A FLAGRANT INSTANCE OF FATHOM'S VIRTUE, IN THE MANNER OF HIS RETREAT TO
ENGLAND.
Fathom, who had lent an attentive ear to every circumstance of this
disastrous story, no sooner heard it concluded, than, with an aspect of
generous and cordial compassion, not even unattended with tears, he
condoled the lamentable fate of Don Diego de Zelos, deplored the untimely
death of the gentle Antonia and the fair Serafina, and undertook the
interest of the wretched Castilian with such warmth of sympathising zeal,
as drew a flood from his eyes, while he wrung his benefactor's hand in a
transport of gratitude. Those were literally tears of joy, or at least
of satisfaction, on both sides; as our hero wept with affection and
attachment to the jewels that were to be committed to his care; but, far
from discovering the true source of his tenderness, he affected to
dissuade the Spaniard from parting with the diamonds, which he counselled
him to reserve for a more pressing occasion; and, in the meantime,
earnestly entreated him to depend upon his friendship for present relief.
This generous proffer served only to confirm Don Diego's resolution,
which he forthwith executed, by putting into the hands of Ferdinand
jewels to the value of a thousand crowns, and desiring him to detain for
his own use any part of the sum they would raise. Our adventurer thanked
him for the good opinion he entertained of his integrity, an opinion
fully manifested in honouring him with such important confidence, and
assured him he would transact his affairs with the utmost diligence,
caution, and despatch. The evening being by this time almost consumed,
these new allies retired separately to rest; though each passed the night
without repose, in very different reflections, the Castilian being, as
usual, agitated with the unceasing pangs of his unalterable misery,
interspersed with gleaming hopes of revenge; and Fathom being kept awake
with revolving plans for turning his fellow-lodger's credulity to his own
advantage. From the nature of the Spaniard's situation, he might have
appropriated the jewels to himself, and remained in Paris without fear of
a prosecution, because the injured party had, by the above narrative,
left his life and liberty at discretion.--But he did not think himself
secure from the personal resentment of an enraged desperate Castilian;
and therefore determined to withdraw himself privately into that country
where he had all along proposed to fix the standard of his finesse, which
fortune had now empowered him to exercise according to his wish.
Bent upon this retreat, he went abroad in the morning, on pretence of
acting in the concerns of his friend Don Diego, and having hired a
post-chaise to be ready at the dawning of next day, returned to his
lodgings, where he cajoled the Spaniard with a feigned report of his
negotiation; then, securing his most valuable effects about his person,
arose with the cock, repaired to the place at which he had appointed to
meet the postillion with the carriage, and set out for England without
further delay, leaving the unhappy Zelos to the horrors of indigence, and
the additional agony of this fresh disappointment. Yet he was not the
only person affected by the abrupt departure of Fathom, which was
hastened by the importunities, threats, and reproaches of his landlord's
daughter, whom he had debauched under promise of marriage, and now left
in the fourth month of her pregnancy.
Notwithstanding the dangerous adventure in which he had been formerly
involved by travelling in the night, he did not think proper to make the
usual halts on this journey, for sleep or refreshment, nor did he once
quit the chaise till his arrival at Boulogne, which he reached in twenty
hours after his departure from Paris. Here he thought he might safely
indulge himself with a comfortable meal; accordingly he bespoke a poulard
for dinner, and while that was preparing, went forth to view the city and
harbour. When he beheld the white cliffs of Albion, his heart throbbed
with all the joy of a beloved son, who, after a tedious and fatiguing
voyage, reviews the chimneys of his father's house. He surveyed the
neighbouring coast of England with fond and longing eyes, like another
Moses, reconnoitring the land of Canaan from the top of Mount Pisgah; and
to such a degree of impatience was he inflamed by the sight, that,
instead of proceeding to Calais, he resolved to take his passage directly
from Boulogne, even if he should hire a vessel for the purpose. With
these sentiments, he inquired if there was any ship bound for England,
and was so fortunate as to find the master of a small bark, who intended
to weigh anchor for Deal that same evening at high water.
Transported with this information, he immediately agreed for his passage,
sold the post-chaise to his landlord for thirty guineas, as a piece of
furniture for which he could have no further use, purchased a
portmanteau, together with some linen and wearing apparel, and, at the
recommendation of his host, took into his service an extra postillion or
helper, who had formerly worn the livery of a travelling marquis. This
new domestic, whose name was Maurice, underwent, with great applause, the
examination of our hero, who perceived in him a fund of sagacity and
presence of mind, by which he was excellently qualified for being the
valet of an adventurer. He was therefore accommodated with a second-hand
suit and another shirt, and at once listed under the banners of Count
Fathom, who spent the whole afternoon in giving him proper instructions
for the regulation of his conduct.
Having settled these preliminaries to his own satisfaction, he and his
baggage were embarked about six o'clock in the month of September, and it
was not without emotion that he found himself benighted upon the great
deep, of which, before the preceding day, he had never enjoyed even the
most distant prospect. However, he was not a man to be afraid, where
there was really no appearance of danger; and the agreeable presages of
future fortune supported his spirits, amidst the disagreeable nausea
which commonly attends landsmen at sea, until he was set ashore upon the
beach at Deal, which he entered in good health about seven o'clock in the
morning.
Like Caesar, however, he found some difficulty in landing, on account of
the swelling surf, that tumbled about with such violence as had almost
overset the cutter that carried him on shore; and, in his eagerness to
jump upon the strand, his foot slipped from the side of the boat, so that
he was thrown forwards in an horizontal direction, and his hands were the
first parts of him that touched English ground. Upon this occasion, he,
in imitation of Scipio's behaviour on the coast of Africa, hailed the
omen, and, grasping a handful of the sand, was heard to exclaim, in the
Italian language: "Ah, ah, Old England, I have thee fast."
As he walked up to the inn, followed by Maurice loaded with his
portmanteau, he congratulated himself upon his happy voyage, and the
peaceable possession of his spoil, and could not help snuffing up the
British air with marks of infinite relish and satisfaction. His first
care was to recompense himself for the want of sleep he had undergone,
and, after he had sufficiently recruited himself with several hours of
uninterrupted repose, he set out in a post-chaise for Canterbury, where
he took a place in the London stage, which he was told would depart next
morning, the coach being already full. On this very first day of his
arrival, he perceived between the English and the people among whom he
had hitherto lived, such essential difference in customs, appearance, and
way of living, as inspired him with high notions of that British freedom,
opulence, and convenience, on which he had often heard his mother
expatiate. On the road, he feasted his eyesight with the verdant hills
covered with flocks of sheep, the fruitful vales parcelled out into
cultivated enclosures; the very cattle seemed to profit by the wealth of
their masters, being large, sturdy, and sleek, and every peasant breathed
the insolence of liberty and independence. In a word, he viewed the
wide-extended plains of Kent with a lover's eye, and, his ambition
becoming romantic, could not help fancying himself another conqueror of
the isle.
He was not, however, long amused by these vain chimeras, which soon
vanished before other reflections of more importance and solidity. His
imagination, it must be owned, was at all times too chaste to admit those
overweening hopes, which often mislead the mind of the projector. He had
studied mankind with incredible diligence, and knew perfectly well how
far he could depend on the passions and foibles of human nature. That he
might now act consistent with his former sagacity, he resolved to pass
himself upon his fellow-travellers for a French gentleman, equally a
stranger to the language and country of England, in order to glean from
their discourse such intelligence as might avail him in his future
operations; and his lacquey was tutored accordingly.