The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Volume 01
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Title: The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Volume 01
Author: T. Smollett
Release date: October 1, 2004 [eBook #6759]
Most recently updated: October 20, 2014
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND COUNT FATHOM — VOLUME 01 ***
Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger
THE ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND COUNT FATHOM
by Tobias Smollett
COMPLETE IN TWO PARTS
PART I.
With the Author's Preface, and an Introduction by G. H. Maynadier, Ph.D.
Department of English, Harvard University.
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
PREFATORY ADDRESS
CHAPTER
I Some sage Observations that naturally introduce our important
History
II A superficial View of our Hero's Infancy
III He is initiated in a Military Life, and has the good Fortune
to acquire a generous Patron
IV His Mother's Prowess and Death; together with some Instances
of his own Sagacity
V A brief Detail of his Education
VI He meditates Schemes of Importance
VII Engages in Partnership with a female Associate, in order to
put his Talents in Action
VIII Their first Attempt; with a Digression which some Readers
may think impertinent
IX The Confederates change their Battery, and achieve a remarkable
Adventure
X They proceed to levy Contributions with great Success, until
our Hero sets out with the young Count for Vienna, where he
enters into League with another Adventurer
XI Fathom makes various Efforts in the World of Gallantry
XII He effects a Lodgment in the House of a rich Jeweller
XIII He is exposed to a most perilous Incident in the Course of his
Intrigue with the Daughter
XIV He is reduced to a dreadful Dilemma, in consequence of an
Assignation with the Wife
XV But at length succeeds in his Attempt upon both
XVI His Success begets a blind Security, by which he is once again
well-nigh entrapped in his Dulcinea's Apartment
XVII The Step-dame's Suspicions being awakened, she lays a Snare
for our Adventurer, from which he is delivered by the
Interposition of his Good Genius
XVIII Our Hero departs from Vienna, and quits the Domain of Venus
for the rough Field of Mars
XIX He puts himself under the Guidance of his Associate, and
stumbles upon the French Camp, where he finishes his
Military Career
XX He prepares a Stratagem, but finds himself countermined--
Proceeds on his Journey, and is overtaken by a terrible
Tempest
XXI He falls upon Scylla, seeking to avoid Charybdis.
XXII He arrives at Paris, and is pleased with his Reception
XXIII Acquits himself with Address in a Nocturnal Riot
XXIV He overlooks the Advances of his Friends, and smarts severely
for his Neglect
XXV He bears his Fate like a Philosopher; and contracts
acquaintance with a very remarkable Personage
XXVI The History of the Noble Castilian
XXVII A flagrant Instance of Fathom's Virtue, in the Manner of his
Retreat to England
XXVIII Some Account of his Fellow-Travellers
XXIX Another providential Deliverance from the Effects of the
Smuggler's ingenious Conjecture
XXX The singular Manner of Fathom's Attack and Triumph over the
Virtue of the fair Elenor
XXXI He by accident encounters his old Friend, with whom he holds
a Conference, and renews a Treaty
XXXII He appears in the great World with universal Applause and
Admiration
XXXIII He attracts the Envy and Ill Offices of the minor Knights of
his own Order, over whom he obtains a complete Victory
XXXIV He performs another Exploit, that conveys a true Idea of his
Gratitude and Honour
XXXV He repairs to Bristol Spring, where he reigns paramount during
the whole Season
XXXVI He is smitten with the Charms of a Female Adventurer, whose
Allurements subject him to a new Vicissitude of Fortune
XXXVII Fresh Cause for exerting his Equanimity and Fortitude
XXXVIII The Biter is Bit
INTRODUCTION
The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom, Smollett's third novel, was
given to the world in 1753. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, writing to her
daughter, the Countess of Bute, over a year later [January 1st, 1755],
remarked that "my friend Smollett . . . has certainly a talent for
invention, though I think it flags a little in his last work." Lady Mary
was both right and wrong. The inventive power which we commonly think of
as Smollett's was the ability to work over his own experience into
realistic fiction. Of this, Ferdinand Count Fathom shows comparatively
little. It shows relatively little, too, of Smollett's vigorous
personality, which in his earlier works was present to give life and
interest to almost every chapter, were it to describe a street brawl, a
ludicrous situation, a whimsical character, or with venomous prejudice to
gibbet some enemy. This individuality--the peculiar spirit of the author
which can be felt rather than described--is present in the dedication of
Fathom to Doctor ------, who is no other than Smollett himself, and a
candid revelation of his character, by the way, this dedication contains.
It is present, too, in the opening chapters, which show, likewise, in the
picture of Fathom's mother, something of the author's peculiar "talent
for invention." Subsequently, however, there is no denying that the
Smollett invention and the Smollett spirit both flag. And yet, in a way,
Fathom displays more invention than any of the author's novels; it is
based far less than any other on personal experience. Unfortunately
such thorough-going invention was not suited to Smollett's genius. The
result is, that while uninteresting as a novel of contemporary manners,
Fathom has an interest of its own in that it reveals a new side of its
author. We think of Smollett, generally, as a rambling storyteller, a
rational, unromantic man of the world, who fills his pages with his own
oddly-metamorphosed acquaintances and experiences. The Smollett of Count
Fathom, on the contrary, is rather a forerunner of the romantic school,
who has created a tolerably organic tale of adventure out of his own
brain. Though this is notably less readable than the author's earlier
works, still the wonder is that when the man is so far "off his beat," he
should yet know so well how to meet the strange conditions which confront
him. To one whose idea of Smollett's genius is formed entirely by Random
and Pickle and Humphry Clinker, Ferdinand Count Fathom will offer many
surprises.
The first of these is the comparative lifelessness of the book. True,
here again are action and incident galore, but generally unaccompanied by
that rough Georgian hurly-burly, common in Smollett, which is so
interesting to contemplate from a comfortable distance, and which goes so
far towards making his fiction seem real. Nor are the characters, for
the most part, life-like enough to be interesting. There is an apparent
exception, to be sure, in the hero's mother, already mentioned, the
hardened camp-follower, whom we confidently expect to become vitalised
after the savage fashion of Smollett's characters. But, alas! we have no
chance to learn the lady's style of conversation, for the few words that
come from her lips are but partially characteristic; we have only too
little chance to learn her manners and customs. In the fourth chapter,
while she is making sure with her dagger that all those on the field of
battle whom she wishes to rifle are really dead, an officer of the
hussars, who has been watching her lucrative progress, unfeelingly puts a
brace of bullets into the lady's brain, just as she raises her hand to
smite him to the heart. Perhaps it is as well that she is thus removed
before our disappointment at the non-fulfilment of her promise becomes
poignant. So far as we may judge from the other personages of Count
Fathom, even this interesting Amazon would sooner or later have turned
into a wooden figure, with a label giving the necessary information as to
her character.
Such certainly is her son, Fathom, the hero of the book. Because he is
placarded, "Shrewd villain of monstrous inhumanity," we are fain to
accept him for what his creator intended; but seldom in word or deed is
he a convincingly real villain. His friend and foil, the noble young
Count de Melvil, is no more alive than he; and equally wooden are Joshua,
the high-minded, saint-like Jew, and that tedious, foolish Don Diego.
Neither is the heroine alive, the peerless Monimia, but then, in her
case, want of vitality is not surprising; the presence of it would amaze
us. If she were a woman throbbing with life, she would be different from
Smollett's other heroines. The "second lady" of the melodrama,
Mademoiselle de Melvil, though by no means vivified, is yet more real
than her sister-in-law.
The fact that they are mostly inanimate figures is not the only surprise
given us by the personages of Count Fathom. It is a surprise to find few
of them strikingly whimsical; it is a surprise to find them in some cases
far more distinctly conceived than any of the people in Roderick Random
or Peregrine Pickle. In the second of these, we saw Smollett beginning
to understand the use of incident to indicate consistent development of
character. In Count Fathom, he seems fully to understand this principle
of art, though he has not learned to apply it successfully. And so, in
spite of an excellent conception, Fathom, as I have said, is unreal.
After all his villainies, which he perpetrates without any apparent
qualms of conscience, it is incredible that he should honestly repent of
his crimes. We are much inclined to doubt when we read that "his vice
and ambition was now quite mortified within him," the subsequent
testimony of Matthew Bramble, Esq., in Humphry Clinker, to the contrary,
notwithstanding. Yet Fathom up to this point is consistently drawn, and
drawn for a purpose:--to show that cold-blooded roguery, though
successful for a while, will come to grief in the end. To heighten the
effect of his scoundrel, Smollett develops parallel with him the virtuous
Count de Melvil. The author's scheme of thus using one character as the
foil of another, though not conspicuous for its originality, shows a
decided advance in the theory of constructive technique. Only, as I have
said, Smollett's execution is now defective.
"But," one will naturally ask, "if Fathom lacks the amusing, and not
infrequently stimulating, hurly-burly of Smollett's former novels; if its
characters, though well-conceived, are seldom divertingly fantastic and
never thoroughly animate; what makes the book interesting?" The surprise
will be greater than ever when the answer is given that, to a large
extent, the plot makes Fathom interesting. Yes, Smollett, hitherto
indifferent to structure, has here written a story in which the plot
itself, often clumsy though it may be, engages a reader's attention. One
actually wants to know whether the young Count is ever going to receive
consolation for his sorrows and inflict justice on his basely ungrateful
pensioner. And when, finally, all turns out as it should, one is amazed
to find how many of the people in the book have helped towards the
designed conclusion. Not all of them, indeed, nor all of the adventures,
are indispensable, but it is manifest at the end that much, which, for
the time, most readers think irrelevant--such as Don Diego's history--is,
after all, essential.
It has already been said that in Count Fathom Smollett appears to some
extent as a romanticist, and this is another fact which lends interest to
the book. That he had a powerful imagination is not a surprise. Any one
versed in Smollett has already seen it in the remarkable situations which
he has put before us in his earlier works. These do not indicate,
however, that Smollett possessed the imagination which could excite
romantic interest; for in Roderick Random and in Peregrine Pickle, the
wonderful situations serve chiefly to amuse. In Fathom, however, there
are some designed to excite horror; and one, at least, is eminently
successful. The hero's night in the wood between Bar-le-duc and Chalons
was no doubt more blood-curdling to our eighteenth-century ancestors than
it is to us, who have become acquainted with scores of similar situations
in the small number of exciting romances which belong to literature, and
in the greater number which do not. Still, even to-day, a reader, with
his taste jaded by trashy novels, will be conscious of Smollett's power,
and of several thrills, likewise, as he reads about Fathom's experience
in the loft in which the beldame locks him to pass the night.
This situation is melodramatic rather than romantic, as the word is used
technically in application to eighteenth and nineteenth-century
literature. There is no little in Fathom, however, which is genuinely
romantic in the latter sense. Such is the imprisonment of the Countess
in the castle-tower, whence she waves her handkerchief to the young
Count, her son and would-be rescuer. And especially so is the scene in
the church, when Renaldo (the very name is romantic) visits at midnight
the supposed grave of his lady-love. While he was waiting for the sexton
to open the door, his "soul . . . was wound up to the highest pitch of
enthusiastic sorrow. The uncommon darkness, . . . the solemn silence,
and lonely situation of the place, conspired with the occasion of his
coming, and the dismal images of his fancy, to produce a real rapture of
gloomy expectation, which the whole world could not have persuaded him to
disappoint. The clock struck twelve, the owl screeched from the ruined
battlement, the door was opened by the sexton, who, by the light of a
glimmering taper, conducted the despairing lover to a dreary aisle, and
stamped upon the ground with his foot, saying, 'Here the young lady lies
interred.'"
We have here such an amount of the usual romantic machinery of the
"grave-yard" school of poets--that school of which Professor W. L. Phelps
calls Young, in his Night Thoughts, the most "conspicuous exemplar"--that
one is at first inclined to think Smollett poking fun at it. The
context, however, seems to prove that he was perfectly serious. It is
interesting, then, as well as surprising, to find traces of the romantic
spirit in his fiction over ten years before Walpole's Castle of Otranto.
It is also interesting to find so much melodramatic feeling in him,
because it makes stronger the connection between him and his
nineteenth-century disciple, Dickens.
From all that I have said, it must not be thought that the usual Smollett
is always, or almost always, absent from Count Fathom. I have spoken of
the dedication and of the opening chapters as what we might expect from
his pen. There are, besides, true Smollett strokes in the scenes in the
prison from which Melvil rescues Fathom, and there is a good deal of the
satirical Smollett fun in the description of Fathom's ups and downs,
first as the petted beau, and then as the fashionable doctor. In
chronicling the latter meteoric career, Smollett had already observed the
peculiarity of his countrymen which Thackeray was fond of harping on in
the next century--"the maxim which universally prevails among the English
people . . . to overlook, . . . on their return to the metropolis,
all the connexions they may have chanced to acquire during their
residence at any of the medical wells. And this social disposition is
so scrupulously maintained, that two persons who live in the most
intimate correspondence at Bath or Tunbridge, shall, in four-and-twenty
hours . . . meet in St. James's Park, without betraying the least
token of recognition." And good, too, is the way in which, as Dr. Fathom
goes rapidly down the social hill, he makes excuses for his declining
splendour. His chariot was overturned "with a hideous crash" at such
danger to himself, "that he did not believe he should ever hazard himself
again in any sort of wheel carriage." He turned off his men for maids,
because "men servants are generally impudent, lazy, debauched, or
dishonest." To avoid the din of the street, he shifted his lodgings into
a quiet, obscure court. And so forth and so on, in the true Smollett
vein.
But, after all, such of the old sparks are struck only occasionally.
Apart from its plot, which not a few nineteenth-century writers of
detective-stories might have improved, The Adventures of Ferdinand Count
Fathom is less interesting for itself than any other piece of fiction
from Smollett's pen. For a student of Smollett, however, it is highly
interesting as showing the author's romantic, melodramatic tendencies,
and the growth of his constructive technique.
G. H. MAYNADIER
THE ADVENTURES OF FERDINAND COUNT FATHOM
TO DOCTOR ------
You and I, my good friend, have often deliberated on the difficulty of
writing such a dedication as might gratify the self-complacency of a
patron, without exposing the author to the ridicule or censure of the
public; and I think we generally agreed that the task was altogether
impracticable.--Indeed, this was one of the few subjects on which we have
always thought in the same manner. For, notwithstanding that deference
and regard which we mutually pay to each other, certain it is, we have
often differed, according to the predominancy of those different
passions, which frequently warp the opinion, and perplex the
understanding of the most judicious.
In dedication, as in poetry, there is no medium; for, if any one of the
human virtues be omitted in the enumeration of the patron's good
qualities, the whole address is construed into an affront, and the writer
has the mortification to find his praise prostituted to very little
purpose.
On the other hand, should he yield to the transports of gratitude or
affection, which is always apt to exaggerate, and produce no more than
the genuine effusions of his heart, the world will make no allowance for
the warmth of his passion, but ascribe the praise he bestows to
interested views and sordid adulation.
Sometimes too, dazzled by the tinsel of a character which he has no
opportunity to investigate, he pours forth the homage of his admiration
upon some false Maecenas, whose future conduct gives the lie to his
eulogium, and involves him in shame and confusion of face. Such was the
fate of a late ingenious author [the Author of the "Seasons"], who was so
often put to the blush for the undeserved incense he had offered in the
heat of an enthusiastic disposition, misled by popular applause, that he
had resolved to retract, in his last will, all the encomiums which he had
thus prematurely bestowed, and stigmatise the unworthy by name--a
laudable scheme of poetical justice, the execution of which was fatally
prevented by untimely death.
Whatever may have been the fate of other dedicators, I, for my own part,
sit down to write this address, without any apprehension of disgrace or
disappointment; because I know you are too well convinced of my affection
and sincerity to repine at what I shall say touching your character and
conduct. And you will do me the justice to believe, that this public
distinction is a testimony of my particular friendship and esteem.
Not that I am either insensible of your infirmities, or disposed to
conceal them from the notice of mankind. There are certain foibles which
can only be cured by shame and mortification; and whether or not yours be
of that species, I shall have the comfort to think my best endeavours
were used for your reformation.
Know then, I can despise your pride, while I honour your integrity, and
applaud your taste, while I am shocked at your ostentation.--I have known
you trifling, superficial, and obstinate in dispute; meanly jealous and
awkwardly reserved; rash and haughty in your resentments; and coarse and
lowly in your connexions. I have blushed at the weakness of your
conversation, and trembled at the errors of your conduct--yet, as I own
you possess certain good qualities, which overbalance these defects, and
distinguish you on this occasion as a person for whom I have the most
perfect attachment and esteem, you have no cause to complain of the
indelicacy with which your faults are reprehended. And as they are
chiefly the excesses of a sanguine disposition and looseness of thought,
impatient of caution or control, you may, thus stimulated, watch over
your own intemperance and infirmity with redoubled vigilance and
consideration, and for the future profit by the severity of my reproof.
These, however, are not the only motives that induce me to trouble you
with this public application. I must not only perform my duty to my
friends, but also discharge the debt I owe to my own interest. We live
in a censorious age; and an author cannot take too much precaution to
anticipate the prejudice, misapprehension, and temerity of malice,
ignorance, and presumption.
I therefore think it incumbent upon me to give some previous intimation
of the plan which I have executed in the subsequent performance, that I
may not be condemned upon partial evidence; and to whom can I with more
propriety appeal in my explanation than to you, who are so well
acquainted with all the sentiments and emotions of my breast?
A novel is a large diffused picture, comprehending the characters of
life, disposed in different groups, and exhibited in various attitudes,
for the purposes of an uniform plan, and general occurrence, to which
every individual figure is subservient. But this plan cannot be executed
with propriety, probability, or success, without a principal personage to
attract the attention, unite the incidents, unwind the clue of the
labyrinth, and at last close the scene, by virtue of his own importance.
Almost all the heroes of this kind, who have hitherto succeeded on the
English stage, are characters of transcendent worth, conducted through
the vicissitudes of fortune, to that goal of happiness, which ever ought
to be the repose of extraordinary desert.--Yet the same principle by
which we rejoice at the remuneration of merit, will teach us to relish
the disgrace and discomfiture of vice, which is always an example of
extensive use and influence, because it leaves a deep impression of
terror upon the minds of those who were not confirmed in the pursuit of
morality and virtue, and, while the balance wavers, enables the right
scale to preponderate.
In the drama, which is a more limited field of invention, the chief
personage is often the object of our detestation and abhorrence; and we
are as well pleased to see the wicked schemes of a Richard blasted, and
the perfidy of a Maskwell exposed, as to behold a Bevil happy, and an
Edward victorious.
The impulses of fear, which is the most violent and interesting of all
the passions, remain longer than any other upon the memory; and for one
that is allured to virtue, by the contemplation of that peace and
happiness which it bestows, a hundred are deterred from the practice of
vice, by that infamy and punishment to which it is liable, from the laws
and regulations of mankind.
Let me not, therefore, be condemned for having chosen my principal
character from the purlieus of treachery and fraud, when I declare my
purpose is to set him up as a beacon for the benefit of the unexperienced
and unwary, who, from the perusal of these memoirs, may learn to avoid
the manifold snares with which they are continually surrounded in the
paths of life; while those who hesitate on the brink of iniquity may be
terrified from plunging into that irremediable gulf, by surveying the
deplorable fate of Ferdinand Count Fathom.
That the mind might not be fatigued, nor the imagination disgusted, by a
succession of vicious objects, I have endeavoured to refresh the
attention with occasional incidents of a different nature; and raised up
a virtuous character, in opposition to the adventurer, with a view to
amuse the fancy, engage the affection, and form a striking contrast which
might heighten the expression, and give a relief to the moral of the
whole.
If I have not succeeded in my endeavours to unfold the mysteries of
fraud, to instruct the ignorant, and entertain the vacant; if I have
failed in my attempts to subject folly to ridicule, and vice to
indignation; to rouse the spirit of mirth, wake the soul of compassion,
and touch the secret springs that move the heart; I have, at least,
adorned virtue with honour and applause, branded iniquity with reproach
and shame, and carefully avoided every hint or expression which could
give umbrage to the most delicate reader--circumstances which (whatever
may be my fate with the public) will with you always operate
in favour of,
Dear sir, your very affectionate friend and servant,
THE AUTHOR.
CHAPTER ONE
SOME SAGE OBSERVATIONS THAT NATURALLY INTRODUCE OUR IMPORTANT HISTORY.
Cardinal de Retz very judiciously observes, that all historians must of
necessity be subject to mistakes, in explaining the motives of those
actions they record, unless they derive their intelligence from the
candid confession of the person whose character they represent; and that,
of consequence, every man of importance ought to write his own memoirs,
provided he has honesty enough to tell the truth, without suppressing any
circumstance that may tend to the information of the reader. This,
however, is a requisite that, I am afraid, would be very rarely found
among the number of those who exhibit their own portraits to the public.
Indeed, I will venture to say, that, how upright soever a man's
intentions may be, he will, in the performance of such a task, be
sometimes misled by his own phantasy, and represent objects, as they
appeared to him, through the mists of prejudice and passion.
An unconcerned reader, when he peruses the history of two competitors,
who lived two thousand years ago, or who perhaps never had existence,
except in the imagination of the author, cannot help interesting himself
in the dispute, and espousing one side of the contest, with all the zeal
of a warm adherent. What wonder, then, that we should be heated in our
own concerns, review our actions with the same self-approbation that they
had formerly acquired, and recommend them to the world with all the
enthusiasm of paternal affection?
Supposing this to be the case, it was lucky for the cause of historical
truth, that so many pens have been drawn by writers, who could not be
suspected of such partiality; and that many great personages, among the
ancients as well as moderns, either would not or could not entertain the
public with their own memoirs. From this want of inclination or capacity
to write, in our hero himself, the undertaking is now left to me, of
transmitting to posterity the remarkable adventures of FERDINAND COUNT
FATHOM; and by the time the reader shall have glanced over the subsequent
sheets, I doubt not but he will bless God that the adventurer was not his
own historian.
This mirror of modern chivalry was none of those who owe their dignity to
the circumstances of their birth, and are consecrated from the cradle for
the purposes of greatness, merely because they are the accidental
children of wealth. He was heir to no visible patrimony, unless we
reckon a robust constitution, a tolerable appearance, and an uncommon
capacity, as the advantages of inheritance. If the comparison obtains in
this point of consideration, he was as much as any man indebted to his
parent; and pity it was, that, in the sequel of his fortune, he never had
an opportunity of manifesting his filial gratitude and regard. From this
agreeable act of duty to his sire, and all those tendernesses that are
reciprocally enjoyed betwixt the father and the son, he was unhappily
excluded by a small circumstance; at which, however, he was never heard
to repine. In short, had he been brought forth in the fabulous ages of
the world, the nature of his origin might have turned to his account; he
might, like other heroes of antiquity, have laid claim to divine
extraction, without running the risk of being claimed by an earthly
father. Not that his parents had any reason to disown or renounce their
offspring, or that there was anything preternatural in the circumstances
of his generation and birth; on the contrary, he was, from the beginning,
a child of promising parts, and in due course of nature ushered into the
world amidst a whole cloud of witnesses. But, that he was acknowledged
by no mortal sire, solely proceeded from the uncertainty of his mother,
whose affections were so dissipated among a number of admirers, that she
could never pitch upon the person from whose loins our hero sprung.
Over and above this important doubt under which he was begotten, other
particularities attended his birth, and seemed to mark him out as
something uncommon among the sons of men. He was brought forth in a
waggon, and might be said to be literally a native of two different
countries; for, though he first saw the light in Holland, he was not born
till after the carriage arrived in Flanders; so that, all these
extraordinary circumstances considered, the task of determining to what
government he naturally owed allegiance, would be at least as difficult
as that of ascertaining the so much contested birthplace of Homer.
Certain it is, the Count's mother was an Englishwoman, who, after having
been five times a widow in one campaign, was, in the last year of the
renowned Marlborough's command, numbered among the baggage of the allied
army, which she still accompanied, through pure benevolence of spirit,
supplying the ranks with the refreshing streams of choice Geneva, and
accommodating individuals with clean linen, as the emergency of their
occasions required. Nor was her philanthropy altogether confined to such
ministration; she abounded with "the milk of human kindness," which
flowed plentifully among her fellow-creatures; and to every son of Mars
who cultivated her favour, she liberally dispensed her smiles, in order
to sweeten the toils and dangers of the field.
And here it will not be amiss to anticipate the remarks of the reader,
who, in the chastity and excellency of his conception, may possibly
exclaim, "Good Heaven! will these authors never reform their
imaginations, and lift their ideas from the obscene objects of low life?
Must the public be again disgusted with the grovelling adventures of a
waggon? Will no writer of genius draw his pen in the vindication of
taste, and entertain us with the agreeable characters, the dignified
conversation, the poignant repartee, in short, the genteel comedy of the
polite world?"
Have a little patience, gentle, delicate, sublime critic; you, I doubt
not, are one of those consummate connoisseurs, who, in their
purifications, let humour evaporate, while they endeavour to preserve
decorum, and polish wit, until the edge of it is quite worn off. Or,
perhaps, of that class, who, in the sapience of taste, are disgusted with
those very flavours in the productions of their own country which have
yielded infinite delectation to their faculties, when imported from
another clime; and d--n an author in despite of all precedent and
prescription;--who extol the writings of Petronius Arbiter, read with
rapture the amorous sallies of Ovid's pen, and chuckle over the story of
Lucian's ass; yet, if a modern author presumes to relate the progress of
a simple intrigue, are shocked at the indecency and immorality of the
scene;--who delight in following Guzman d'Alfarache, through all the
mazes of squalid beggary; who with pleasure accompany Don Quixote and his
squire, in the lowest paths of fortune; who are diverted with the
adventures of Scarron's ragged troop of strollers, and highly entertained
with the servile situations of Gil Blas; yet, when a character in humble
life occasionally occurs in a performance of our own growth, exclaim,
with an air of disgust, "Was ever anything so mean! sure, this writer
must have been very conversant with the lowest scenes of life";--who,
when Swift or Pope represents a coxcomb in the act of swearing, scruple
not to laugh at the ridiculous execrations; but, in a less reputed
author, condemn the use of such profane expletives;--who eagerly explore
the jakes of Rabelais, for amusement, and even extract humour from the
dean's description of a lady's dressing-room; yet in a production of
these days, unstamped with such venerable names, will stop their noses,
with all the signs of loathing and abhorrence, at a bare mention of the
china chamber-pot;--who applauded Catullus, Juvenal, Persius, and Lucan,
for their spirit in lashing the greatest names of antiquity; yet, when a
British satirist, of this generation, has courage enough to call in
question the talents of a pseudo-patron in power, accuse him of
insolence, rancour, and scurrility.
If such you be, courteous reader, I say again, have a little patience;
for your entertainment we are about to write. Our hero shall, with all
convenient despatch, be gradually sublimed into those splendid connexions
of which you are enamoured; and God forbid, that, in the meantime, the
nature of his extraction should turn to his prejudice in a land of
freedom like this, where individuals are every day ennobled in
consequence of their own qualifications, without the least retrospective
regard to the rank or merit of their ancestors. Yes, refined reader, we
are hastening to that goal of perfection, where satire dares not show her
face; where nature is castigated, almost even to still life; where humour
turns changeling, and slavers in an insipid grin; where wit is
volatilised into a mere vapour; where decency, divested of all substance,
hovers about like a fantastic shadow; where the salt of genius, escaping,
leaves nothing but pure and simple phlegm; and the inoffensive pen for
ever drops the mild manna of soul-sweetening praise.
CHAPTER TWO
A SUPERFICIAL VIEW OF OUR HERO'S INFANCY.
Having thus bespoken the indulgence of our guests, let us now produce the
particulars of our entertainment, and speedily conduct our adventurer
through the stage of infancy, which seldom teems with interesting
incidents.
As the occupations of his mother would not conveniently permit her to
suckle this her firstborn at her own breast, and those happy ages were
now no more, in which the charge of nursing a child might be left to the
next goat or she-wolf, she resolved to improve upon the ordinances of
nature, and foster him with a juice much more energetic than the milk of
goat, wolf, or woman; this was no other than that delicious nectar,
which, as we have already hinted, she so cordially distributed from a
small cask that hung before her, depending from her shoulders by a
leathern zone. Thus determined, ere he was yet twelve days old, she
enclosed him in a canvas knapsack, which being adjusted to her neck, fell
down upon her back, and balanced the cargo that rested on her bosom.
There are not wanting those who affirm, that, while her double charge was
carried about in this situation, her keg was furnished with a long and
slender flexible tube, which, when the child began to be clamorous, she
conveyed into his mouth, and straight he stilled himself with sucking;
but this we consider as an extravagant assertion of those who mix the
marvellous in all their narrations, because we cannot conceive how the
tender organs of an infant could digest such a fiery beverage, which
never fails to discompose the constitutions of the most hardy and robust.
We therefore conclude that the use of this potation was more restrained,
and that it was with simple element diluted into a composition adapted to
his taste and years. Be this as it will, he certainly was indulged in
the use of it to such a degree as would have effectually obstructed his
future fortune, had not he been happily cloyed with the repetition of the
same fare, for which he conceived the utmost detestation and abhorrence,
rejecting it with loathing and disgust, like those choice spirits, who,
having been crammed with religion in their childhood, renounce it in
their youth, among other absurd prejudices of education.
While he was thus dangled in a state of suspension, a German trooper was
transiently smit with the charms of his mother, who listened to his
honourable addresses, and once more received the silken bonds of
matrimony; the ceremony having been performed as usual at the drum-head.
The lady had no sooner taken possession of her new name, than she
bestowed it upon her son, who was thenceforward distinguished by the
appellation of Ferdinand de Fadom; nor was the husband offended at this
presumption in his wife, which he not only considered as a proof of her
affection and esteem, but also as a compliment, by which he might in time
acquire the credit of being the real father of such a hopeful child.
Notwithstanding this new engagement with a foreigner, our hero's mother
still exercised the virtues of her calling among the English troops, so
much was she biassed by that laudable partiality, which, as Horace
observes, the natale solum generally inspires. Indeed this inclination
was enforced by another reason, that did not fail to influence her
conduct in this particular; all her knowledge of the High Dutch language
consisted in some words of traffic absolutely necessary for the practice
of hex vocation, together with sundry oaths and terms of reproach, that
kept her customers in awe; so that, except among her own countrymen, she
could not indulge that propensity to conversation, for which she had been
remarkable from her earliest years. Nor did this instance of her
affection fail of turning to her account in the sequel. She was promoted
to the office of cook to a regimental mess of officers; and, before the
peace of Utrecht, was actually in possession of a suttling-tent, pitched
for the accommodation of the gentlemen in the army.
Meanwhile, Ferdinand improved apace in the accomplishments of infancy;
his beauty was conspicuous, and his vigour so uncommon, that he was
with justice likened unto Hercules in the cradle. The friends of his
father-in-law dandled him on their knees, while he played with their
whiskers, and, before he was thirteen months old, taught him to suck
brandy impregnated with gunpowder, through the touch-hole of a pistol.
At the same time, he was caressed by divers serjeants of the British
army, who severally and in secret contemplated his qualifications with a
father's pride, excited by the artful declaration with which the mother
had flattered each apart.
Soon as the war was (for her unhappily) concluded, she, as in duty bound,
followed her husband into Bohemia; and his regiment being sent into
garrison at Prague, she opened a cabaret in that city, which was
frequented by a good many guests of the Scotch and Irish nations, who
were devoted to the exercise of arms in the service of the Emperor. It
was by this communication that the English tongue became vernacular to
young Ferdinand, who, without such opportunity, would have been a
stranger to the language of his forefathers, in spite of all his mother's
loquacity and elocution; though it must be owned, for the credit of her
maternal care, that she let slip no occasion of making it familiar to his
ear and conception; for, even at those intervals in which she could find
no person to carry on the altercation, she used to hold forth in earnest
soliloquies upon the subject of her own situation, giving vent to many
opprobrious invectives against her husband's country, between which and
Old England she drew many odious comparisons; and prayed, without
ceasing, that Europe might speedily be involved in a general war, so as
that she might have some chance of re-enjoying the pleasures and
emoluments of a Flanders campaign.
CHAPTER THREE
HE IS INITIATED IN A MILITARY LIFE, AND HAS THE GOOD FORTUNE TO ACQUIRE A
GENEROUS PATRON.
While she wearied Heaven with these petitions, the flame of war broke out
betwixt the houses of Ottoman and Austria, and the Emperor sent forth an
army into Hungary, under the auspices of the renowned Prince Eugene. On
account of this expedition, the mother of our hero gave up housekeeping,
and cheerfully followed her customers and husband into the field; having
first provided herself with store of those commodities in which she had
formerly merchandised. Although the hope of profit might in some measure
affect her determination, one of the chief motives for her visiting the
frontiers of Turkey, was the desire of initiating her son in the
rudiments of his education, which she now thought high time to inculcate,
he being, at this period, in the sixth year of his age; he was
accordingly conducted to the camp, which she considered as the most
consummate school of life, and proposed for the scene of his instruction;
and in this academy he had not continued many weeks, when he was an
eye-witness of that famous victory, which, with sixty thousand men, the
Imperial general obtained over an army of one hundred and fifty thousand
Turks.
His father-in-law was engaged, and his mother would not be idle on this
occasion. She was a perfect mistress of all the camp qualifications, and
thought it a duty incumbent on her to contribute all that lay in her
power towards distressing the enemy. With these sentiments she hovered
about the skirts of the army, and the troops were no sooner employed in
the pursuit, than she began to traverse the field of battle with a
poignard and a bag, in order to consult her own interest, annoy the foe,
and exercise her humanity at the same time. In short, she had, with
amazing prowess, delivered some fifty or threescore disabled Mussulmen of
the pain under which they groaned, and made a comfortable booty of the
spoils of the slain, when her eyes were attracted by the rich attire of
an Imperial officer, who lay bleeding on the plain, to all appearance in
the agonies of death.
She could not in her heart refuse that favour to a friend and Christian
she had so compassionately bestowed upon so many enemies and infidels,
and therefore drew near with the sovereign remedy, which she had already
administered with such success. As she approached this deplorable object
of pity, her ears were surprised with an ejaculation in the English
tongue, which he fervently pronounced, though with a weak and languid
voice, recommending his soul to God, and his family to the protection of
Heaven. Our Amazon's purpose was staggered by this providential
incident; the sound of her native language, so unexpectedly heard, and so
pathetically delivered, had a surprising effect upon her imagination; and
the faculty of reflection did not forsake her in such emergency. Though
she could not recollect the features of this unhappy officer, she
concluded, from his appearance, that he was some person of distinction in
the service, and foresaw greater advantage to herself in attempting to
preserve his life, than she could possibly reap from the execution of her
first resolve. "If," said she to herself, "I can find means of conveying
him to his tent alive, he cannot but in conscience acknowledge my
humanity with some considerable recompense; and, should he chance to
survive his wounds, I have everything to expect from his gratitude and
power."
Fraught with these prudential suggestions, she drew near the unfortunate
stranger, and, in a softened accent of pity and condolence, questioned
him concerning his name, condition, and the nature of his mischance, at
the same time making a gentle tender of her service. Agreeably surprised
to hear himself accosted in such a manner, by a person whose equipage
seemed to promise far other designs, he thanked her in the most grateful
terms for her humanity, with the appellation of kind countrywoman; gave
her to understand that he was colonel of a regiment of horse; that he had
fallen in consequence of a shot he received in his breast at the
beginning of the action; and, finally, entreated her to procure some
carriage on which he might be removed to his tent. Perceiving him faint
and exhausted with loss of blood, she raised up his head, and treated him
with that cordial which was her constant companion. At that instant,
espying a small body of hussars returning to the camp with the plunder
they had taken, she invoked their assistance, and they forthwith carried
the officer to his own quarters, where his wound was dressed, and his
preserver carefully tended him until his recovery was completed.
In return for these good offices, this gentleman, who was originally of
Scotland, rewarded her for the present with great liberality, assured her
of his influence in promoting her husband, and took upon himself the
charge of young Ferdinand's education; the boy was immediately taken into
his protection, and entered as a trooper in his own regiment; but his
good intentions towards his father-in-law were frustrated by the death of
the German, who, in a few days after this disposition, was shot in the
trenches before Temiswaer.
This event, over and above the conjugal affliction with which it invaded
the lady's quiet, would have involved her in infinite difficulty and
distress, with regard to her temporal concerns, by leaving her
unprotected in the midst of strangers, had not she been thus
providentially supplied with an effectual patron in the colonel, who was
known by the appellation of Count Melvil. He no sooner saw her, by the
death of her husband, detached from all personal connexions with a
military life, than he proposed that she should quit her occupation in
the camp, and retire to his habitation in the city of Presburg, where she
would be entertained in ease and plenty during the remaining part of her
natural life. With all due acknowledgments of his generosity, she begged
to be excused from embracing his proposal, alleging she was so much
accustomed to her present way of life, and so much devoted to the service
of the soldiery, that she should never be happy in retirement, while the
troops of any prince in Christendom kept the field.
The Count, finding her determined to prosecute her scheme, repeated his
promise of befriending her upon all occasions; and in the meantime
admitted Ferdinand into the number of his domestics, resolving that he
should be brought up in attendance upon his own son, who was a boy of the
same age. He kept him, however, in his tent, until he should have an
opportunity of revisiting his family in person; and, before that occasion
offered, two whole years elapsed, during which the illustrious Prince
Eugene gained the celebrated battle of Belgrade, and afterwards made
himself master of that important frontier.
CHAPTER FOUR
HIS MOTHER'S PROWESS AND DEATH; TOGETHER WITH SOME INSTANCES OF HIS OWN
SAGACITY.
It would have been impossible for the mother of our adventurer, such as
she hath been described, to sit quietly in her tent, while such an heroic
scene was acting. She was no sooner apprised of the general's intention
to attack the enemy, than she, as usual, packed up her moveables in a
waggon, which she committed to the care of a peasant in the
neighbourhood, and put herself in motion with the troops; big with the
expectation of re-acting that part in which she had formerly acquitted
herself so much to her advantage.--Nay, she by this time looked upon her
own presence as a certain omen of success to the cause which she
espoused; and, in their march to battle, actually encouraged the ranks
with repeated declarations, importing, that she had been eye-witness of
ten decisive engagements, in all of which her friends had been
victorious, and imputing such uncommon good fortune to some supernatural
quality inherent in her person.
Whether or not this confidence contributed to the fortune of the day, by
inspiring the soldiers to an uncommon pitch of courage and resolution, I
shall not pretend to determine. But, certain it is, the victory began
from that quarter in which she had posted herself; and no corps in the
army behaved with such intrepidity as that which was manifested by those
who were favoured with her admonitions and example; for she not only
exposed her person to the enemy's fire, with the indifference and
deliberation of a veteran, but she is said to have achieved a very
conspicuous exploit by the prowess of her single arm. The extremity of
the line to which she had attached herself, being assaulted in flank by a
body of the spahis, wheeled about, in order to sustain the charge, and
received them with such a seasonable fire, as brought a great number of
turbans to the ground; among those who fell, was one of the chiefs or
agas, who had advanced before the rest, with a view to signalise his
valour.
Our English Penthesilea no sooner saw this Turkish leader drop, than,
struck with the magnificence of his own and horse's trappings, she sprung
forward to seize them as her prize, and found the aga not dead, though in
a good measure disabled by his misfortune, which was entirely owing to
the weight of his horse, that, having been killed by a musket-ball, lay
upon his leg, so that he could not disengage himself. Nevertheless,
perceiving the virago approach with fell intent, he brandished his
symitar, and tried to intimidate his assailant with a most horrible
exclamation; but it was not the dismal yell of a dismounted cavalier,
though enforced with a hideous ferocity of countenance, and the menacing
gestures with which he waited her approach, that could intimidate such an
undaunted she-campaigner; she saw him writhing in the agonies of a
situation from which he could not move; and, running towards him with the
nimbleness and intrepidity of a Camilla, described a semicircle in the
progress of her assault, and attacking him on one side, plunged her
well-tried dagger in his throat. The shades of death encompassed him,
his life-blood issued at the wound, he fell prone upon the earth, he bit
the dust, and having thrice invoked the name of Allah! straight expired.
While his destiny was thus fulfilled, his followers began to reel; they
seemed dismayed at the fate of their chief, beheld their companions drop
like the leaves in autumn, and suddenly halted in the midst of their
career. The Imperialists, observing the confusion of the enemy,
redoubled their fire; and, raising a dreadful shout, advanced in order to
improve the advantage they had gained. The spahis durst not wait the
shock of such an encounter; they wheeled to the right-about, and clapping
spurs to their horses, fled in the utmost disorder. This was actually
the circumstance that turned the scale of battle. The Austrians pursued
their good fortune with uncommon impetuosity, and in a few minutes left
the field clear for the mother of our hero, who was such an adept in the
art of stripping, that in the twinkling of an eye the bodies of the aga
and his Arabian lay naked to the skin. It would have been happy for her,
had she been contented with these first-fruits, reaped from the fortune
of the day, and retired with her spoils, which were not inconsiderable;
but, intoxicated with the glory she had won, enticed by the glittering
caparisons that lay scattered on the plain, and without doubt prompted by
the secret instinct of her fate, she resolved to seize opportunity by the
forelock, and once for all indemnify herself for the many fatigues,
hazards, and sorrows she had undergone.
Thus determined, she reconnoitred the field, and practised her address so
successfully, that in less than half an hour she was loaded with ermine
and embroidery, and disposed to retreat with her burden, when her regards
were solicited by a splendid bundle, which she descried at some distance
lying on the ground. This was no other than an unhappy officer of
hussars; who, after having the good fortune to take a Turkish standard,
was desperately wounded in the thigh, and obliged to quit his horse;
finding himself in such a helpless condition, he had wrapped his
acquisition round his body, that whatever might happen, he and his glory
should not be parted; and thus shrouded, among the dying and the dead, he
had observed the progress of our heroine, who stalked about the field,
like another Atropos, finishing, wherever she came, the work of death.
He did not at all doubt, that he himself would be visited in the course
of her peregrinations, and therefore provided for her reception, with a
pistol ready cocked in his hand, while he lay perdue beneath his covert,
in all appearance bereft of life. He was not deceived in his prognostic;
she no sooner eyed the golden crescent than, inflamed with curiosity or
cupidity, she directed thitherward her steps, and discerning the carcase
of a man, from which, she thought, there would be a necessity for
disengaging it, she lifted up her weapon, in order to make sure of her
purchase; and in the very instant of discharging her blow, received a
brace of bullets in her brain.
Thus ended the mortal pilgrimage of this modern Amazon; who, in point of
courage, was not inferior to Semiramis, Tomyris, Zenobia, Thalestris, or
any boasted heroine of ancient times. It cannot be supposed that this
catastrophe made a very deep impression upon the mind of young Ferdinand,
who had just then attained the ninth year of his age, and been for a
considerable time weaned from her maternal caresses; especially as he
felt no wants nor grievances in the family of the Count, who favoured him
with a particular share of indulgence, because he perceived in him a
spirit of docility, insinuation, and sagacity, far above his years. He
did not, however, fail to lament the untimely fate of his mother, with
such filial expressions of sorrow, as still more intimately recommended
him to his patron; who, being himself a man of extraordinary benevolence,
looked upon the boy as a prodigy of natural affection, and foresaw in his
future services a fund of gratitude and attachment, that could not fail
to render him a valuable acquisition to his family.
In his own country, he had often seen connexions of that sort, which
having been planted in the infancy of the adherent, had grown up to a
surprising pitch of fidelity and friendship, that no temptation could
bias, and no danger dissolve. He therefore rejoiced in the hope of
seeing his own son accommodated with such a faithful attendant, in the
person of young Fathom, on whom he resolved to bestow the same education
he had planned for the other, though conveyed in such a manner as should
be suitable to the sphere in which he was ordained to move. In
consequence of these determinations, our young adventurer led a very easy
life, in quality of page to the Count, in whose tent he lay upon a
pallet, close to his field-bed, and often diverted him with his childish
prattle in the English tongue, which the more seldom his master had
occasion to speak, he the more delighted to hear. In the exercise of his
function, the boy was incredibly assiduous and alert; far from neglecting
the little particulars of his duty, and embarking in the mischievous
amusements of the children belonging to the camp, he was always diligent,
sedate, agreeably officious and anticipating; and in the whole of his
behaviour seemed to express the most vigilant sense of his patron's
goodness and generosity; nay, to such a degree had these sentiments, in
all appearance, operated upon his reflection, that one morning, while he
supposed the Count asleep, he crept softly to his bedside, and gently
kissing his hand, which happened to be uncovered, pronounced, in a low
voice, a most fervent prayer in his behalf, beseeching Heaven to shower
down blessings upon him, as the widow's friend and the orphan's father.
This benediction was not lost upon the Count, who chanced to be awake,
and heard it with admiration; but what riveted Ferdinand in his good
graces, was a discovery that our youth made, while his master was upon
duty in the trenches before Belgrade.
Two foot soldiers, standing sentry near the door of the tent, were
captivated with the sight of some valuable moveables belonging to it; and
supposing, in their great wisdom, that the city of Belgrade was too well
fortified to be taken during that campaign, they came to a resolution of
withdrawing themselves from the severe service of the trenches, by
deserting to the enemy, after they should have rifled Count Melvil's tent
of the furniture by which they were so powerfully allured. The
particulars of this plan were concerted in the French language, which,
they imagined, would screen them from all risk of being detected, in case
they should be overheard, though, as there was no living creature in
sight, they had no reason to believe that any person was privy to their
conversation. Nevertheless, they were mistaken in both these
conjectures. The conference reached the ears of Fathom, who was at the
other end of the tent, and had perceived the eager looks with which they
considered some parts of the furniture. He had penetration enough to
suspect their desire, and, alarmed by that suspicion, listened
attentively to their discourse; which, from a slender knowledge in the
French tongue, he had the good fortune partly to understand.
This important piece of intelligence he communicated to the Count at his
return, and measures were immediately taken to defeat the design, and
make an example of the authors, who being permitted to load themselves
with the booty, were apprehended in their retreat, and punished with
death according to their demerits.
CHAPTER FIVE
A BRIEF DETAIL OF HIS EDUCATION.
Nothing could have more seasonably happened to confirm the good opinion
which the colonel entertained of Ferdinand's principles. His intentions
towards the boy grew every day more and more warm; and, immediately after
the peace of Passarowitz, he retired to his own house at Presburg, and
presented young Fathom to his lady, not only as the son of a person to
whom he owed his life, but also as a lad who merited his peculiar
protection and regard by his own personal virtue. The Countess, who was
an Hungarian, received him with great kindness and affability, and her
son was ravished with the prospect of enjoying such a companion. In
short, fortune seemed to have provided for him an asylum, in which he
might be safely trained up, and suitably prepared for more important
scenes of life than any of his ancestors had ever known.
He was not, in all respects, entertained on the footing of his young
master; yet he shared in all his education and amusements, as one whom
the old gentleman was fully determined to qualify for the station of an
officer in the service; and, if he did not eat with the Count, he was
every day regaled with choice bits from his table; holding, as it were, a
middle place between the rank of a relation and favourite domestic.
Although his patron maintained a tutor in the house, to superintend the
conduct of his heir, he committed the charge of his learning to the
instructions of a public school; where he imagined the boy would imbibe a
laudable spirit of emulation among his fellows, which could not fail of
turning out to the advantage of his education. Ferdinand was entered in
the same academy; and the two lads proceeded equally in the paths of
erudition; a mutual friendship and intimacy soon ensued, and,
notwithstanding the levity and caprice commonly discernible in the
behaviour of such boys, very few or rather no quarrels happened in the
course of their communication. Yet their dispositions were altogether
different, and their talents unlike. Nay, this dissimilarity was the
very bond of their union; because it prevented that jealousy and
rivalship which often interrupts the harmony of two warm contemporaries.
The young Count made extraordinary progress in the exercises of the
school, though he seemed to take very little pains in the cultivation of
his studies; and became a perfect hero in all the athletic diversions of
his fellow-scholars; but, at the same time, exhibited such a bashful
appearance and uncouth address, that his mother despaired of ever seeing
him improved into any degree of polite behaviour. On the other hand,
Fathom, who was in point of learning a mere dunce, became, even in his
childhood, remarkable among the ladies for his genteel deportment and
vivacity; they admired the proficiency he made under the directions of
his dancing-master, the air with which he performed his obeisance at his
entrance and exit; and were charmed with the agreeable assurance and
lively sallies of his conversation; while they expressed the utmost
concern and disgust at the boorish demeanour of his companion, whose
extorted bows resembled the pawings of a mule, who hung his head in
silence like a detected sheep-stealer, who sat in company under the most
awkward expressions of constraint, and whose discourse never exceeded the
simple monosyllables of negation and assent.
In vain did all the females of the family propose to him young Fathom, as
a pattern and reproach. He remained unaltered by all their efforts and
expostulations, and allowed our adventurer to enjoy the triumph of his
praise, while he himself was conscious of his own superiority in those
qualifications which seemed of more real importance than the mere
exteriors and forms of life. His present ambition was not to make a
figure at his father's table, but to eclipse his rivals at school, and to
acquire an influence and authority among these confederates.
Nevertheless, Fathom might possibly have fallen under his displeasure or
contempt, had not that pliant genius found means to retain his friendship
by seasonable compliances and submission; for the sole study, or at least
the chief aim of Ferdinand, was to make himself necessary and agreeable
to those on whom his dependence was placed. His talent was in this
particular suited to his inclination; he seemed to have inherited it from
his mother's womb; and, without all doubt, would have raised upon it a
most admirable superstructure of fortune and applause, had not it been
inseparably yoked with a most insidious principle of self-love, that grew
up with him from the cradle, and left no room in his heart for the least
particle of social virtue. This last, however, he knew so well how to
counterfeit, by means of a large share of ductility and dissimulation,
that, surely, he was calculated by nature to dupe even the most cautious,
and gratify his appetites, by levying contributions on all mankind.
So little are the common instructors of youth qualified to judge the
capacities of those who are under their tutelage and care, that Fathom,
by dint of his insinuating arts, made shift to pass upon the schoolmaster
as a lad of quick parts, in despite of a natural inaptitude to retain his
lessons, which all his industry could never overcome. In order to
remedy, or rather to cloak this defect in his understanding, he had
always recourse to the friendship of the young Count, who freely
permitted him to transcribe his exercises, until a small accident
happened, which had well-nigh put a stop to these instances of his
generosity.--The adventure, inconsiderable as it is, we shall record, as
the first overt act of Ferdinand's true character, as well as an
illustration of the opinion we have advanced touching the blind and
injudicious decisions of a right pedagogue.
Among other tasks imposed by the pedant upon the form to which our two
companions belonged, they were one evening ordered to translate a chapter
of Caesar's Commentaries. Accordingly the young Count went to work, and
performed the undertaking with great elegance and despatch. Fathom,
having spent the night in more effeminate amusements, was next morning so
much hurried for want of time, that in his transcription he neglected to
insert a few variations from the text, these being the terms on which he
was allowed to use it; so that it was verbatim a copy of the original.
As those exercises were always delivered in a heap, subscribed with the
several names of the boys to whom they belonged, the schoolmaster chanced
to peruse the version of Ferdinand, before he looked into any of the
rest, and could not help bestowing upon it particular marks of
approbation. The next that fell under his examination was that of the
young Count, when he immediately perceived the sameness, and, far from
imputing it to the true cause, upbraided him with having copied the
exercise of our adventurer, and insisted upon chastising him upon the
spot for his want of application.
Had not the young gentleman thought his honour was concerned, he would
have submitted to the punishment without murmuring; but he inherited,
from his parents, the pride of two fierce nations, and, being overwhelmed
with reproaches for that which he imagined ought to have redounded to his
glory, he could not brook the indignity, and boldly affirmed, that he
himself was the original, to whom Ferdinand was beholden for his
performance. The schoolmaster, nettled to find himself mistaken in his
judgment, resolved that the Count should have no cause to exult in the
discovery he had made, and, like a true flogger, actually whipped him for
having allowed Fathom to copy his exercise. Nay, in the hope of
vindicating his own penetration, he took an opportunity of questioning
Ferdinand in private concerning the circumstances of the translation, and
our hero, perceiving his drift, gave him such artful and ambiguous
answers, as persuaded him that the young Count had acted the part of a
plagiary, and that the other had been restrained from doing himself
justice, by the consideration of his own dependence.
This profound director did not fail, in honour of his own discernment, to
whisper about the misrepresentation, as an instance of the young Count's
insolence, and Fathom's humility and good sense. The story was
circulated among the servants, especially the maids belonging to the
family, whose favour our hero had acquired by his engaging behaviour; and
at length it reached the ears of his patron, who, incensed at his son's
presumption and inhospitality, called him to a severe account, when the
young gentleman absolutely denied the truth of the allegation, and
appealed to the evidence of Fathom himself. Our adventurer was
accordingly summoned by the father, and encouraged to declare the truth,
with an assurance of his constant protection; upon which Ferdinand very
wisely fell upon his knees, and, while the tears gushed from his eyes,
acquitted the young Count of the imputation, and expressed his
apprehension, that the report had been spread by some of his enemies, who
wanted to prejudice him in the opinion of his patron.
The old gentleman was not satisfied of his son's integrity by this
declaration; being naturally of a generous disposition, highly
prepossessed in favour of the poor orphan, and chagrined at the
unpromising appearance of his heir, he suspected that Fathom was overawed
by the fear of giving offence, and that, notwithstanding what he had
said, the case really stood as it had been represented. In this
persuasion, he earnestly exhorted his son to resist and combat with any
impulse he might feel within himself, tending to selfishness, fraud, or
imposition; to encourage every sentiment of candour and benevolence, and
to behave with moderation and affability to all his fellow-creatures. He
laid upon him strong injunctions, not without a mixture of threats, to
consider Fathom as the object of his peculiar regard; to respect him as
the son of the Count's preserver, as a Briton, a stranger, and, above
all, an helpless orphan, to whom the rights of hospitality were doubly
due.
Such admonitions were not lost upon the youth, who, under the rough husk
of his personal exhibition, possessed a large share of generous
sensibility. Without any formal professions to his father, he resolved
to govern himself according to his remonstrances; and, far from
conceiving the least spark of animosity against Fathom, he looked upon
the poor boy as the innocent cause of his disgrace, and redoubled his
kindness towards him, that his honour might never again be called
in question, upon the same subject. Nothing is more liable to
misconstruction than an act of uncommon generosity; one half of the world
mistake the motive, from want of ideas to conceive an instance of
beneficence that soars so high above the level of their own sentiments;
and the rest suspect it of something sinister or selfish, from the
suggestions of their own sordid and vicious inclinations. The young
Count subjected himself to such misinterpretation, among those who
observed the increased warmth of civility and complaisance in his
behaviour to Ferdinand. They ascribed it to his desire of still
profiting by our adventurer's superior talents, by which alone they
supposed him enabled to maintain any degree of reputation at school; or
to the fear of being convicted by him of some misdemeanour of which he
knew himself guilty. These suspicions were not effaced by the conduct of
Ferdinand, who, when examined on the subject, managed his answers in such
a manner, as confirmed their conjectures, while he pretended to refute
them, and at the same time acquired to himself credit for his
extraordinary discretion and self-denial.
If he exhibited such a proof of sagacity in the twelfth year of his age,
what might not be expected from his finesse in the maturity of his
faculties and experience? Thus secured in the good graces of the whole
family, he saw the days of his puerility glide along in the most
agreeable elapse of caresses and amusement. He never fairly plunged into
the stream of school-education, but, by floating on the surface, imbibed
a small tincture of those different sciences which his master pretended
to teach. In short, he resembled those vagrant swallows that skim along
the level of some pool or river, without venturing to wet one feather in
their wings, except in the accidental pursuit of an inconsiderable fly.
Yet, though his capacity or inclination was unsuited for studies of this
kind, he did not fail to manifest a perfect genius in the acquisition of
other more profitable arts. Over and above the accomplishments of
address, for which he hath been already celebrated, he excelled all his
fellows in his dexterity at fives and billiards; was altogether
unrivalled in his skill at draughts and backgammon; began, even at these
years, to understand the moves and schemes of chess; and made himself a
mere adept in the mystery of cards, which he learned in the course of his
assiduities and attention to the females of the house.
CHAPTER SIX
HE MEDITATES SCHEMES OF IMPORTANCE.
It was in these parties that he attracted the notice and friendship of
his patron's daughter, a girl by two years older than himself, who was
not insensible to his qualifications, and looked upon him with the most
favourable eyes of prepossession. Whether or not he at this period of
his life began to project plans for availing himself of her
susceptibility, is uncertain; but, without all doubt, he cultivated her
esteem with as obsequious and submissive attention as if he had already
formed the design, which, in his advanced age, he attempted to put in
execution.
Divers circumstances conspired to promote him in the favour of this young
lady; the greenness of his years secured him from any appearance of
fallacious aim; so that he was indulged in frequent opportunities of
conversing with his young mistress, whose parents encouraged this
communication, by which they hoped she would improve in speaking the
language of her father. Such connexions naturally produce intimacy and
friendship. Fathom's person was agreeable, his talents calculated for
the meridian of those parties, and his manners so engaging, that there
would have been no just subject for wonder, had he made an impression
upon the tender unexperienced heart of Mademoiselle de Melvil, whose
beauty was not so attractive as to extinguish his hope, in raising up a
number of formidable rivals; though her expectations of fortune were such
as commonly lend additional lustre to personal merit.
All these considerations were so many steps towards the success of
Ferdinand's pretensions; and though he cannot be supposed to have
perceived them at first, he in the sequel seemed perfectly well apprised
of his advantages, and used them to the full extent of his faculties.
Observing that she delighted in music, he betook himself to the study of
that art, and, by dint of application and a tolerable ear, learned of
himself to accompany her with a German flute, while she sung and played
upon the harpsichord. The Count, seeing his inclination, and the
progress he had made, resolved that his capacity should not be lost for
want of cultivation; and accordingly provided him with a master, by whom
he was instructed in the principles of the art, and soon became a
proficient in playing upon the violin.
In the practice of these improvements and avocations, and in attendance
upon his young master, whom he took care never to disoblige or neglect,
he attained to the age of sixteen, without feeling the least abatement in
the friendship and generosity of those upon whom he depended; but, on the
contrary, receiving every day fresh marks of their bounty and regard. He
had before this time been smit with the ambition of making a conquest of
the young lady's heart, and foresaw manifold advantages to himself in
becoming son-in-law to Count Melvil, who, he never doubted, would soon be
reconciled to the match, if once it could be effectuated without his
knowledge. Although he thought he had great reason to believe that
Mademoiselle looked upon him with an eye of peculiar favour, his
disposition was happily tempered with an ingredient of caution, that
hindered him from acting with precipitation; and he had discerned in the
young lady's deportment certain indications of loftiness and pride, which
kept him in the utmost vigilance and circumspection; for he knew, that,
by a premature declaration, he should run the risk of forfeiting all the
advantages he had gained, and blasting those expectations that now
blossomed so gaily in his heart.
Restricted by these reflections, he acted at a wary distance, and
determined to proceed by the method of sap, and, summoning all his
artifice and attractions to his aid, employed them under the insidious
cover of profound respect, in order to undermine those bulwarks of
haughtiness or discretion, which otherwise might have rendered his
approaches to her impracticable. With a view to enhance the value of his
company, and sound her sentiments at the same time, he became more
reserved than usual, and seldomer engaged in her parties of music and
cards; yet, in the midst of his reserve, he never failed in those
demonstrations of reverence and regard, which he knew perfectly well how
to express, but devised such excuses for his absence, as she could not
help admitting. In consequence of this affected shyness, she more than
once gently chid him for his neglect and indifference, observing, with an
ironical air, that he was now too much of a man to be entertained with
such effeminate diversions; but her reproofs were pronounced with too
much ease and good-humour to be agreeable to our hero, who desired to see
her ruffled and chagrined at his absence, and to hear himself rebuked
with an angry affectation of disdain. This effort, therefore, he
reinforced with the most captivating carriage he could assume, in those
hours which he now so sparingly bestowed upon his mistress. He regaled
her with all the entertaining stories he could learn or invent,
particularly such as he thought would justify and recommend the levelling
power of love, that knows no distinctions of fortune. He sung nothing
but tender airs and passionate complaints, composed by desponding or
despairing swains; and, to render his performances of this kind the more
pathetic, interlarded them with some seasonable sighs, while the tears,
which he had ever at command, stood collected in either eye.
It was impossible for her to overlook such studied emotions; she in a
jocose manner taxed him with having lost his heart, rallied the excess of
his passion, and in a merry strain undertook to be an advocate for his
love. Her behaviour was still wide of his wish and expectation. He
thought she would, in consequence of her discovery, have betrayed some
interested symptom; that her face would have undergone some favourable
suffusion; that her tongue would have faltered, her breast heaved, and
her whole deportment betokened internal agitation and disorder, in which
case, he meant to profit by the happy impression, and declare himself,
before she could possibly recollect the dictates of her pride.--Baffled
however in his endeavours, by the serenity of the young lady, which he
still deemed equivocal, he had recourse to another experiment, by which
he believed he should make a discovery of her sentiments beyond all
possibility of doubt. One day, while he accompanied Mademoiselle in her
exercise of music, he pretended all of a sudden to be taken ill, and
counterfeited a swoon in her apartment. Surprised at this accident, she
screamed aloud, but far from running to his assistance, with the
transports and distraction of a lover, she ordered her maid, who was
present, to support his head, and went in person to call for more help.
He was accordingly removed to his own chamber, where, willing to be still
more certified of her inclinations, he prolonged the farce, and lay
groaning under the pretence of a severe fever.
The whole family was alarmed upon this occasion; for, as we have already
observed, he was an universal favourite. He was immediately visited by
the old Count and his lady, who expressed the utmost concern at his
distemper, ordered him to be carefully attended, and sent for a physician
without loss of time. The young gentleman would scarce stir from his
bedside, where he ministered unto him with all the demonstrations of
brotherly affection; and Miss exhorted him to keep up his spirits, with
many expressions of unreserved sympathy and regard. Nevertheless, he saw
nothing in her behaviour but what might be naturally expected from common
friendship, and a compassionate disposition, and was very much mortified
at his disappointment.
Whether the miscarriage actually affected his constitution, or the doctor
happened to be mistaken in his diagnostics, we shall not pretend to
determine; but the patient was certainly treated secundum artem, and all
his complaints in a little time realised; for the physician, like a true
graduate, had an eye to the apothecary in his prescriptions; and such was
the concern and scrupulous care with which our hero was attended, that
the orders of the faculty were performed with the utmost punctuality. He
was blooded, vomited, purged, and blistered, in the usual forms (for the
physicians of Hungary are generally as well skilled in the arts of their
occupation as any other leeches under the sun), and swallowed a whole
dispensary of bolusses, draughts, and apozems, by which means he became
fairly delirious in three days, and so untractable, that he could be no
longer managed according to rule; otherwise, in all likelihood, the world
would never have enjoyed the benefit of these adventures. In short, his
constitution, though unable to cope with two such formidable antagonists
as the doctor and the disease he had conjured up, was no sooner rid of
the one, than it easily got the better of the other; and though
Ferdinand, after all, found his grand aim unaccomplished, his malady was
productive of a consequence, which, though he had not foreseen it, he did
not fail to convert to his own use and advantage.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ENGAGES IN PARTNERSHIP WITH A FEMALE ASSOCIATE, IN ORDER TO PUT HIS
TALENTS IN ACTION.
While he displayed his qualifications in order to entrap the heart of his
young mistress, he had unwittingly enslaved the affections of her maid.
This attendant was also a favourite of the young lady, and, though her
senior by two or three good years at least, unquestionably her superior
in point of personal beauty; she moreover possessed a good stock of
cunning and discernment, and was furnished by nature with a very amorous
complexion. These circumstances being premised, the reader will not be
surprised to find her smitten by those uncommon qualifications which we
have celebrated in young Fathom. She had in good sooth long sighed in
secret, under the powerful influence of his charms, and practised upon
him all those little arts, by which a woman strives to attract the
admiration, and ensnare the heart of a man she loves; but all his
faculties were employed upon the plan which he had already projected;
that was the goal of his whole attention, to which all his measures
tended; and whether or not he perceived the impression he had made upon
Teresa, he never gave her the least reason to believe he was conscious of
his victory, until he found himself baffled in his design upon the heart
of her mistress.--She therefore persevered in her distant attempts to
allure him, with the usual coquetries of dress and address, and, in the
sweet hope of profiting by his susceptibility, made shift to suppress her
feelings, and keep her passion within bounds, until his supposed danger
alarmed her fears, and raised such a tumult within her breast, that she
could no longer conceal her love, but gave a loose to her sorrow in the
most immoderate expressions of anguish and affliction, and, while his
delirium lasted, behaved with all the agitation of a despairing
shepherdess.
Ferdinand was, or pretended to be, the last person in the family who
understood the situation of her thoughts; when he perceived her passion,
he entered into deliberation with himself, and tasked his reflection and
foresight, in order to discover how best he might convert this conquest
to his own advantage. Here, then, that we may neglect no opportunity of
doing justice to our hero, it will be proper to observe, that, howsoever
unapt his understanding might be to receive and retain the usual culture
of the schools, he was naturally a genius self-taught, in point of
sagacity and invention.--He dived into the characters of mankind, with a
penetration peculiar to himself, and, had he been admitted as a pupil in
any political academy, would have certainly become one of the ablest
statesmen in Europe.
Having revolved all the probable consequences of such a connexion, he
determined to prosecute an amour with the lady whose affection he had
subdued; because he hoped to interest her as an auxiliary in his grand
scheme upon Mademoiselle, which he did not as yet think proper to lay
aside; for he was not more ambitious in the plan, than indefatigable in
the prosecution of it. He knew it would be impossible to execute his
aims upon the Count's daughter under the eye of Teresa, whose natural
discernment would be whetted with jealousy, and who would watch his
conduct, and thwart his progress with all the vigilance and spite of a
slighted maiden. On the other hand, he did not doubt of being able to
bring her over to his interest, by the influence he had already gained,
or might afterwards acquire over her passions; in which case, she would
effectually espouse his cause, and employ her good offices with her
mistress in his behalf; besides, he was induced by another motive, which,
though secondary, did not fail in this case to have an effect upon his
determination. He looked upon Teresa with the eyes of appetite, which he
longed to gratify; for he was not at all dead to the instigations of the
flesh, though he had philosophy enough to resist them, when he thought
they interfered with his interest. Here the case was quite different.
His desire happened to be upon the side of his advantage, and therefore,
resolving to indulge it, he no sooner found himself in a condition to
manage such an adventure, than he began to make gradual advances in point
of warmth and particular complacency to the love-sick maid.
He first of all thanked her, in the most grateful terms, for the concern
she had manifested at his distemper, and the kind services he had
received from her during the course of it; he treated her upon all
occasions with unusual affability and regard, assiduously courted her
acquaintance and conversation, and contracted an intimacy that in a
little time produced a declaration of love. Although her heart was too
much intendered to hold out against all the forms of assault, far from
yielding at discretion, she stood upon honourable terms, with great
obstinacy of punctilio, and, while she owned he was master of her
inclinations, gave him to understand, with a peremptory and resolute air,
that he should never make a conquest of her virtue; observing, that, if
the passion he professed was genuine, he would not scruple to give such a
proof of it as would at once convince her of his sincerity; and that he
could have no just cause to refuse her that satisfaction, she being his
equal in point of birth and situation; for, if he was the companion and
favourite of the young Count, she was the friend and confidant of
Mademoiselle.
He acknowledged the strength of her argument, and that her condescension
was greater than his deserts, but objected against the proposal, as
infinitely prejudicial to the fortunes of them both. He represented the
state of dependence in which they mutually stood; their utter incapacity
to support one another under the consequences of a precipitate match,
clandestinely made, without the consent and concurrence of their patrons.
He displayed, with great eloquence, all those gay expectations they had
reason to entertain, from that eminent degree of favour which they had
already secured in the family; and set forth, in the most alluring
colours, those enchanting scenes of pleasure they might enjoy in each
other, without that disagreeable consciousness of a nuptial chain,
provided she would be his associate in the execution of a plan which he
had projected for their reciprocal convenience.
Having thus inflamed her love of pleasure and curiosity, he, with great
caution, hinted his design upon the young lady's fortune, and, perceiving
her listening with the most greedy attention, and perfectly ripe for the
conspiracy, he disclosed his intention at full length, assuring her, with
the most solemn protestations of love and attachment, that, could he once
make himself legal possessor of an estate which Mademoiselle inherited by
the will of a deceased aunt, his dear Teresa should reap the happy fruits
of his affluence, and wholly engross his time and attention.
Such a base declaration our hero would not have ventured to make, had he
not implicitly believed the damsel was as great a latitudinarian as
himself, in point of morals and principle; and been well assured, that,
though he should be mistaken in her way of thinking, so far as to be
threatened with a detection of his purpose, he would always have it in
his power to refute her accusation as mere calumny, by the character he
had hitherto maintained, and the circumspection of his future conduct.
He seldom or never erred in his observations on the human heart. Teresa,
instead of disapproving, relished the plan in general, with
demonstrations of singular satisfaction. She at once conceived all the
advantageous consequences of such a scheme, and perceived in it only one
flaw, which, however, she did not think incurable. This defect was no
other than a sufficient bond of union, by which they might be effectually
tied down to their mutual interest. She foresaw, that, in case Ferdinand
should obtain possession of the prize, he might, with great ease, deny
their contract, and disavow her claim of participation. She therefore
demanded security, and proposed, as a preliminary of the agreement, that
he should privately take her to wife, with a view to dispel all her
apprehensions of his inconstancy or deceit, as such a previous engagement
would be a check upon his behaviour, and keep him strictly to the letter
of their contract.
He could not help subscribing to the righteousness of this proposal,
which, nevertheless, he would have willingly waived, on the supposition
that they could not possibly be joined in the bands of wedlock with such
secrecy as the nature of the case absolutely required. This would have
been a difficulty soon removed, had the scene of the transaction been
laid in the metropolis of England, where passengers are plied in the
streets by clergymen, who prostitute their characters and consciences for
hire, in defiance of all decency and law; but in the kingdom of Hungary,
ecclesiastics are more scrupulous in the exercise of their function, and
the objection was, or supposed to be, altogether insurmountable; so that
they were fain to have recourse to an expedient, with which, after some
hesitation, our she-adventurer was satisfied. They joined hands in the
sight of Heaven, which they called to witness, and to judge the sincerity
of their vows, and engaged, in a voluntary oath, to confirm their union
by the sanction of the church, whenever a convenient opportunity for so
doing should occur.
The scruples of Teresa being thus removed, she admitted Ferdinand to the
privileges of a husband, which he enjoyed in stolen interviews, and
readily undertook to exert her whole power in promoting his suit with her
young mistress, because she now considered his interest as inseparably
connected with her own. Surely nothing could be more absurd or
preposterous than the articles of this covenant, which she insisted upon
with such inflexibility. How could she suppose that her pretended lover
would be restrained by an oath, when the very occasion of incurring it
was an intention to act in violation of all laws human and divine? and
yet such ridiculous conjuration is commonly the cement of every
conspiracy, how dark, how treacherous, how impious soever it may be: a
certain sign that there are some remains of religion left in the human
mind, even after every moral sentiment hath abandoned it; and that the
most execrable ruffian finds means to quiet the suggestions of his
conscience, by some reversionary hope of Heaven's forgiveness.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEIR FIRST ATTEMPT; WITH A DIGRESSION WHICH SOME READERS MAY THINK
IMPERTINENT.
Be this as it will, our lovers, though real voluptuaries, amidst the
first transports of their enjoyment did not neglect the great political
aim of their conjunction. Teresa's bedchamber, to which our hero
constantly repaired at midnight, was the scene of their deliberations,
and there it was determined that the damsel, in order to avoid suspicion,
should feign herself irritated at the indifference of Ferdinand, her
passion for whom was by this time no secret in the family; and that, with
a view to countenance this affectation, he should upon all occasions
treat her with an air of loftiness and disdain.
So screened from all imputation of fraud, she was furnished by him with
artful instructions how to sound the inclinations of her young mistress,
how to recommend his person and qualifications by the sure methods of
contradiction, comparisons, revilings, and reproach; how to watch the
paroxysms of her disposition, inflame her passions, and improve, for his
advantage, those moments of frailty from which no woman is exempted. In
short, this consummate politician taught his agent to poison the young
lady's mind with insidious conversation, tending to inspire her with the
love of guilty pleasure, to debauch her sentiments, and confound her
ideas of dignity and virtue. After all, the task is not difficult to
lead the unpractised heart astray, by dint of those opportunities her
seducer possessed. The seeds of insinuation seasonably sown upon the
warm luxuriant soil of youth, could hardly fail of shooting up into such
intemperate desires as he wanted to produce, especially when cultured and
cherished in her unguarded hours, by that stimulating discourse which
familiarity admits, and the looser passions, ingrafted in every breast,
are apt to relish and excuse.
Fathom had previously reconnoitred the ground, and discovered some marks
of inflammability in Mademoiselle's constitution; her beauty was not such
as to engage her in those gaieties of amusement which could flatter her
vanity and dissipate her ideas; and she was of an age when the little
loves and young desires take possession of the fancy; he therefore
concluded, that she had the more leisure to indulge these enticing images
of pleasure that youth never fails to create, particularly in those who,
like her, were addicted to solitude and study.
Teresa, full fraught with the wily injunctions of her confederate, took
the field, and opened the campaign with such remarkable sourness in her
aspect when Ferdinand appeared, that her young lady could not help taking
notice of her affected chagrin, and asked the reason of such apparent
alteration in her way of thinking. Prepared for this question, the other
replied, in a manner calculated for giving Mademoiselle to understand,
that, whatever impressions Ferdinand might have formerly made on her
heart, they were now altogether effaced by the pride and insolence with
which he had received her advances; and that her breast now glowed with
all the revenge of a slighted lover.
To evince the sincerity of this declaration, she bitterly inveighed
against him, and even affected to depreciate those talents, in which she
knew his chief merit to consist; hoping, by these means, to interest
Mademoiselle's candour in his defence. So far the train succeeded. That
young lady's love for truth was offended at the calumnies that were
vented against Ferdinand in his absence. She chid her woman for the
rancour of her remarks, and undertook to refute the articles of his
dispraise. Teresa supported her own assertions with great obstinacy, and
a dispute ensued, in which her mistress was heated into some extravagant
commendations of our adventurer.
His supposed enemy did not fail to make a report of her success, and to
magnify every advantage they had gained; believing, in good earnest, that
her lady's warmth was the effect of a real passion for the fortunate Mr.
Fathom. But he himself viewed the adventure in a different light, and
rightly imputed the violence of Mademoiselle's behaviour to the
contradiction she had sustained from her maid, or to the fire of her
natural generosity glowing in behalf of innocence traduced.
Nevertheless, he was perfectly well pleased with the nature of the
contest; because, in the course of such debates, he foresaw that he
should become habitually her hero, and that, in time, she would actually
believe those exaggerations of his merit, which she herself had feigned,
for the honour of her own arguments.
This presage, founded upon that principle of self-respect, without which
no individual exists, may certainly be justified by manifold occurrences
in life. We ourselves have known a very pregnant example, which we shall
relate, for the emolument of the reader. A certain needy author having
found means to present a manuscript to one of those sons of fortune who
are dignified with the appellation of patrons, instead of reaping that
applause and advantage with which he had regaled his fancy, had the
mortification to find his performance treated with infinite irreverence
and contempt, and, in high dudgeon and disappointment, appealed to the
judgment of another critic, who, he knew, had no veneration for the
first.
This common consolation, to which all baffled authors have recourse, was
productive of very happy consequences to our bard; for, though the
opinions of both judges concerning the piece were altogether the same,
the latter, either out of compassion to the appellant, or desire of
rendering his rival ridiculous in the eye of taste, undertook to repair
the misfortune, and in this manner executed the plan. In a meeting of
literati, to which both these wits belonged, he who had espoused the
poet's cause, having previously desired another member to bring his
composition on the carpet, no sooner heard it mentioned, than he began to
censure it with flagrant marks of scorn, and, with an ironical air,
looking at its first condemner, observed, that he must be furiously
infected with the rage of patronising, who could take such a deplorable
performance into his protection. The sarcasm took effect.
The person against whom it was levelled, taking umbrage at his
presumption, assumed an aspect of disdain, and replied with great
animosity, that nothing was more easily supported than the character of a
Zoilus, because no production was altogether free from blemishes; and any
man might pronounce against any piece by the lump, without interesting
his own discernment; but to perceive the beauties of a work, it was
requisite to have learning, judgment, and taste; and therefore he did not
wonder that the gentleman had overlooked a great many in the composition
which he so contemptuously decried. A rejoinder succeeded this reply,
and produced a long train of altercation, in which the gentleman, who had
formerly treated the book with such disrespect, now professed himself its
passionate admirer, and held forth in praise of it with great warmth and
elocution.
Not contented with having exhibited this instance of regard, he next
morning sent a message to the owner, importing, that he had but
superficially glanced over the manuscript, and desiring the favour of
perusing it a second time. Being indulged in this request, he
recommended it in terms of rapture to all his friends and dependants,
and, by dint of unwearied solicitation, procured a very ample
subscription for the author.
But, to resume the thread of our story. Teresa's practices were not
confined to simple defamation. Her reproaches were contrived so as to
imply some intelligence in favour of the person she reviled. In
exemplifying his pertness and arrogance, she repeated his witty repartee;
on pretence of blaming his ferocity, she recounted proofs of his spirit
and prowess; and, in explaining the source of his vanity, gave her
mistress to understand, that a certain young lady of fashion was said to
be enamoured of his person. Nor did this well-instructed understrapper
omit those other parts of her cue which the principal judged necessary
for the furtherance of his scheme. Her conversation became less guarded,
and took a freer turn than usual; she seized all opportunities of
introducing little amorous stories, the greatest part of which were
invented for the purposes of warming her passions, and lowering the price
of chastity in her esteem; for she represented all the young lady's
contemporaries in point of age and situation, as so many sensualists,
who, without scruple, indulged themselves in the stolen pleasures of
youth.
Meanwhile, Ferdinand seconded these endeavours with his whole industry
and address. He redoubled, if possible, his deference and respect,
whetting his assiduity to the keenest edge of attention; and, in short,
regulated his dress, conversation, and deportment, according to the
fancy, turn, and prevailing humour of his young mistress. He, moreover,
attempted to profit by her curiosity, which he knew to be truly feminine;
and having culled from the library of his patron certain dangerous books,
calculated to debauch the minds of young people, left them occasionally
upon the table in his apartment, after having directed Teresa to pick
them up, as if by accident, in his absence, and carry them off for the
entertainment of Mademoiselle; nay, this crafty projector found means to
furnish his associate with some mischievous preparations, which were
mingled in her chocolate, tea, or coffee, as provocations to warm her
constitution; yet all these machinations, ingenious as they were, failed,
not only in fulfilling their aim, but even in shaking the foundations of
her virtue or pride, which stood their assaults unmoved, like a strong
tower built upon a rock, impregnable to all the tempestuous blasts of
heaven.
Not but that the conspirators were more than once mistaken in the effects
of their artifices, and disposed to applaud themselves on the progress
they had made. When at any time she expressed a desire to examine those
performances which were laid before her as snares to entrap her chastity,
they attributed that, which was no other than curiosity, to a looseness
of sentiment; and when she discovered no aversion to hear those anecdotes
concerning the frailty of her neighbours, they imputed to abatement of
chastity that satisfaction which was the result of self-congratulation on
her own superior virtue.
So far did the treacherous accomplice of Fathom presume upon these
misconstructions, that she at length divested her tongue of all
restraint, and behaved in such a manner, that the young lady, confounded
and incensed at her indecency and impudence, rebuked her with great
severity, and commanded her to reform her discourse, on pain of being
dismissed with disgrace from her service.
CHAPTER NINE
THE CONFEDERATES CHANGE THEIR BATTERY, AND ACHIEVE A REMARKABLE
ADVENTURE.
Thunderstruck at this disappointment, the confederates held a council, in
order to deliberate upon the next measures that should be taken; and
Ferdinand, for the present, despairing of accomplishing his grand aim,
resolved to profit in another manner, by the conveniency of his
situation. He represented to his helpmate, that it would be prudent for
them to make hay while the sun shone, as their connexion might be sooner
or later discovered, and an end put to all those opportunities which they
now so happily enjoyed. All principles of morality had been already
excluded from their former plan; consequently he found it an easy task to
interest Teresa in any other scheme tending to their mutual advantage,
howsoever wicked and perfidious it might be. He therefore persuaded her
to be his auxiliary in defrauding Mademoiselle at play, and gave her
suitable directions for that purpose; and even tutored her how to abuse
the trust reposed in her, by embezzling the young lady's effects, without
incurring the suspicion of dishonesty.
On the supposition that every servant in the house was not able to resist
such temptation, the purse of her mistress, to which the maid had always
access, was dropped in a passage which the domestics had occasion to
frequent; and Fathom posted himself in a convenient place, in order to
observe the effect of his stratagem. Here he was not disappointed in his
conjecture. The first person who chanced to pass that way, was one of
the chambermaids, with whom Teresa had lived for some time in a state of
inveterate enmity, because the wench had failed in that homage and
respect which was paid to her by the rest of the servants.
Ferdinand had, in his heart, espoused the quarrel of his associate, and
longed for an occasion to deliver her from the malicious observance of
such an antagonist. When he, therefore, saw her approach, his heart
throbbed with joyful expectations; but, when she snatched up the purse,
and thrust it in her bosom, with all the eagerness and confusion of one
determined to appropriate the windfall to her own use, his transports
were altogether unspeakable. He traced her to her own apartment, whither
she immediately retreated with great trepidation, and then communicated
the discovery to Teresa, together with instructions how to behave in the
sequel.
In conformity with these lessons, she took the first opportunity of going
to Mademoiselle, and demanding money for some necessary expense, that the
loss might be known before the finder could have leisure to make any
fresh conveyance of the prize; and, in the meantime, Ferdinand kept a
strict eye upon the motions of the chambermaid. The young lady, having
rummaged her pockets in vain, expressed some surprise at the loss of her
purse; upon which her attendant gave indications of extreme amazement and
concern. She said, it could not possibly be lost; entreated her to
search her escritoir, while she herself ran about the room, prying into
every corner, with all the symptoms of fear and distraction. Having made
this unsuccessful inquiry, she pretended to shed a flood of tears,
bewailing her own fate, in being near the person of any lady who met with
such a misfortune, by which, she observed, her character might be called
in question. She produced her own keys, and begged upon her knees, that
her chamber and boxes might be searched without delay.
In a word, she demeaned herself so artfully upon this occasion, that her
mistress, who never entertained the least doubt of her integrity, now
looked upon her as a miracle of fidelity and attachment, and was at
infinite pains to console her for the accident which had happened;
protesting that, for her own part, the loss of the money should never
affect her with a moment's uneasiness, if she could retrieve a certain
medal which she had long kept in her purse, as a remembrance of her
deceased aunt, from whom she received it in a present.
Fathom entered accidentally into the midst of this well-acted scene, and,
perceiving the agitation of the maid, and the concern of the mistress,
desired, in a respectful manner, to know the cause of their disorder.
Before the young lady had time to make him acquainted with the
circumstances of the case, his accomplice exclaimed, in an affected
passion, "Mr. Fathom, my lady has lost her purse; and, as no persons in
the family are so much about her as you and I, you must give me leave, in
my own justification, to insist upon Mademoiselle's ordering the
apartments of us both to be searched without loss of time. Here are my
pockets and my keys, and you cannot scruple to give her the same
satisfaction; for innocence has nothing to fear."
Miss Melvil reprimanded her sharply for her unmannerly zeal; and
Ferdinand eyeing her with a look of disdain, "Madam," said he, "I approve
of your proposal; but, before I undergo such mortification, I would
advise Mademoiselle to subject the two chambermaids to such inquiry; as
they also have access to the apartments, and are, I apprehend, as likely
as you or I to behave in such a scandalous manner."
The young lady declared that she was too well satisfied of Teresa's
honesty and Ferdinand's honour, to harbour the least suspicion of either,
and that she would sooner die than disgrace them so far as to comply with
the proposal the former had made; but as she saw no reason for exempting
the inferior servants from that examination which Fathom advised, she
would forthwith put it in execution. The chambermaids being accordingly
summoned, she calmly asked if either of them had accidentally found the
purse she had dropped? and both replying in the negative, she assumed an
air of severity and determination, and demanding their keys, threatened
to examine their trunks on the instant.
The guilty Abigail, who, though an Hungarian, was not inferior, in point
of effrontery, to any one of the sisterhood in England, no sooner heard
this menace, than she affected an air of affronted innocence, thanked God
she had lived in many reputable families, and been trusted with untold
gold, but was never before suspected of theft; that the other maid might
do as she should think proper, and be mean-spirited enough to let her
things be tumbled topsy-turvy and exposed; but, for her own part, if she
should be used in that inhuman and disgraceful manner, she would not stay
another hour in the house; and in conclusion said, that Mademoiselle had
more reason to look sharp after those who enjoyed the greatest share of
her favour, than believe their malicious insinuations against innocent
people whom they were well known to hate and defame.
This declaration, implying an hint to the prejudice of Teresa, far from
diverting Miss Melvil from her purpose, served only to enhance the
character of the accused in her opinion, and to confirm her suspicion of
the accuser, of whom she again demanded her keys, protesting that, should
she prove refractory, the Count himself should take cognisance of the
affair, whereas, if she would deal ingenuously, she should have no cause
to repent of her confession. So saying, she desired our adventurer to
take the trouble of calling up some of the men-servants; upon which the
conscious criminal began to tremble, and, falling upon her knees,
acknowledged her guilt, and implored the forgiveness of her young
mistress.
Teresa, seizing this occasion to signalise her generosity, joined in the
request, and the offender was pardoned, after having restored the purse,
and promised in the sight of Heaven, that the devil should never again
entice her to the commission of such a crime. This adventure fully
answered all the purposes of our politician; it established the opinion
of his fellow-labourer's virtue, beyond the power of accident or
information to shake, and set up a false beacon to mislead the sentiments
of Mademoiselle, in case she should for the future meet with the like
misfortune.
CHAPTER TEN
THEY PROCEED TO LEVY CONTRIBUTIONS WITH GREAT SUCCESS, UNTIL OUR HERO
SETS OUT WITH THE YOUNG COUNT FOR VIENNA, WHERE HE ENTERS INTO LEAGUE
WITH ANOTHER ADVENTURER.
Under this secure cover, Teresa levied contributions upon her mistress
with great success. Some trinket was missing every day; the young lady's
patience began to fail; the faithful attendant was overwhelmed with
consternation, and, with the appearance of extreme chagrin, demanded her
dismission, affirming that these things were certainly effected by some
person in the family, with a view of murdering her precious reputation.
Miss Melvil, not without difficulty, quieted her vexation with assurances
of inviolable confidence and esteem, until a pair of diamond earrings
vanished, when Teresa could no longer keep her affliction within bounds.
Indeed, this was an event of more consequence than all the rest which had
happened, for the jewels were valued at five hundred florins.
Mademoiselle was accordingly alarmed to such a degree, that she made her
mother acquainted with her loss, and that good lady, who was an excellent
economist, did not fail to give indications of extraordinary concern.
She asked, if her daughter had reason to suspect any individual in the
family, and if she was perfectly confident of her own woman's integrity?
Upon which Mademoiselle, with many encomiums on the fidelity and
attachment of Teresa, recounted the adventure of the chambermaid, who
immediately underwent a strict inquiry, and was even committed to prison,
on the strength of her former misdemeanour. Our adventurer's mate
insisted upon undergoing the same trial with the rest of the domestics,
and, as usual, comprehended Fathom in her insinuations; while he seconded
the proposal, and privately counselled the old lady to introduce Teresa
to the magistrate of the place. By these preconcerted recriminations,
they escaped all suspicion of collusion. After a fruitless inquiry, the
prisoner was discharged from her confinement, and turned out of the
service of the Count, in whose private opinion the character of no person
suffered so much, as that of his own son, whom he suspected of having
embezzled the jewels, for the use of a certain inamorata, who, at that
time, was said to have captivated his affections.
The old gentleman felt upon this occasion all that internal anguish which
a man of honour may be supposed to suffer, on account of a son's
degeneracy; and, without divulging his sentiments, or even hinting his
suspicions to the youth himself, determined to detach him at once from
such dangerous connexions, by sending him forthwith to Vienna, on
pretence of finishing his exercises at the academy, and ushering him into
acquaintance with the great world. Though he would not be thought by the
young gentleman himself to harbour the least doubt of his morals, he did
not scruple to unbosom himself on that subject to Ferdinand, whose
sagacity and virtue he held in great veneration. This indulgent patron
expressed himself in the most pathetic terms, on the untoward disposition
of his son; he told Fathom, that he should accompany Renaldo (that was
the youth's name) not only as a companion, but a preceptor and pattern;
conjured him to assist his tutor in superintending his conduct, and to
reinforce the governor's precepts by his own example; to inculcate upon
him the most delicate punctilios of honour, and decoy him into
extravagance, rather than leave the least illiberal sentiment in his
heart.
Our crafty adventurer, with demonstrations of the utmost sensibility,
acknowledged the great goodness of the Count in reposing such confidence
in his integrity; which, as he observed, none but the worst of villains
could abuse; and fervently wished that he might no longer exist, than he
should continue to remember and resent the obligations he owed to his
kind benefactor. While preparations were making for their departure, our
hero held a council with his associate, whom he enriched with many sage
instructions touching her future operations; he at the same time
disburdened her of all or the greatest part of the spoils she had won,
and after having received divers marks of bounty from the Count and his
lady, together with a purse from his young mistress, he set out for
Vienna, in the eighteenth year of his age, with Renaldo and his governor,
who were provided with letters of recommendation to some of the Count's
friends belonging to the Imperial court.
Such a favourable introduction could not fail of being advantageous to a
youth of Ferdinand's specious accomplishments; for he was considered
as the young Count's companion, admitted into his parties, and included
in all the entertainments to which Renaldo was invited. He soon
distinguished himself by his activity and address, in the course of
those exercises that were taught at the academy of which he was pupil;
his manners were so engaging as to attract the acquaintance of his
fellow-students, and his conversation being sprightly and inoffensive,
grew into very great request; in a word, he and the young Count formed a
remarkable contrast, which, in the eye of the world, redounded to his
advantage.
They were certainly, in all respects, the reverse of each other.
Renaldo, under a total defect of exterior cultivation, possessed a most
excellent understanding, with every virtue that dignifies the human
heart; while the other, beneath a most agreeable outside, with an
inaptitude and aversion to letters, concealed an amazing fund of villany
and ingratitude. Hitherto his observation had been confined to a narrow
sphere, and his reflections, though surprisingly just and acute, had not
attained to that maturity which age and experience give; but now, his
perceptions began to be more distinct, and extended to a thousand objects
which had never before come under his cognisance.
He had formerly imagined, but was now fully persuaded, that the sons of
men preyed upon one another, and such was the end and condition of their
being. Among the principal figures of life, he observed few or no
characters that did not bear a strong analogy to the savage tyrants of
the wood. One resembled a tiger in fury and rapaciousness; a second
prowled about like an hungry wolf, seeking whom he might devour; a third
acted the part of a jackal, in beating the bush for game to his voracious
employer; and the fourth imitated the wily fox, in practising a thousand
crafty ambuscades for the destruction of the ignorant and unwary. This
last was the department of life for which he found himself best qualified
by nature and inclination; and he accordingly resolved that his talent
should not rust in his possession. He was already pretty well versed in
all the sciences of play; but he had every day occasion to see these arts
carried to such a surprising pitch of finesse and dexterity, as
discouraged him from building his schemes on that foundation.
He therefore determined to fascinate the judgment, rather than the eyes
of his fellow-creatures, by a continual exercise of that gift of
deceiving, with which he knew himself endued to an unrivalled degree; and
to acquire unbounded influence with those who might be subservient to his
interest, by an assiduous application to their prevailing passions. Not
that play was altogether left out in the projection of his economy.--
Though he engaged himself very little in the executive part of gaming, he
had not been long in Vienna, when he entered into league with a genius of
that kind, whom he distinguished among the pupils of the academy, and who
indeed had taken up his habitation in that place with a view to pillage
the provincials on their first arrival in town, before they could be
armed with proper circumspection to preserve their money, or have time to
dispose of it in any other shape.
Similar characters naturally attract each other, and people of our hero's
principles are, of all others, the most apt to distinguish their own
likeness wheresoever it occurs; because they always keep the faculty of
discerning in full exertion. It was in consequence of this mutual
alertness, that Ferdinand and the stranger, who was a native of Tyrol,
perceived themselves reflected in the dispositions of each other, and
immediately entered into an offensive and defensive alliance; our
adventurer undertaking for the articles of intelligence, countenance, and
counsel, and his associate charging himself with the risk of execution.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FATHOM MAKES VARIOUS EFFORTS IN THE WORLD OF GALLANTRY.
Thus connected, they began to hunt in couples; and Fathom, in order to
profit by the alliance with a good grace, contrived a small scheme that
succeeded to his wish. Renaldo being one night intoxicated in the course
of a merry-making with his fellow-pupils, from which Fathom had purposely
absented himself, was by the Tyrolese so artfully provoked to play, that
he could not resist the temptation, but engaged at passdice with that
fell adversary, who, in less than an hour, stripped him of a pretty round
sum. Next day, when the young gentleman recovered the use of his
reflection, he was sensibly chagrined at the folly and precipitation of
his own conduct, an account of which he communicated in confidence to our
hero, with demonstrations of infinite shame and concern.
Ferdinand, having moralised upon the subject with great sagacity, and
sharply inveighed against the Tyrolese, for the unfair advantage he had
taken, retired to his closet, and wrote the following billet, which was
immediately sent to his ally:--
"The obligations I owe, and the attachments I feel, to the Count de
Melvil, will not suffer me to be an idle spectator of the wrongs offered
to his son, in the dishonourable use, I understand, you made last night
of his unguarded hours. I therefore insist upon your making immediate
restitution of the booty which you so unjustly got; otherwise I expect
you will meet me upon the ramparts, near the bastion de la Port Neuve,
to-morrow morning at daybreak, in order to justify, with your sword, the
finesse you have practised upon the friend of FERDINAND DE FATHOM."
The gamester no sooner received this intimation, than, according to the
plan which had been preconcerted betwixt the author and him, he went to
the apartment of Renaldo, and presenting the sum of money which he had
defrauded him of the preceding night, told him, with a stern countenance,
that, though it was a just acquisition, he scorned to avail himself of
his good fortune against any person who entertained the smallest doubt of
his honour.
The young Count, surprised at this address, rejected his offer with
disdain, and desired to know the meaning of such an unexpected
declaration. Upon which, the other produced Ferdinand's billet, and
threatened, in very high terms, to meet the stripling according to his
invitation, and chastise him severely for his presumption. The
consequence of this explanation is obvious. Renaldo, imputing the
officiousness of Fathom to the zeal of his friendship, interposed in the
quarrel, which was amicably compromised, not a little to the honour of
our adventurer, who thus obtained an opportunity of displaying his
courage and integrity, without the least hazard to his person; while, at
the same time, his confederate recommended himself to the esteem of the
young Count, by his spirited behaviour on this occasion; so that Renaldo
being less shy of his company for the future, the Tyrolese had the fairer
opportunities to prosecute his designs upon the young gentleman's purse.
It would be almost superfluous to say, that these were not neglected.
The son of Count Melvil was not deficient in point of penetration; but
his whole study was at that time engrossed by the care of his education,
and he had sometimes recourse to play as an amusement by which he sought
to unbend the severity of his attention. No wonder then that he fell a
prey to an artful gamester, who had been regularly trained to the
profession, and made it the sole study of his life; especially as the
Hungarian was remarkable for a warmth of temper, which a knight of the
post always knows how to manage for his own advantage.
In the course of these operations, Fathom was a very useful
correspondent. He instructed the Tyrolese in the peculiarities of
Renaldo's disposition, and made him acquainted with the proper seasons
for profiting by his dexterity. Ferdinand, for example, who, by the
authority derived to him from the injunctions of the old Count, sometimes
took upon himself the office of an adviser, cunningly chose to counsel
the son at those conjunctures when he knew him least able to bear such
expostulation. Advice improperly administered generally acts in
diametrical opposition to the purpose for which it is supposed to be
given; at least this was the case with the young gentleman, who, inflamed
by the reproof of such a tutor, used to obey the dictates of his
resentment in an immediate repetition of that conduct which our
adventurer had taken the liberty to disapprove; and the gamester was
always at hand to minister unto his indignation. By these means he was
disencumbered of divers considerable remittances, with which his father
cheerfully supplied him, on the supposition that they were spent with
taste and liberality, under the direction of our adventurer.
But Ferdinand's views were not confined to the narrow field of this
alliance. He attempted divers enterprises in the world of gallantry,
conscious of his own personal qualifications, and never doubting that he
could insinuate himself into the good graces of some married lady about
court, or lay an opulent dowager under contribution. But he met with an
obstacle in his endeavours of this kind, which all his art was unable to
surmount. This was no other than the obscurity of his birth, and the
want of a title, without which no person in that country lays claim to
the privileges of a gentleman. Had he foreseen this inconvenience he
might have made shift to obviate the consequences, by obtaining
permission to appear in the character of the Count's kinsman; though, in
all probability, such an expedient would not have been extremely
agreeable to the old gentleman, who was very tenacious of the honour of
his family; nevertheless, his generosity might have been prevailed upon
to indulge Fathom with such a pretext, in consideration of the youth's
supposed attachment, and the obligations for which he deemed himself
indebted to his deceased mother.
True it is, Ferdinand, upon his first arrival at Vienna, had been
admitted into fashionable company, on the footing of Renaldo's companion,
because nobody suspected the defect of his pedigree; and even after a
report had been circulated to the prejudice of his extraction, by the
industry of a lacquey who attended the young Count, there were not
wanting many young people of distinction who still favoured him with
their countenance and correspondence; but he was no longer invited to
private families, in which only he could expect to profit by his address
among the ladies, and had the mortification of finding himself frequently
excepted from parties which were expressly calculated for the
entertainment of the young Count. Luckily, his spirit was so pliant as
to sustain these slights without being much dejected; instead of repining
at the loss of that respect which had been paid to him at first, he
endeavoured, with all his might, to preserve the little that still
remained, and resolved to translate into a humbler sphere that gallantry
which he had no longer opportunities of displaying in the world of rank
and fashion.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HE EFFECTS A LODGMENT IN THE HOUSE OF A RICH JEWELLER.
In consequence of this determination, he to the uttermost exerted his
good-humour among the few friends of consequence his fortune had left,
and even carried his complaisance so far as to become the humble servant
of their pleasures, while he attempted to extend his acquaintance in an
inferior path of life, where he thought his talents would shine more
conspicuous than at the assemblies of the great, and conduce more
effectually to the interest of all his designs. Nor did he find himself
disappointed in that expectation, sanguine as it was. He soon found
means to be introduced to the house of a wealthy bourgeois, where every
individual was charmed with his easy air and extraordinary
qualifications. He accommodated himself surprisingly to the humours of
the whole family; smoked tobacco, swallowed wine, and discoursed of
stones with the husband, who was a rich jeweller; sacrificed himself to
the pride and loquacity of the wife; and played upon the violin, and sung
alternately, for the amusement of his only daughter, a buxom lass, nearly
of his own age, the fruit of a former marriage.
It was not long before Ferdinand had reason to congratulate himself on
the footing he had gained in this society. He had expected to find, and
in a little time actually discovered, that mutual jealousy and rancour
which almost always subsist between a daughter and her step-dame,
inflamed with all the virulence of female emulation; for the disparity in
their ages served only to render them the more inveterate rivals in the
desire of captivating the other sex. Our adventurer having deliberated
upon the means of converting this animosity to his own advantage, saw no
method for this purpose so feasible as that of making his approaches to
the hearts of both, by ministering to each in private, food for their
reciprocal envy and malevolence; because he well knew that no road lies
so direct and open to a woman's heart as that of gratifying her passions
of vanity and resentment.
When he had an opportunity of being particular with the mother, he
expressed his concern for having unwittingly incurred the displeasure of
Mademoiselle, which, he observed, was obvious in every circumstance of
her behaviour towards him; protesting he was utterly innocent of all
intention of offending her; and that he could not account for his
disgrace any other way, than by supposing she took umbrage at the
direction of his chief regards towards her mother-in-law, which, he
owned, was altogether involuntary, being wholly influenced by that lady's
superior charms and politeness.
Such a declaration was perfectly well calculated for the meridian of a
dame like her, who with all the intoxications of unenlightened pride, and
an increased appetite for pleasure, had begun to find herself neglected,
and even to believe that her attractions were actually on the wane. She
very graciously consoled our gallant for the mishap of which he
complained, representing Wilhelmina (that was the daughter's name) as a
pert, illiterate, envious baggage, of whose disgust he ought to make no
consideration; then she recounted many instances of her own generosity to
that young lady, with the returns of malice and ingratitude she had made;
and, lastly, enumerated all the imperfections of her person, education,
and behaviour; that he might see with what justice the gypsy pretended to
vie with those who had been distinguished by the approbation and even
gallantry of the best people in Vienna.
Having thus established himself her confidant and gossip, he knew his
next step of promotion would necessarily be to the degree of her lover;
and in that belief resolved to play the same game with Mademoiselle
Wilhelmina, whose complexion was very much akin to that of her
stepmother; indeed they resembled each other too much to live upon any
terms of friendship or even decorum. Fathom, in order to enjoy a private
conversation with the young lady, never failed to repeat his visit every
afternoon, till at length he had the pleasure of finding her disengaged,
the jeweller being occupied among his workmen, and his wife gone to
assist at a lying-in.
Our adventurer and the daughter had already exchanged their vows, by the
expressive language of the eyes; he had even declared himself in some
tender ejaculations which had been softly whispered in her ear, when he
could snatch an opportunity of venting them unperceived; nay, he had upon
divers occasions gently squeezed her fair hand, on pretence of tuning her
harpsichord, and been favoured with returns of the same cordial pressure;
so that, instead of accosting her with the fearful hesitation and reserve
of a timid swain, he told her, after the exercise of the doux-yeux, that
he was come to confer with her upon a subject that nearly concerned her
peace; and asked if she had not observed of late an evident abatement of
friendship in her mother's behaviour to him, whom she had formerly
treated with such marks of favour and respect. Mademoiselle would not
pay so ill a compliment to her own discernment as to say she had not
perceived the alteration; which, on the contrary, she owned was extremely
palpable; nor was it difficult to divine the cause of such estranged
looks. This remark was accompanied with an irresistible glance; she
smiled enchanting, the colour deepened on her cheeks, her breast began to
heave, and her whole frame underwent a most agreeable confusion.
Ferdinand was not a man to let such a favourable conjuncture pass
unregarded. "Yes, charming Wilhelmina!" exclaimed the politician in an
affected rapture, "the cause is as conspicuous as your attractions. She
hath, in spite of all my circumspection, perceived that passion which it
is not in my power to conceal, and in consequence of which I now declare
myself your devoted adorer; or, conscious of your superior excellence,
her jealousy hath taken the alarm, and, though stung with conjecture
only, repines at the triumph of your perfections. How far this spirit of
malignity may be inflamed to my prejudice, I know not. Perhaps, as this
is the first, it may be also the last opportunity I shall have of avowing
the dearest sentiments of my heart to the fair object that inspired them;
in a word, I may be for ever excluded from your presence. Excuse me,
then, divine creature! from the practice of those unnecessary forms,
which I should take pride in observing, were I indulged with the ordinary
privileges of an honourable lover; and, once for all, accept the homage
of an heart overflowing with love and admiration. Yes, adorable
Wilhelmina! I am dazzled with your supernatural beauty; your other
accomplishments strike me with wonder and awe. I am enchanted by the
graces of your deportment, ravished with the charms of your conversation;
and there is a certain tenderness of benevolence in that endearing
aspect, which, I trust, will not fail to melt with sympathy at the
emotions of a faithful slave like me."
So saying, he threw himself upon his knees, and, seizing her plump hand,
pressed it to his lips with all the violence of real transport. The
nymph, whose passions nature had filled to the brim, could not hear such
a rhapsody unmoved. Being an utter stranger to addresses of this kind,
she understood every word of it in the literal acceptation; she believed
implicitly in the truth of the encomiums he had bestowed, and thought it
reasonable he should be rewarded for the justice he had done to her
qualifications, which had hitherto been almost altogether overlooked. In
short, her heart began to thaw, and her face to hang out the flag of
capitulation; which was no sooner perceived by our hero, than he renewed
his attack with redoubled fervour, pronouncing in a most vehement tone,
"Light of my eyes, and empress of my soul! behold me prostrate at your
feet, waiting with the most pious resignation, for that sentence from
your lips, on which my future happiness or misery must altogether depend.
Not with more reverence does the unhappy bashaw kiss the sultan's letter
that contains his doom, than I will submit to your fatal determination.
Speak then, angelic sweetness! for never, ah! never will I rise from this
suppliant posture, until I am encouraged to live and hope. No! if you
refuse to smile upon my passion, here shall I breathe the last sighs of a
despairing lover; here shall this faithful sword do the last office to
its unfortunate master, and shed the blood of the truest heart that ever
felt the cruel pangs of disappointed love."
The young lady, well-nigh overcome by this effusion, which brought the
tears into her eyes, "Enough, enough," cried she, interrupting him, "sure
you men were created for the ruin of our sex."--"Ruin!" re-echoed Fathom,
"talk not of ruin and Wilhelmina! let these terms be for ever parted, far
as the east and west asunder! let ever smiling peace attend her steps,
and love and joy still wanton in her train! Ruin, indeed, shall wait
upon her enemies, if such there be, and those love-lorn wretches who pine
with anguish under her disdain. Grant me, kind Heaven, a more propitious
boon; direct her genial regards to one whose love is without example, and
whose constancy is unparalleled. Bear witness to my constancy and faith,
ye verdant hills, ye fertile plains, ye shady groves, ye purling streams;
and if I prove untrue, ah! let me never find a solitary willow or a
bubbling brook, by help of which I may be enabled to put a period to my
wretched life."
Here this excellent actor began to sob most piteously, and the
tender-hearted Wilhelmina, unable longer to withstand his moving tale,
with a repetition of the interjection, ah! gently dropped into his
arms. This was the beginning of a correspondence that soon rose to a
very interesting pitch; and they forthwith concerted measures for
carrying it on without the knowledge or suspicion of her mother-in-law.
Nevertheless, the young lady, vanquished as she was, and unskilled in the
ways of men, would not all at once yield at discretion; but insisted upon
those terms, without which no woman's reputation can be secured. Our
lover, far from seeking to evade the proposal, assented to it in terms of
uncommon satisfaction, and promised to use his whole industry in finding
a priest upon whose discretion they could rely; nay, he certainly
resolved to comply with her request in good earnest, rather than forfeit
the advantages which he foresaw in their union. His good fortune,
however, exempted him from the necessity of taking such a step, which at
best must have been disagreeable; for so many difficulties occurred in
the inquiry which was set on foot, and so artfully did Fathom in the
meantime manage the influence he had already gained over her heart, that,
before her passion could obtain a legal gratification, she surrendered to
his wish, without any other assurance, than his solemn profession of
sincerity and truth, on which she reposed herself with the most implicit
confidence and faith.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE IS EXPOSED TO A MOST PERILOUS INCIDENT IN THE COURSE OF HIS INTRIGUE
WITH THE DAUGHTER.
He was rejoiced to find her so easily satisfied in such a momentous
concern, for the principal aim of the intrigue was to make her necessary
to his interested views, and even, if possible, an associate in the
fraudulent plans he had projected upon her father; consequently he
considered this relaxation in her virtue as an happy omen of his future
success. All the obstacles to their mutual enjoyment being thus removed,
our adventurer was by his mistress indulged with an assignation in her
own chamber, which, though contiguous to that of her stepmother, was
provided with a door that opened into a common staircase, to which he had
access at all hours of the night.
He did not neglect the rendezvous, but, presenting himself at the
appointed time, which was midnight, made the signal they had agreed upon,
and was immediately admitted by Wilhelmina, who waited for hire with a
lover's impatience. Fathom was not deficient in those expressions of
rapture that are current on those occasions; but, on the contrary, became
so loud in the transports of self-congratulation, that his voice reached
the ears of the vigilant stepmother, who wakening the jeweller from his
first nap, gave him to understand that some person was certainly in close
conversation with his daughter; and exhorted him to rise forthwith, and
vindicate the honour of his family.
The German, who was naturally of a phlegmatic habit, and never went to
bed without a full dose of the creature, which added to his
constitutional drowsiness, gave no ear to his wife's intimation, until
she had repeated it thrice, and used other means to rouse him from the
arms of slumber. Meanwhile Fathom and his inamorata overheard her
information, and our hero would have made his retreat immediately,
through the port by which he entered, had not his intention been
overruled by the remonstrances of the young lady, who observed that the
door was already fast bolted, and could not possibly be opened without
creating a noise that would confirm the suspicion of her parents; and
that over and above this objection he would, in sallying from that door,
run the risk of being met by her father, who in all probability would
present himself before it, in order to hinder our hero's escape. She
therefore conveyed him softly into her closet, where she assured him he
might remain with great tranquillity, in full confidence that she would
take such measures as would effectually screen him from detection.
He was fain to depend upon her assurance, and accordingly ensconced
himself behind her dressing-table; but he could not help sweating with
apprehension, and praying fervently to God for his deliverance, when he
heard the jeweller thundering at the door, and calling to his daughter
for admittance. Wilhelmina, who was already undressed, and had purposely
extinguished the light, pretended to be suddenly waked from her sleep,
and starting up, exclaimed in a tone of surprise and affright, "Jesu,
Maria! what is the matter?"--"Hussy!" replied the German in a terrible
accent, "open the door this instant; there is a man in your bedchamber,
and, by the lightning and thunder! I will wash away the stain he has cast
upon my honour with the schellum's heart's-blood."
Not at all intimidated by this boisterous threat, she admitted him
without hesitation, and, with a shrillness of voice peculiar to herself,
began to hold forth upon her own innocence and his unjust suspicion,
mingling in her harangue sundry oblique hints against her mother-in-law,
importing, that some people were so viciously inclined by their own
natures, that she did not wonder at their doubting the virtue of other
people; but that these people despised the insinuations of such people,
who ought to be more circumspect in their own conduct, lest they
themselves should suffer reprisals from those people whom they had so
maliciously slandered.
Having uttered these flowers of rhetoric, which were calculated for the
hearing of her step-dame, who stood with a light at her husband's back,
the young lady assumed an ironical air, and admonished her father to
search every corner of her apartment. She even affected to assist his
inquiry; with her own hands pulled out a parcel of small drawers, in
which her trinkets were contained; desired him to look into her
needlecase and thimble, and, seeing his examination fruitless, earnestly
intreated him to rummage her closet also, saying, with a sneer, that, in
all probability, the dishonourer would be found in that lurking-place.
The manner in which she pretended to ridicule his apprehensions made an
impression upon the jeweller, who was very well disposed to retreat into
his own nest, when his wife, with a certain slyness in her countenance,
besought him to comply with his daughter's request, and look into that
same closet, by which means Wilhelmina's virtue would obtain a complete
triumph.
Our adventurer, who overheard the conversation, was immediately seized
with a palsy of fear. He trembled at every joint, the sweat trickled
down his forehead, his teeth began to chatter, his hair to stand on end;
and he, in his heart, bitterly cursed the daughter's petulance, the
mother's malice, together with his own precipitation, by which he was
involved in an adventure so pregnant with danger and disgrace. Indeed,
the reader may easily conceive his disorder, when he heard the key
turning in the lock, and the German swearing that he would make him food
for the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air.
Fathom had come unprepared with weapons of defence, was naturally an
economist of his person, and saw himself on the brink of forfeiting not
only the promised harvest of his double intrigue, but also the reputation
of a man of honour, upon which all his future hopes depended. His agony
was therefore unspeakable, when the door flew open; and it was not till
after a considerable pause of recollection, that he perceived the candle
extinguished by the motion of the air produced from the German's sudden
irruption. This accident, which disconcerted him so much as to put a
full stop to his charge, was very favourable to our hero, who, summoning
all his presence of mind, crept up into the chimney, while the jeweller
stood at the door, waiting for his wife's return with another light; so
that, when the closet was examined, there was nothing found to justify
the report which the stepmother had made; and the father, after having
made a slight apology to Wilhelmina for his intrusion, retired with his
yoke-fellow into their own chamber.
The young lady, who little thought that her papa would have taken her at
her word, was overwhelmed with confusion and dismay, when she saw him
enter the closet; and, had her lover been discovered, would, in all
probability, have been the loudest in his reproach, and, perhaps, have
accused him of an intention to rob the house; but she was altogether
astonished when she found he had made shift to elude the inquiry of her
parents, because she could not conceive the possibility of his escaping
by the window, which was in the third storey, at a prodigious distance
from the ground; and how he should conceal himself in the apartment, was
a mystery which she could by no means unfold. Before her father and
mother retired, she lighted her lamp, on pretence of being afraid to be
in the dark, after the perturbation of spirits she had undergone; and her
room was no sooner evacuated of such troublesome visitants, than she
secured the doors, and went in quest of her lover.
Accordingly, every corner of the closet underwent a new search, and she
called upon his name with a soft voice, which she thought no other person
would overhear. But Ferdinand did not think proper to gratify her
impatience, because he could not judge of the predicament in which he
stood by the evidence of all his senses, and would not relinquish his
post, until he should be better certified that the coast was clear.
Meanwhile, his Dulcinea, having performed her inquiry to no purpose,
imagined there was something preternatural in the circumstance of his
vanishing so unaccountably, and began to cross herself with great
devotion. She returned to her chamber, fixed the lamp in the fireplace,
and, throwing herself upon the bed, gave way to the suggestions of her
superstition, which were reinforced by the silence that prevailed, and
the gloomy glimmering of the light. She reflected upon the trespass she
had already committed in her heart, and, in the conjectures of her fear,
believed that her lover was no other than the devil himself, who had
assumed the appearance of Fathom, in order to tempt and seduce her
virtue.
While her imagination teemed with those horrible ideas, our adventurer,
concluding, from the general stillness, that the jeweller and his wife
were at last happily asleep, ventured to come forth from his
hiding-place, and stood before his mistress all begrimed with soot.
Wilhelmina, lifting up her eyes, and seeing this sable apparition, which
she mistook for Satan in propria persona, instantly screamed, and began
to repeat her pater-noster with an audible voice. Upon which Ferdinand,
foreseeing that her parents would be again alarmed, would not stay to
undeceive her and explain himself, but, unlocking the door with great
expedition, ran downstairs, and luckily accomplished his escape. This
was undoubtedly the wisest measure he could have taken; for he had not
performed one half of his descent toward the street, when the German was
at his daughter's bedside, demanding to know the cause of her
exclamation. She then gave him an account of what she had seen, with all
the exaggerations of her own fancy, and, after having weighed the
circumstances of her story, he interpreted the apparition into a thief,
who had found means to open the door that communicated with the stair;
but, having been scared by Wilhelmina's shriek, had been obliged to
retreat before he could execute his purpose.
Our hero's spirits were so wofully disturbed by this adventure, that, for
a whole week, he felt no inclination to visit his inamorata, and was not
without apprehension that the affair had terminated in an explanation
very little to his advantage. He was, however, delivered from this
disagreeable suspense, by an accidental meeting with the jeweller
himself, who kindly chid him for his long absence, and entertained him in
the street with an account of the alarm which his family had sustained,
by a thief who broke into Wilhelmina's apartment. Glad to find his
apprehension mistaken, he renewed his correspondence with the family,
and, in a little time, found reason to console himself for the jeopardy
and panic he had undergone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HE IS REDUCED TO A DREADFUL DILEMMA, IN CONSEQUENCE OF AN ASSIGNATION
WITH THE WIFE.
Nor was his whole care and attention engrossed by the execution of this
scheme upon the daughter. While he managed his concerns in that quarter
with incredible ardour and application, he was not the less indefatigable
in the prosecution of his design upon the mother-in-law, which he
forwarded with all his art during those opportunities he enjoyed in the
absence of Wilhelmina, who was frequently called away by the domestic
duties of the house. The passions of the jeweller's wife were in such a
state of exaltation, as exempted our hero from the repulses and fatigue
attending a long siege.
We have already observed how cunningly he catered for the gratification
of her ruling appetite, and have exhibited pregnant proofs of his ability
in gaining upon the human heart; the reader will not therefore be
surprised at the rapidity of his conquest over the affections of a lady
whose complexion was perfectly amorous, and whose vanity laid her open to
all the attempts of adulation. In a word, matters were quickly brought
to such a mutual understanding, that, one evening, while they amused
themselves at lansquenet, Fathom conjured her to give him the rendezvous
next day at the house of any third person of her own sex, in whose
discretion she could confide; and, after a few affected scruples on her
side, which he well knew how to surmount, she complied with his request,
and the circumstances of the appointment were settled accordingly. After
this treaty, their satisfaction rose to such a warmth, and the
conversation became so reciprocally endearing, that our gallant expressed
his impatience of waiting so long for the accomplishment of his wishes,
and, with the most eager transport, begged she would, if possible,
curtail the term of his expectation, that his brain might not suffer by
his standing so many tedious hours on the giddy verge of rapture.
The dame, who was naturally compassionate, sympathised with his
condition, and, unable to resist his pathetic supplications, gave him to
understand that his desire could not be granted, without subjecting them
both to some hazard, but that she was disposed to run any risk in behalf
of his happiness and peace. After this affectionate preamble, she told
him that her husband was then engaged in a quarterly meeting of the
jewellers, from whence he never failed to return quite overwhelmed with
wine, tobacco, and the phlegm of his own constitution; so that he would
fall fast asleep as soon as his head should touch the pillow, and she be
at liberty to entertain the lover without interruption, provided he could
find means to deceive the jealous vigilance of Wilhelmina, and conceal
himself in some corner of the house, unsuspected and unperceived.
Our lover, remembering his adventure with the daughter, would have
willingly dispensed with this expedient, and began to repent of the
eagerness with which he had preferred his solicitation; but, seeing there
was now no opportunity of retracting with honour, he affected to enter
heartily into the conversation, and, after much canvassing, it was
determined, that, while Wilhelmina was employed in the kitchen, the
mother should conduct our adventurer to the outer door, where he should
pay the compliment of parting, so as to be overheard by the young lady;
but, in the meantime, glide softly into the jeweller's bedchamber, which
was a place they imagined least liable to the effects of a daughter's
prying disposition, and conceal himself in a large press or wardrobe,
that stood in one corner of the apartment. The scene was immediately
acted with great success, and our hero cooped up in his cage, where he
waited so long, that his desires began to subside, and his imagination to
aggravate the danger of his situation.
"Suppose," said he to himself, "this brutal German, instead of being
stupefied with wine, should come home inflamed with brandy, to the use of
which he is sometimes addicted, far from feeling any inclination to
sleep, he will labour under the most fretful anxiety of watching; every
irascible particle in his disposition will be exasperated; he will be
offended with every object that may present itself to his view; and, if
there is the least ingredient of jealousy in his temper, it will manifest
itself in riot and rage. What if his frenzy should prompt him to search
his wife's chamber for gallants? this would certainly be the first place
to which he would direct his inquiry; or, granting this supposition
chimerical, I may be seized with an irresistible inclination to cough,
before he is oppressed with sleep; he may be waked by the noise I shall
make in disengaging myself from this embarrassed situation; and, finally,
I may find it impracticable to retire unseen or unheard, after everything
else shall have succeeded to my wish."
These suggestions did not at all contribute to the quiet of our
adventurer, who, having waited three whole hours in the most
uncomfortable suspense, heard the jeweller brought into the room in that
very condition which his fears had prognosticated. He had, it seems,
quarrelled over his cups with another tradesman, and received a
salutation on the forehead with a candlestick, which not only left an
ignominious and painful mark upon his countenance, but even disordered
his brain to a very dangerous degree of delirium; so that, instead of
allowing himself quietly to be undressed and put to bed by his wife, he
answered all her gentle admonitions and caresses with the most
opprobrious invectives and obstreperous behaviour; and, though he did not
tax her with infidelity to his bed, he virulently accused her of
extravagance and want of economy; observed, her expensive way of living
would bring him to a morsel of bread; and unfortunately recollecting the
attempt of the supposed thief, started up from his chair, swearing by
G--'s mother that he would forthwith arm himself with a brace of pistols,
and search every apartment in the house. "That press," said he, with
great vociferation, "may, for aught I know, be the receptacle of some
ruffian."
So saying, he approached the ark in which Fathom was embarked, and
exclaiming, "Come forth, Satan," applied his foot to the door of it, with
such violence as threw him from the centre of gravity, and laid him
sprawling on his back. This address made such an impression upon our
adventurer, that he had well-nigh obeyed the summons, and burst from his
concealment, in a desperate effort to escape, without being recognised by
the intoxicated German; and indeed, had the application been repeated, he
in all likelihood would have tried the experiment, for by this time his
terrors had waxed too strong to be much longer suppressed. From this
hazardous enterprise he was, however, exempted by a lucky accident that
happened to his disturber, whose head chancing to pitch upon the corner
of a chair in his fall, he was immediately lulled into a trance, during
which the considerate lady, guessing the disorder of her gallant, and
dreading further interruption, very prudently released him from his
confinement, after she had put out the light, and in the dark conveyed
him to the door, where he was comforted with the promise that she would
punctually remember the rendezvous of next day.
She then invoked the assistance of the servants, who, being waked for the
purpose, lifted up their master, and tumbled him into bed, while
Ferdinand hied him home in an universal sweat, blessing himself from any
future achievement of that sort in a house where he had been twice in
such imminent danger of life and reputation. Nevertheless, he did not
fail to honour the assignation, and avail himself of the disposition his
mistress manifested to make him all the recompense in her power for the
disappointment and chagrin which he had undergone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BUT AT LENGTH SUCCEEDS IN HIS ATTEMPT UPON BOTH.
Having thus gained a complete victory over the affections of these two
ladies, he began to convert his good fortune to the purposes of that
principle, from which his view was never, no, not for a moment, detached.
In other words, he used them as ministers and purveyors to his avarice
and fraud. As for the mother-in-law, she was of herself so liberal as to
anticipate the wishes of any moderate adventurer, and presented him with
sundry valuable jewels, as memorials of her esteem; nor was the daughter
backward in such expressions of regard; she already considered his
interest as her own, and took frequent opportunities of secreting for his
benefit certain stray trinkets that she happened to pick up in her
excursions within doors.
All these gratifications he received with demonstrations of infinite
constraint and reluctance, and, in the midst of his rapacious extortion,
acted so cunningly as to impose himself upon both for a miracle of
disinterested integrity. Yet, not contented with what he thus could
earn, and despairing of being able to steer the bark of his fortune for
any length of time between two such dangerous quicksands, he resolved to
profit by the occasion while it lasted, and strike some considerable
stroke at once. A plan was formed in consequence of this determination,
and, at an appointment with the mother in the house of their female
friend, our adventurer appeared with an air of dejection, which he veiled
with a thin cover of forced pleasantry, that his mistress might suppose
he endeavoured to conceal some mortal chagrin that preyed upon his heart.
The stratagem succeeded to his wish. She observed his countenance
between whiles overcast, took notice of the involuntary sighs he heaved;
and, with the most tender expressions of sympathy, conjured him to make
her acquainted with the cause of his affliction. Instead of gratifying
her request immediately, he evaded her questions with a respectful
reserve, implying, that his love would not suffer him to make her a
partner in his sorrow; and this delicacy on his part whetted her
impatience and concern to such a degree, that, rather than keep her in
such an agony of doubt and apprehension, he was prevailed upon to tell
her, that he had been, the preceding night, engaged with a company of his
fellow-students, where he had made too free with the champagne, so that
his caution forsook him, and he had been decoyed into play by a Tyrolese
gamester, who stripped him of all his ready money, and obtained from him
an obligation for two hundred florins, which he could not possibly pay
without having recourse to his relation the Count de Melvil, who would
have just cause to be incensed at his extravagance.
This information he concluded, by declaring that, cost what it would, he
was resolved to make a candid confession of the truth, and throw himself
entirely upon the generosity of his patron, who could inflict no other
punishment than that of discarding him from his favour and protection,--a
misfortune which, how grievous soever it might be, he should be able to
sustain with fortitude, could he fall upon some method of satisfying the
Tyrolese, who was very importunate and savage in his demand. His kind
mistress no sooner found out the source of his inquietude, than she
promised to dry it up, assuring him that next day, at the same hour, she
would enable him to discharge the debt; so that he might set his heart at
ease, and recollect that gaiety which was the soul of her enjoyment.
He expressed the utmost astonishment at this generous proffer, which,
however, he declined, with an affected earnestness of refusal,
protesting, that he should be extremely mortified, if he thought she
looked upon him as one of those mercenary gallants who could make such a
sordid use of a lady's affection. "No, madam," cried our politician in a
pathetic strain, "whatever happens, I shall never part with that internal
consolation, that conscious honour never fails to yield in the deepest
scenes of solitary distress. The attachment I have the honour to profess
for your amiable person, is not founded on such inglorious motives, but
is the genuine result of that generous passion which none but the
noble-minded feel, and the only circumstance of this misfortune that I
dread to encounter, is the necessity of withdrawing myself for ever from
the presence of her whose genial smiles could animate my soul against all
the persecution of adverse fortune."
This declamation, accompanied with a profound sigh, served only to
inflame her desire of extricating him from the difficulty in which he was
involved. She exhausted all her eloquence in attempting to persuade him
that his refusal was an outrage against her affection. He pretended to
refute her arguments, and remained unshaken by all the power of her
solicitations, until she had recourse to the most passionate
remonstrances of love, and fell at his feet in the posture of a forlorn
shepherdess. What he refused to her reason, he granted to her tears,
because his heart was melted by her affliction, and next day condescended
to accept of her money, out of pure regard to her happiness and peace.
Encouraged by the success of this achievement, he resolved to practise
the same experiment upon Wilhelmina, in hope of extracting an equal share
of profit from her simplicity and attachment, and, at their very next
nocturnal rendezvous in her chamber, reacted the farce already rehearsed,
with a small variation, which he thought necessary to stimulate the young
lady in his behalf. He rightly concluded, that she was by no means
mistress of such a considerable sum as he had already extorted from her
mother, and therefore thought proper to represent himself in the most
urgent predicament, that her apprehension, on his account, might be so
alarmed as to engage her in some enterprise for his advantage, which
otherwise she would never have dreamed of undertaking. With this view,
after having described his own calamitous situation, in consequence of
her pressing entreaties, which he affected to evade, he gave her to
understand, that there was no person upon earth to whom he would have
recourse in this emergency; for which reason he was determined to rid
himself of all his cares at once, upon the friendly point of his own
faithful sword.
Such a dreadful resolution could not fail to operate upon the tender
passions of his Dulcinea; she was instantly seized with an agony of fear
and distraction. Her grief manifested itself in a flood of tears, while
she hung round his neck, conjuring him in the most melting terms, by
their mutual love, in which they had been so happy, to lay aside that
fatal determination, which would infallibly involve her in the same fate;
for, she took Heaven to witness, that she would not one moment survive
the knowledge of his death.
He was not deficient in expressions of reciprocal regard. He extolled
her love and tenderness with a most extravagant eulogium, and seemed
wrung with mortal anguish at the prospect of parting for ever from his
lovely Wilhelmina; but his honour was a stern and rigid creditor, that
could not be appeased, except with his blood; and all the boon she could
obtain, by dint of the most woful supplication, was a promise to defer
the execution of his baleful purpose for the space of four-and-twenty
hours, during which she hoped Heaven would compassionate her sufferings,
and inspire her with some contrivance for their mutual relief. Thus he
yielded to her fervent request, rather with a view to calm the present
transports of her sorrow, than with any expectation of seeing himself
redeemed from his fate by her interposition; such at least were his
professions when he took his leave, assuring her, that he would not quit
his being before he should have devoted a few hours to another interview
with the dear object of his love.
Having thus kindled the train, he did not doubt that the mine of his
craft would take effect, and repaired to his own lodging, in full
persuasion of seeing his aim accomplished, before the time fixed for
their last assignation. His prognostic was next morning verified by the
arrival of a messenger, who brought to him a small parcel, to which was
cemented, with sealing wax, the following epistle:--
"JEWEL OF MY SOUL!--Scarce had you, last night, quitted my disconsolate
arms, when I happily recollected that there was in my possession a gold
chain, of value more than sufficient to answer the exigence of your
present occasions. It was pledged to my grandfather for two hundred
crowns by a knight of Malta, who soon after perished in a sea engagement
with the enemies of our faith, so that it became the property of our
house, and was bequeathed to me by the old gentleman, as a memorial of
his particular affection. Upon whom can I more properly bestow it, than
him who is already master of my heart! Receive it, therefore, from the
bearer of this billet, and convert it, without scruple, to that use which
shall be most conducive to your ease and satisfaction; nor seek, from a
true romantic notion of honour, which I know you entertain, to excuse
yourself from accepting this testimony of my affection. For I have
already sworn before an image of our blessed Lady, that I will no longer
own you as the sovereign of my heart, nor even indulge you with another
interview, if you reject this mark of tenderness and concern from your
ever faithful WILHELMINA."
The heart of our adventurer began to bound with joy when he surveyed the
contents of this letter; and his eyes sparkled with transport at sight of
the chain, which he immediately perceived to be worth twice the sum she
had mentioned. Nevertheless, he would not avail himself, without further
question, of her generosity; but, that same night, repairing to her
apartment at the usual hour of meeting, he prostrated himself before her,
and counterfeiting extreme agitation of spirit, begged, in the most
urgent terms, not even unaccompanied with tears, that she would take back
the present, which he tendered for her acceptance, and spare him the most
insufferable mortification of thinking himself exposed to the imputation
of being mercenary in his love. Such, he said, was the delicacy of his
passion, that he could not possibly exist under the apprehension of
incurring a censure so unworthy of his sentiments; and he would a
thousand times sooner undergo the persecution of his rancorous creditor,
than bear the thought of being in the smallest consideration lessened in
her esteem; nay, so far did he carry his pretensions to punctilio, as to
protest, that, should she refuse to quiet the scruples of his honour on
this score, her unyielding beneficence would serve only to hasten the
execution of his determined purpose, to withdraw himself at once from a
life of vanity and misfortune.
The more pathetically he pleaded for her compliance, the more strenuously
did she resist his remonstrances. She advanced all the arguments her
reason, love, and terror could suggest, reminded him of her oath, from
which he could not suppose she would recede, whatever the consequence
might be; and in conclusion vowed to Heaven, with great solemnity and
devotion, that she would not survive the news of his death. Thus the
alternative she offered was either to retain the chain and be happy in
her affection, or forfeit all title to her love, and die in the
conviction of having brought his innocent mistress to an untimely grave.
His fortitude was not proof against this last consideration. "My savage
honour," said he, "would enable me to endure the pangs of eternal
separation in the confidence of being endowed with the power of ending
these tortures by the energy of my own hand; but the prospect of
Wilhelmina's death, and that too occasioned by my inflexibility, disarms
my soul of all her resolution, swallows up the dictates of my jealous
pride, and fills my bosom with such a gush of tenderness and sorrow, as
overwhelms the whole economy of my purpose! Yes, enchanting creature! I
sacrifice my glory to that irresistible reflection; and, rather than know
myself the cruel instrument of robbing the world of such perfection,
consent to retain the fatal testimony of your love."
So saying, he pocketed the chain, with an air of ineffable mortification,
and was rewarded for his compliance with the most endearing caresses of
his Dulcinea, who, amidst the tumults of her joy, ejaculated a thousand
acknowledgments to Heaven for having blessed her with the affection of
such a man, whose honour was unrivalled by anything but his love.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HIS SUCCESS BEGETS A BLIND SECURITY, BY WHICH HE IS ONCE AGAIN WELL-NIGH
ENTRAPPED IN HIS DULCINEA'S APARTMENT.
In this manner did the crafty Fathom turn to account those ingratiating
qualifications he inherited from nature, and maintain, with incredible
assiduity and circumspection, an amorous correspondence with two domestic
rivals, who watched the conduct of each other with the most indefatigable
virulence of envious suspicion, until an accident happened, which had
well-nigh overturned the bark of his policy, and induced him to alter the
course, that he might not be shipwrecked on the rocks that began to
multiply in the prosecution of his present voyage.
The jeweller, who, as a German, wanted neither pride nor ostentation,
never failed to celebrate the anniversary of his birth by an annual feast
granted to his neighbours and friends; and on these occasions was
accustomed to wear that chain which, though bequeathed to his daughter,
he considered as an ornament appertaining to the family, whereof he
himself was head. Accordingly, when the time of this festival revolved,
he, as usual, ordered Wilhelmina to surrender it for the day. This
injunction, the reader will perceive, our young lady was in no condition
to obey; she had, however, foreseen the demand, and contrived a scheme of
behaviour for the occasion, which she forthwith put in execution.
With an air of uncommon cheerfulness, purposely assumed, she retired to
her closet, on pretence of complying with his desire, and, having
employed a few minutes in rummaging her drawers and disordering her
moveables, uttered a loud shriek, that brought her father instantly into
the apartment, where he found his daughter tossing about her clothes and
trinkets with violent demonstrations of disorder and affright, and heard
her, in a lamentable strain, declare that she was robbed of her chain,
and for ever undone. This was so far from being an agreeable intimation
to the jeweller, that he was struck dumb with astonishment and vexation,
and it was not till after a long pause that he pronounced the word
Sacrament! with an emphasis denoting the most mortifying surprise.
Soon as that exclamation escaped from his lips, he flew to the escritoire
as if instinctively, and, joining Wilhelmina in her occupation, tumbled
its whole contents upon the floor in a trice.
While he was thus employed, in the most expressive silence, the wife of
his bosom chanced to pass that way, and seeing them both occupied with
such violence and trepidation, believed at first that they were certainly
actuated by the spirit of frenzy; but, when she interposed, by asking,
with great earnestness, the cause of such transports and distracted
behaviour, and heard her husband reply, with an accent of despair, "The
chain! the chain of my forefathers is no more!" she immediately justified
his emotion, by undergoing the same alarm, and, without further
hesitation, engaged herself in the search, beginning with a song, which
might be compared to the hymn of battle among the Greeks, or rather more
aptly to that which the Spartan females sung round the altar of Diana,
surnamed Orthian; for it was attended with strange gesticulations, and,
in the course of utterance, became so loud and shrill, that the guests,
who were by this time partly assembled, being confounded at the clamour,
rushed towards the place from whence it seemed to proceed, and found
their landlord, with his wife and daughter, in the attitudes of
distraction and despair.
When they understood the nature of the case, they condoled the family on
their misfortune, and would have retired, on the supposition that it
would defeat the mirthful intent of their meeting; but the jeweller,
mustering up his whole temper and hospitality, entreated them to excuse
his disorder, and favour him with their company, which, he observed, was
now more than ever wanted, to dispel the melancholy ideas inspired by his
loss. Notwithstanding this apology, and the efforts he made in the
sequel to entertain his friends with jollity and good-humour, his heart
was so linked to the chain, that he could not detach himself from the
thoughts of it, which invaded him at short intervals in such qualms as
effectually spoiled his appetite, and hindered his digestion.
He revolved within himself the circumstances of his disaster, and, in
canvassing all the probable means by which the chain would be stolen,
concluded that the deed must have been done by some person in the family,
who, in consequence of having access to his daughter's chamber, had
either found the drawer left open by her carelessness and neglect, or
found means to obtain a false key, by some waxen impression; for the
locks of the escritoire were safe and uninjured. His suspicion being
thus confined within his own house, sometimes pitched upon his workmen,
and sometimes upon his wife, who, he thought, was the more likely to
practise such finesse, as she considered Wilhelmina in the light of a
daughter-in-law, whose interest interfered with her own, and who had
often harangued to him in private on the folly of leaving this very chain
in the young lady's possession.
The more he considered this subject, he thought he saw the more reason to
attribute the damage he had sustained to the machinations of his spouse,
who, he did not doubt, was disposed to feather her own nest, at the
expense of him and his heirs, and who, with the same honest intention,
had already secreted, for her private use, those inconsiderable jewels
which of late had at different times been missing. Aroused by these
sentiments, he resolved to retaliate her own schemes, by contriving means
to visit her cabinet in secret, and, if possible, to rob the robber of
the spoils she had gathered to his prejudice, without coming to any
explanation, which might end in domestic turmoils and eternal disquiet.
While the husband exercised his reflection in this manner, his innocent
mate did not allow the powers of her imagination to rest in idleness and
sloth. Her observations touching the loss of the chain were such as a
suspicious woman, biassed by hatred and envy, would naturally make. To
her it seemed highly improbable, that a thing of such value, so carefully
deposited, should vanish without the connivance of its keeper, and
without much expense of conjecture, divined the true manner in which it
was conveyed. The sole difficulty that occurred in the researches of her
sagacity, was to know the gallant who had been favoured with such a
pledge of Wilhelmina's affection; for, as the reader will easily imagine,
she never dreamed of viewing Ferdinand in that odious perspective. In
order to satisfy her curiosity, discover this happy favourite, and be
revenged on her petulant rival, she prevailed upon the jeweller to employ
a scout, who should watch all night upon the stair, without the knowledge
of any other person in the family, alleging, that in all likelihood, the
housemaid gave private admittance to some lover who was the author of all
the losses they had lately suffered, and that they might possibly detect
him in his nocturnal adventures; and observing that it would be imprudent
to intimate their design to Wilhelmina, lest, through the heedlessness
and indiscretion of youth, she might chance to divulge the secret, so as
to frustrate their aim.
A Swiss, in whose honesty the German could confide, being hired for this
purpose, was posted in a dark corner of the staircase, within a few paces
of the door, which he was directed to watch, and actually stood sentinel
three nights, without perceiving the least object of suspicion; but, on
the fourth, the evil stars of our adventurer conducted him to the spot,
on his voyage to the apartment of his Dulcinea, with whom he had
preconcerted the assignation. Having made the signal, which consisted of
two gentle taps on her door, he was immediately admitted; and the Swiss
no sooner saw him fairly housed, than he crept softly to the other door,
that was left open for the purpose, and gave immediate intimation of what
he had perceived. This intelligence, however, he could not convey so
secretly, but the lovers, who were always vigilant upon these occasions,
overheard a sort of commotion in the jeweller's chamber, the cause of
which their apprehension was ingenious enough to comprehend.
We have formerly observed that our adventurer could not make his retreat
by the door, without running a very great risk of being detected, and the
expedient of the chimney he had no inclination to repeat; so that he
found himself in a very uncomfortable dilemma, and was utterly abandoned
by all his invention and address, when his mistress, in a whisper,
desired him to begin a dialogue, aloud, in an apology, importing, that he
had mistaken the door, and that his intention was to visit her father,
touching a ring belonging to the young Count Melvil, which she knew
Fathom had put into his hands, in order to be altered.
Ferdinand, seizing the hint, availed himself of it without delay, and,
unbolting the door, pronounced in an audible voice, "Upon my honour,
Mademoiselle, you wrong my intention, if you imagine I came hither with
any disrespectful or dishonourable motive. I have business with your
father, which cannot be delayed till to-morrow, without manifest
prejudice to my friend and myself; therefore I took the liberty of
visiting him at these untimely hours, and it has been my misfortune to
mistake the door in the dark. I beg pardon for my involuntary intrusion,
and again assure you, that nothing was farther from my thoughts than any
design to violate that respect which I have always entertained for you
and your father's family."
To this remonstrance, which was distinctly heard by the German and his
wife, who by this time stood listening at the door, the young lady
replied, in a shrill accent of displeasure, "Sir, I am bound to believe
that all your actions are conducted by honour; but you must give me leave
to tell you, that your mistake is a little extraordinary, and your visit,
even to my father, at this time of the night, altogether unseasonable, if
not mysterious. As for the interruption I have suffered in my repose, I
impute it to my own forgetfulness, in leaving my door unlocked, and blame
myself so severely for the omission, that I shall, to-morrow, put it out
of my own power to be guilty of the like for the future, by ordering the
passage to be nailed up; meanwhile, if you would persuade me of your
well-meaning, you will instantly withdraw, lest my reputation should
suffer by your continuance in my apartment."
"Madam," answered our hero, "I will not give you an opportunity to repeat
the command, which I shall forthwith obey, after having entreated you
once more to forgive the disturbance I have given." So saying, he gently
opened the door, and, at sight of the German and his wife, who, he well
knew, waited for his exit, started back, and gave tokens of confusion,
which was partly real and partly affected. The jeweller, fully satisfied
with Fathom's declaration to his daughter, received him with a
complaisant look, and, in order to alleviate his concern, gave him to
understand, that he already knew the reason of his being in that
apartment, and desired to be informed of what had procured him the honour
to see him at such a juncture.
"My dear friend," said our adventurer, pretending to recollect himself
with difficulty, "I am utterly ashamed and confounded to be discovered in
this situation; but, as you have overheard what passed between
Mademoiselle and me, I know you will do justice to my intention, and
forgive my mistake. After begging pardon for having intruded upon your
family at these hours, I must now tell you that my cousin, Count Melvil,
was some time ago so much misrepresented to his mother by certain
malicious informers, who delight in sowing discord in private families,
that she actually believed her son an extravagant spendthrift, who had
not only consumed his remittances in the most riotous scenes of disorder,
but also indulged a pernicious appetite for gaming, to such a degree,
that he had lost all his clothes and jewels at play. In consequence of
such false information, she expostulated with him in a severe letter, and
desired he would transmit to her that ring which is in your custody, it
being a family stone, for which she expressed an inestimable value. The
young gentleman, in his answer to her reproof, endeavoured to vindicate
himself from the aspersions which had been cast upon his character, and,
with regard to the ring, told her it was at present in the hands of a
jeweller, in order to be new set according to her own directions, and
that, whenever it should be altered, he would send it home to her by some
safe conveyance. This account the good lady took for an evasion, and
upon that supposition has again written to him, in such a provoking
style, that, although the letter arrived but half an hour ago, he is
determined to despatch a courier before morning with the mischievous
ring, for which, in compliance with the impetuosity of his temper, I have
taken the freedom to disturb you at this unseasonable hour."
The German paid implicit faith to every circumstance of his story, which
indeed could not well be supposed to be invented extempore; the ring was
immediately restored, and our adventurer took his leave, congratulating
himself upon his signal deliverance from the snare in which he had
fallen.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE STEP-DAME'S SUSPICIONS BEING AWAKENED, SHE LAYS A SNARE FOR OUR
ADVENTURER, FROM WHICH HE IS DELIVERED BY THE INTERPOSITION OF HIS GOOD
GENIUS.
Though the husband swallowed the bait without further inquiry, the
penetration of the wife was not so easily deceived. That same dialogue
in Wilhelmina's apartment, far from allaying, rather inflamed her
suspicion; because, in the like emergency, she herself had once profited
by the same, or nearly the same contrivance. Without communicating her
doubts to the father, she resolved to double her attention to the
daughter's future conduct, and keep such a strict eye over the behaviour
of our gallant, that he should find it very difficult, if not impossible,
to elude her observation. For this purpose she took into her pay an old
maiden, of the right sour disposition, who lived in a house opposite to
her own, and directed her to follow the young lady in all her outgoings,
whenever she should receive from the window a certain signal, which the
mother-in-law agreed to make for the occasion. It was not long before
this scheme succeeded to her wish. The door of communication betwixt
Wilhelmina's apartment and the staircase being nailed up by the
jeweller's express order, our adventurer was altogether deprived of those
opportunities he had hitherto enjoyed, and was not at all mortified to
find himself so restricted in a correspondence which began to be tiresome
and disagreeable. But the case was far otherwise with his Dulcinea,
whose passion, the more it was thwarted, raged with greater violence,
like a fire, that, from the attempts that are made to extinguish it,
gathers greater force, and flames with double fury.
Upon the second day of her misfortune, she had written a very tender
billet, lamenting her unhappiness in being deprived of those meetings
which constituted the chief joy of her life, and entreating him to
contrive some means of renewing the delicious commerce in an unsuspected
place. This intimation she proposed to convey privately into the hand of
her lover, during his next visit to the family; but both were so narrowly
eyed by the mother, that she found the execution of her design
impracticable; and next forenoon, on pretence of going to church,
repaired to the house of a companion, who, being also her confidant,
undertook to deliver the billet with her own hand.
The she-dragon employed by her mother, in obedience to the sign which was
displayed from the window immediately put on her veil, and followed
Wilhelmina at a distance, until she saw her fairly housed. She would not
even then return from her excursion, but hovered about in sight of the
door, with a view of making further observations. In less than five
minutes after the young lady disappeared, the scout perceived her coming
out, accompanied by her comrade, from whom she instantly parted, and bent
her way towards the church in good earnest, while the other steered her
course in another direction. The duenna, after a moment's suspense and
consideration, divined the true cause of this short visit, and resolved
to watch the motions of the confidant, whom she traced to the academy in
which our hero lodged, and from which she saw her return, after the
supposed message was delivered.
Fraught with this intelligence, the rancorous understrapper hied her home
to the jeweller's wife, and made a faithful recital of what she had seen,
communicating at the same time her own conjectures on that subject. Her
employer was equally astonished and incensed at this information. She
was seized with all that frenzy which takes possession of a slighted
woman, when she finds herself supplanted by a detested rival; and, in the
first transports of her indignation, devoted them as sacrifices to her
vengeance. Nor was her surprise so much the effect of his dissimulation,
as of his want of taste and discernment. She inveighed against him, not
as the most treacherous lover, but as the most abject wretch, in courting
the smiles of such an awkward dowdy, while he enjoyed the favours of a
woman who had numbered princes in the train of her admirers. For the
brilliancy of her attractions, such as they at present shone, she
appealed to the decision of her minister, who consulted her own
satisfaction and interest, by flattering the other's vanity and
resentment; and so unaccountable did the depravity of our hero's judgment
appear to this conceited dame, that she began to believe there was some
mistake in the person, and to hope that Wilhelmina's gallant was not in
reality her professed admirer, Mr. Fathom, but rather one of his
fellow-lodgers, whose passion he favoured with his mediation and
assistance.
On this notion, which nothing but mere vanity could have inspired, in
opposition to so many more weighty presumptions, she took the resolution
of bringing the affair to a fuller explanation, before she would concert
any measures to the prejudice of our adventurer, and forthwith despatched
her spy back to his lodgings, to solicit, on the part of Wilhelmina, an
immediate answer to the letter he had received. This was an expedition
with which the old maiden would have willingly dispensed, because it was
founded upon an uncertainty, which might be attended with troublesome
consequences; but, rather than be the means of retarding a negotiation so
productive of that sort of mischief which is particularly agreeable to
all of her tribe, she undertook to manage and effect the discovery, in
full confidence of her own talents and experience.
With such a fund of self-sufficiency and instigation, she repaired to the
academy on the instant, and inquiring for Mr. Fathom, was introduced to
his apartment, where she found him in the very act of writing a billet to
the jeweller's daughter. The artful agent having asked, with the
mysterious air of an expert go-between, if he had not lately received a
message from a certain young lady, and, being answered in the
affirmative, gave him to understand, that she herself was a person
favoured with the friendship and confidence of Wilhelmina, whom she had
known from her cradle, and often dandled on her knee; then, in the
genuine style of a prattling dry nurse, she launched out in encomiums on
his Dulcinea's beauty and sweetness of temper, recounting many simple
occurrences of her infancy and childhood; and, finally, desiring a more
circumstantial answer to that which she had sent to him by her friend
Catherina. In the course of her loquacity she had also, according to her
instructions, hinted at the misfortune of the door; and, on the whole,
performed her cue with such dexterity and discretion that our politician
was actually overreached, and, having finished his epistle, committed it
to her care, with many verbal expressions of eternal love and fidelity to
his charming Wilhelmina.
The messenger, doubly rejoiced at her achievement, which not only
recommended her ministry, but also gratified her malice, returned to her
principal with great exultation, and, delivering the letter, the reader
will easily conceive the transports of that lady when she read the
contents of it in these words:--
"ANGELIC WILHELMINA!--To forget those ecstatic scenes we have enjoyed
together, or even live without the continuation of that mutual bliss,
were to quit all title to perception, and resign every hope of future
happiness. No! my charmer, while my head retains the least spark of
invention, and my heart glows with the resolution of a man, our
correspondence shall not be cut off by the machinations of an envious
stepmother, who never had attractions to inspire a generous passion; and,
now that age and wrinkles have destroyed what little share of beauty she
once possessed, endeavours, like the fiend in paradise, to blast those
joys in others, from which she is herself eternally excluded. Doubt not,
dear sovereign of my soul! that I will study, with all the eagerness of
desiring love, how to frustrate her malicious intention, and renew those
transporting moments, the remembrance of which now warms the breast of
your ever constant FATHOM."
Had our hero murdered her father, or left her a disconsolate widow, by
effecting the death of her dear husband, there might have been a
possibility of her exerting the Christian virtues of resignation and
forgiveness; but such a personal outrage as that contained in this
epistle precluded all hope of pardon, and rendered penitence of no
signification. His atrocious crime being now fully ascertained, this
virago gave a loose to her resentment, which became so loud and
tempestuous, that her informer shuddered at the storm she had raised, and
began to repent of having communicated the intelligence which seemed to
have such a violent effect upon hex brain.
She endeavoured, however, to allay the agitation, by flattering her fancy
with the prospect of revenge, and gradually soothed her into a state of
deliberate ire; during which she determined to take ample vengeance on
the delinquent. In the zenith of her rage, she would have had immediate
recourse to poison or steel, had she not been diverted from her mortal
purpose by her counsellor, who represented the danger of engaging in such
violent measures, and proposed a more secure scheme, in the execution of
which she would see the perfidious wretch sufficiently punished, without
any hazard to her own person or reputation. She advised her to inform
the jeweller of Fathom's efforts to seduce her conjugal fidelity, and
impart to him a plan, by which he would have it in his power to detect
our adventurer in the very act of practising upon her virtue.
The lady relished her proposal, and actually resolved to make an
assignation with Ferdinand, as usual, and give notice of the appointment
to her husband, that he might personally discover the treachery of his
pretended friend, and inflict upon him such chastisement as the German's
brutal disposition should suggest, when inflamed by that species of
provocation. Had this project been brought to bear, Ferdinand, in all
likelihood, would have been disqualified from engaging in any future
intrigue; but fate ordained that the design should be defeated, in order
to reserve him for more important occasions.
Before the circumstances of the plan could be adjusted, it was his good
fortune to meet his Dulcinea in the street, and, in the midst of their
mutual condolence on the interruption they had suffered in their
correspondence, he assured her, that he would never give his invention
respite, until he should have verified the protestations contained in the
letter he had delivered to her discreet agent. This allusion to a billet
she had never received, did not fail to alarm her fears, and introduce a
very mortifying explanation, in which he so accurately described the
person of the messenger, that she forthwith comprehended the plot, and
communicated to our hero her sentiments on that subject.
Though he expressed infinite anxiety and chagrin at this misfortune,
which could not fail to raise new obstacles to their love, his heart was
a stranger to the uneasiness he affected; and rather pleased with the
occasion, which would furnish him with pretences to withdraw himself
gradually from an intercourse by this time become equally cloying and
unprofitable. Being well acquainted with the mother's temperament, he
guessed the present situation of her thoughts, and concluding she would
make the jeweller a party in her revenge, he resolved from that moment to
discontinue his visits, and cautiously guard against any future interview
with the lady whom he had rendered so implacable.
It was well for our adventurer that his good fortune so seasonably
interposed; for that same day, in the afternoon, he was favoured with a
billet from the jeweller's wife, couched in the same tender style she had
formerly used, and importing an earnest desire of seeing him next day at
the wonted rendezvous. Although his penetration was sufficient to
perceive the drift of this message, or at least to discern the risk he
should run in complying with her request, yet he was willing to be more
fully certified of the truth of his suspicion, and wrote an answer to the
billet, in which he assured her, that he would repair to the place of
appointment with all the punctuality of an impatient lover.
Nevertheless, instead of performing this promise, he, in the morning,
took post in a public-house opposite to the place of assignation, in
order to reconnoitre the ground, and about noon had the pleasure of
seeing the German, wrapped in a cloak, enter the door of his wife's
she-friend, though the appointment was fixed at five in the evening.
Fathom blessed his good angel for having conducted him clear of this
conspiracy, and kept his station with great tranquillity till the hour of
meeting, when he beheld his enraged Thalestris take the same route, and
enjoyed her disappointment with ineffable satisfaction.
Thus favoured with a pretext, he took his leave of her, in a letter,
giving her to understand, that he was no stranger to the barbarous snare
she had laid for him; and upbraiding her with having made such an
ungrateful return for all his tenderness and attachment. She was not
backward in conveying a reply to this expostulation, which seemed to have
been dictated in all the distraction of a proud woman who sees her
vengeance baffled, as well as her love disdained. Her letter was nothing
but a succession of reproaches, menaces, and incoherent execrations. She
taxed him with knavery, insensibility, and dissimulation; imprecated a
thousand curses upon his head, and threatened not only to persecute his
life with all the arts that hell and malice could inspire, but also to
wound him in the person of her daughter-in-law, who should be enclosed
for life in a convent, where she should have leisure to repent of those
loose and disorderly practices which he had taught her to commit, and of
which she could not pretend innocence, as they had it in their power to
confront her with the evidence of her lover's own confession. Yet all
this denunciation was qualified with an alternative, by which he was
given to understand, that the gates of mercy were still open, and that
penitence was capable of washing out the deepest stain of guilt.
Ferdinand read the whole remonstrance with great composure and
moderation, and was content to incur the hazard of her hate, rather than
put her to the trouble of making such an effort of generosity, as would
induce her to forgive the heinous offence he had committed; nor did his
apprehension for Wilhelmina in the least influence his behaviour on this
occasion. So zealous was he for her spiritual concerns, that he would
have been glad to hear she had actually taken the veil; but he knew such
a step was not at all agreeable to her disposition, and that no violence
would be offered to her inclinations on that score, unless her stepmother
should communicate to the father that letter of Fathom's which she had
intercepted, and by which the German would be convinced of his daughter's
backsliding; but this measure, he rightly supposed, the wife would not
venture to take, lest the husband, instead of taking her advice touching
the young lady, should seek to compromise the affair, by offering her in
marriage to her debaucher, a proffer which, if accepted, would overwhelm
the mother with vexation and despair. He therefore chose to trust to the
effects of lenient time, which he hoped would gradually weaken the
resentment of this Penthesilea, and dissolve his connexion with the other
parts of the family, from which he longed to be totally detached.
How well soever he might have succeeded in his attempts to shake off the
yoke of the mother, who by her situation in life was restrained from
prosecuting those measures her resentment had planned against his
fortitude and indifference, he would have found greater difficulty than
he had foreseen, in disengaging himself from the daughter, whose
affections he had won under the most solemn professions of honour and
fidelity, and who, now she was debarred of his company and conversation,
and in danger of losing him for ever, had actually taken the resolution
of disclosing the amour to her father, that he might interpose in behalf
of her peace and reputation, and secure her happiness by the sanction of
the church.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
OUR HERO DEPARTS FROM VIENNA, AND QUITS THE DOMAIN OF VENUS FOR THE ROUGH
FIELD OF MARS.
Luckily for our adventurer, before she adhered to this determination, the
young Count de Melvil was summoned to Presburg by his father, who desired
to see him, before he should take the field, in consequence of a rupture
between the Emperor and the French King; and Fathom of course quitted
Vienna, in order to attend his patron, after he and Renaldo had resided
two whole years in that capital, where the former had made himself
perfect in all the polite exercises, become master of the French tongue,
and learned to speak the Italian with great facility; over and above
those other accomplishments in which we have represented him as an
inimitable original.
As for the young Count, his exteriors were so much improved by the
company to which he had access, since his departure from his father's
house, that his parents were equally surprised and overjoyed at the
alteration. All that awkwardness and rusticity, which hung upon his
deportment, was, like the rough coat of a diamond, polished away; the
connexion and disposition of his limbs seemed to have been adjusted anew;
his carriage was become easy, his air perfectly genteel, and his
conversation gay and unrestrained. The merit of this reformation was in
a great measure ascribed to the care and example of Mr. Fathom, who was
received by the old Count and his lady with marks of singular friendship
and esteem; nor was he overlooked by Mademoiselle, who still remained in
a state of celibacy, and seemed to have resigned all hope of altering her
condition; she expressed uncommon satisfaction at the return of he
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