HE ARRIVES AT PARIS, AND IS PLEASED WITH HIS RECEPTION.

He was not so smitten with the delightful situation of this ancient town,

but that he abandoned it as soon as he could procure a post-chaise, in

which he arrived at Paris, without having been exposed to any other

troublesome adventure upon the road. He took lodgings at a certain hotel

in the Fauxbourg de St. Germain, which is the general rendezvous of all

the strangers that resort to this capital; and now sincerely

congratulated himself upon his happy escape from his Hungarian

connexions, and from the snares of the banditti, as well as upon the

spoils of the dead body, and his arrival at Paris, from whence there was

such a short conveyance to England, whither he was attracted, by far

other motives than that of filial veneration for his native soil.

He suppressed all his letters of recommendation, which he justly

concluded would subject him to a tedious course of attendance upon the

great, and lay him under the necessity of soliciting preferment in the

army, than which nothing was farther from his inclination; and resolved

to make his appearance in the character of a private gentleman, which

would supply him with opportunities of examining the different scenes of

life in such a gay metropolis, so as that he should be able to choose

that sphere in which he could move the most effectually to his own

advantage. He accordingly hired an occasional domestic, and under the

denomination of Count Fathom, which he had retained since his elopement

from Renaldo, repaired to dinner at an ordinary, to which he was directed

as a reputable place, frequented by fashionable strangers of all nations.

He found this piece of information perfectly just; for he no sooner

entered the apartment, than his ears were saluted with a strange

confusion of sounds, among which he at once distinguished the High and

Low Dutch, barbarous French, Italian, and English languages. He was

rejoiced at this occasion of displaying his own qualifications, took his

place at one of the three long tables, betwixt a Westphalian count and a

Bolognian marquis, insinuated himself into the conversation with his

usual address, and in less than half an hour, found means to accost a

native of each different country in his own mother-tongue.

Such extensive knowledge did not pass unobserved. A French abbe, in a

provincial dialect, complimented him upon his retaining that purity in

pronunciation, which is not to be found in the speech of a Parisian. The

Bolognian, mistaking him for a Tuscan, "Sir," said he, "I presume you are

from Florence. I hope the illustrious house of Lorrain leaves you

gentlemen of that famous city no room to regret the loss of your own

princes." The castle of Versailles becoming the subject of conversation,

Monsieur le Compte appealed to him, as to a native German, whether it was

not inferior in point of magnificence to the chateau of Grubenhagen. The

Dutch officer, addressing himself to Fathom, drank to the prosperity of

Faderland, and asked if he had not once served in garrison at

Shenkenschans; and an English knight swore, with great assurance, that he

had frequently rambled with him at midnight among the hundreds of Drury.

To each person he replied in a polite, though mysterious manner, which

did not fail to enhance their opinion of his good breeding and

importance; and, long before the dessert appeared, he was by all the

company supposed to be a personage of great consequence, who for some

substantial reasons, found it convenient to keep himself incognito. This

being the case, it is not to be doubted that particular civilities were

poured upon him from all quarters. He perceived their sentiments, and

encouraged them, by behaving with that sort of complaisance which seems

to be the result of engaging condescension in a character of superior

dignity and station. His affability was general but his chief attention

limited to those gentlemen already mentioned, who chanced to sit nearest

him at table; and he no sooner gave them to understand that he was an

utter stranger in Paris, than they unanimously begged to have the honour

of making him acquainted with the different curiosities peculiar to that

metropolis.

He accepted of their hospitality, accompanied them to a coffee-house in

the afternoon, from whence they repaired to the opera, and afterwards

adjourned to a noted hotel, in order to spend the remaining part of the

evening. It was here that our hero secured himself effectually in the

footing he had gained in their good graces. He in a moment saw through

all the characters of the party, and adapted himself to the humour of

each individual, without descending from that elevation of behaviour

which he perceived would operate among them in his behalf. With the

Italian he discoursed on music, in the style of a connoisseur; and indeed

had a better claim to that title than the generality of those upon whom

it is usually conferred; for he understood the art in theory as well as

in practice, and would have made no contemptible figure among the best

performers of the age.

He harangued upon taste and genius to the abbe, who was a wit and critic,

ex officio, or rather ex vestitu for a young pert Frenchman, the very

moment he puts on the petit collet, or little band, looks upon himself as

an inspired son of Apollo; and every one of the fraternity thinks it

incumbent upon him to assert the divinity of his mission. In a word, the

abbes are a set of people that bear a strong analogy to the templars in

London. Fools of each fabric, sharpers of all sorts, and dunces of every

degree, profess themselves of both orders. The templar is, generally

speaking, a prig, so is the abbe: both are distinguished by an air of

petulance and self-conceit, which holds a middle rank betwixt the

insolence of a first-rate buck and the learned pride of a supercilious

pedant. The abbe is supposed to be a younger brother in quest of

preferment in the church--the Temple is considered as a receptacle or

seminary for younger sons intended for the bar; but a great number of

each profession turn aside into other paths of life, long before they

reach these proposed goals. An abbe is often metamorphosed into a foot

soldier; a templar sometimes sinks into an attorney's clerk. The galleys

of France abound with abbes; and many templars may be found in our

American plantations; not to mention those who have made a public exit

nearer home. Yet I would not have it thought that my description

includes every individual of those societies. Some of the greatest

scholars, politicians, and wits, that ever Europe produced, have worn the

habit of an abbe; and many of our most noble families in England derive

their honours from those who have studied law in the Temple. The worthy

sons of every community shall always be sacred from my censure and

ridicule; and, while I laugh at the folly of particular members, I can

still honour and revere the institution.

But let us return from this comparison, which some readers may think

impertinent and unseasonable, and observe, that the Westphalian count,

Dutch officer, and English knight, were not excepted from the particular

regard and attention of our adventurer. He pledged the German in every

bumper; flattered the Hollander with compliments upon the industry,

wealth, and policy of the Seven United Provinces; but he reserved his

chief battery for his own countryman, on the supposition that he was, in

all respects, the best adapted for the purposes of a needy gamester.

Him, therefore, he cultivated with extraordinary care and singular

observance; for he soon perceived him to be a humourist, and, from that

circumstance, derived an happy presage of his own success. The baronet's

disposition seemed to be cast in the true English mould. He was sour,

silent, and contemptuous; his very looks indicated a consciousness of

superior wealth; and he never opened his mouth, except to make some dry,

sarcastic, national reflection. Nor was his behaviour free from that air

of suspicion which a man puts on when he believes himself in a crowd of

pick-pockets, whom his caution and vigilance set at defiance. In a word,

though his tongue was silent on the subject, his whole demeanour was

continually saying, "You are all a pack of poor lousy rascals, who have a

design upon my purse. 'Tis true, I could buy your whole generation, but

I won't be bubbled, d'ye see; I am aware of your flattery, and upon my

guard against all your knavish pranks; and I come into your company for

my own amusement only."

Fathom having reconnoitred this peculiarity of temper, instead of

treating him with that assiduous complaisance, which he received from the

other gentlemen of the party, kept aloof from him in the conversation,

with a remarkable shyness of distant civility, and seldom took notice of

what he said, except with a view to contradict him, or retort some of his

satirical observations. This he conceived to be the best method of

acquiring his good opinion; because the Englishman would naturally

conclude he was a person who could have no sinister views upon his

fortune, else he would have chosen quite a different manner of

deportment. Accordingly, the knight seemed to bite at the hook. He

listened to Ferdinand with uncommon regard; he was even heard to commend

his remarks, and at length drank to their better acquaintance.

The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Volume 01 · 第 43 / 66 题