house, where I share a chamber with her other protégée, that will become my dearest Miss G-, who is some connection of Madame Z-'s, and embark upon my career as a votaress of Venus.

Comments

[nenya_kanadka]

Fascinating! I had no idea Mme C- had official training by a predecessor in her art. Now I wonder if she herself will eventually be taking on students?

[tree_and_leaf]

Fascinating as always. I'd somehow taken the notion that Miss G was slightly younger than Mme C, but it seems I am in error.

[the_comfortable_courtesan]

Much the same age, but Madame C- has always considered herself The Responsible One (in spite of picking drunken young men duke's sons out of the gutter and taking them home for a bath).

[tree_and_leaf]

Ah, that makes a great deal of sense!