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 her 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 her old favourite, and readmitted him into the same degree of
familiarity with which he had been honoured before his departure.
The joy of Teresa was so excessive at his arrival, that she could
scarce suppress her raptures, so as to conceal them from the notice of
the family; and our hero, upon this occasion, performed the part of an
exquisite actor, in dissembling those transports which his bosom never
knew. So well had this pupil retained the lessons of her instructor,
that, in the midst of those fraudulent appropriations, which she still
continued to make, she had found means to support her interest and
character with Mademoiselle, and even to acquire such influence in the
family, that no other servant, male or female, could pretend to live
under the same roof, without paying incessant homage to this artful
waiting-woman, and yielding the most abject submission to her will.
The young gentlemen having tarried at Presburg about six weeks, during
which a small field equipage was prepared for Renaldo, they repaired to
the camp at Heilbron, under the auspices of Count Melvil, in whose
regiment they carried arms as volunteers, with a view to merit
promotion in the service by their own personal behaviour. Our
adventurer would have willingly dispensed with this occasion of
signalising himself, his talents being much better adapted to another
sphere of life; nevertheless, he affected uncommon alacrity at the
prospect of gathering laurels in the field, and subscribed to his
fortune with a good grace; foreseeing, that even in a campaign, a man
of his art and ingenuity might find means to consult his corporal
safety, without any danger to his reputation. Accordingly, before he
had lived full three weeks in camp, the damp situation, and sudden
change in his way of life, had such a violent effect upon his
constitution, that he was deprived of the use of all his limbs, and
mourned, without ceasing, his hard fate, by which he found himself
precluded from all opportunity of exerting his diligence, courage, and
activity, in the character of a soldier, to which he now aspired.
Renaldo, who was actually enamoured of a martial life, and missed no
occasion of distinguishing himself, consoled his companion with great
cordiality, encouraged him with the hope of seeing his constitution
familiarised to the inconveniences of a camp, and accommodated him with
everything which he thought would alleviate the pain of his body, as
well as the anxiety of his mind. The old Count, who sincerely
sympathised with his affliction, would have persuaded him to retire
into quarters, where he could be carefully nursed, and provided with
everything necessary to a person in his condition; but such was his
desire of glory, that he resisted his patron’s importunities with great
constancy, till at length, seeing the old gentleman obstinately
determined to consult his health by removing him from the field, he
gradually suffered himself to recover the use of his hands, made shift
to sit up in his bed, and amuse himself with cards or backgammon, and,
notwithstanding the feeble condition of his legs, ventured to ride out
on horseback to visit the lines, though the Count and his son would
never yield to his solicitations so far, as to let him accompany
Renaldo in those excursions and reconnoitring parties, by which a
volunteer inures himself to toil and peril, and acquires that knowledge
in the operations of war, which qualifies him for a command in the
service.
Notwithstanding this exemption from all duty, our adventurer managed
matters so as to pass for a youth of infinite mettle, and even rendered
his backwardness and timidity subservient to the support of that
character, by expressing an impatience of lying inactive, and a desire
of signalising his prowess, which even the disabled condition of his
body could scarce restrain. He must be a man of very weak nerves and
excessive irresolution, who can live in the midst of actual service,
without imbibing some portion of military fortitude: danger becomes
habitual, and loses a great part of its terror; and as fear is often
caught by contagion, so is courage communicated among the individuals
of an army. The hope of fame, desire of honours and preferment, envy,
emulation, and the dread of disgrace, are motives which co-operate in
suppressing that aversion to death or mutilation, which nature hath
implanted in the human mind; and therefore it is not to be wondered at,
if Fathom, who was naturally chicken-hearted, gained some advantages
over his disposition before the end of the campaign, which happened to
be neither perilous nor severe.
During the winter, while both armies remained in quarters, our
adventurer attended his patron to Presburg, and, before the troops were
in motion, Renaldo obtained a commission, in consequence of which he
went into garrison at Philipsburg, whither he was followed by our hero,
while the old Count’s duty called him to the field in a different
place. Ferdinand for some time had no reason to be dissatisfied with
this disposition, by which he was at once delivered from the fatigues
of a campaign, and the inspection of a severe censor, in the person of
Count Melvil; and his satisfaction was still increased by an accidental
meeting with the Tyrolese who had been his confederate at Vienna, and
now chanced to serve in garrison on the same footing with himself.
These two knights-errant renewed their former correspondence, and, as
all soldiers are addicted to gaming, levied contributions upon all
those officers who had money to lose, and temerity to play.
However, they had not long pursued this branch of traffic, when their
success was interrupted by a very serious occurrence, that for the
present entirely detached the gentlemen in the garrison from such
amusements. The French troops invested Fort Kehl, situated on the
Rhine, opposite to Strasburg; and the Imperialists, dreading that the
next storm would fall upon Philipsburg, employed themselves with great
diligence to put that important fortress in a proper posture of
defence. If the suspension of play was displeasing to our hero, the
expectation of being besieged was by no means more agreeable. He knew
the excellence of the French engineers, the power of their artillery,
and the perseverance of their general. He felt, by anticipation, the
toils of hard duty upon the works, the horrors of night-alarms,
cannonading, bombardment, sallies, and mines blown up; and deliberated
with himself whether or not he should privately withdraw, and take
refuge among the besiegers; but, when he reflected that such a step,
besides the infamy that must attend it, would be like that of running
upon Scylla, seeking to avoid Charybdis, as he would be exposed to more
danger and inconvenience in the trenches than he could possibly undergo
in the town, and after all run the risk of being taken and treated as a
deserter; upon these considerations he resolved to submit himself to
his destiny, and endeavoured to mitigate the rigour of his fate by
those arts he had formerly practised with success. He accordingly found
means to enjoy a very bad state of health during the whole siege, which
lasted about six weeks after the trenches were opened; and then the
garrison marched out by capitulation, with all the honours of war.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HE PUTS HIMSELF UNDER THE GUIDANCE OF HIS ASSOCIATE, AND STUMBLES UPON
THE FRENCH CAMP, WHERE HE FINISHES HIS MILITARY CAREER.
Nothing else of moment was transacted during that campaign; and in the
winter our adventurer, with the young Count, and his friend the
Tyrolese, were disposed in quarters of cantonment, where Ferdinand made
himself amends for the chagrin he had undergone, by the exercise of
those talents in which he excelled. Not that he was satisfied with the
sphere of life in which he acted; though he knew himself consummate in
the art of play, he was not at all ambitious of a gamester’s name; nor
did he find himself disposed to hazard those discoveries and
explanations to which heroes of that class are sometimes necessarily
exposed. His aim was to dwell among the tents of civil life,
undisturbed by quarrels and the din of war, and render mankind
subservient to his interest, not by stratagems which irritate, but by
that suppleness of insinuation, which could not fail to soothe the
temper of those on whom he meant to prey.
He saw that all his expectations of Count Melvil’s future favour were
connected with his choice of a military life; and that his promotion in
the service would, in a great measure, depend upon his personal
behaviour in such emergencies as he did not at all wish to encounter.
On the other hand, he confided so much in his own dexterity and
address, that he never doubted of being able to rear a splendid fortune
for himself, provided he could once obtain a fixed and firm foundation.
He had in fancy often enjoyed a prospect of England, not only as his
native country, to which, like a true citizen, he longed to be united;
but also as the land of promise, flowing with milk and honey, and
abounding with subjects on which he knew his talents would be properly
exercised.
These reflections never occurred, without leaving a strong impression
upon the mind of our adventurer, which influenced his deliberations in
such a manner, as at length amounted to a perfect resolution of
withdrawing himself privately from a service that teemed with
disagreeable events, and of transporting himself into the country of
his ancestors, which he considered as the Canaan of all able
adventurers. But, previous to his appearance on that stage, he was
desirous of visiting the metropolis of France, in which he hoped to
improve himself in the knowledge of men and things, and acquire such
intelligence as would qualify him to act a more important part upon the
British scene. After having for some time indulged these prospects in
secret, he determined to accommodate himself with the company and
experience of the Tyrolese, whom, under the specious title of an
associate, he knew he could convert into a very serviceable tool, in
forwarding the execution of his own projects.
Accordingly, the inclination of this confederate was sounded by distant
hints, and being found apt, our hero made him privy to his design of
decamping without beat of drum; though, at the same time, he begged his
advice touching the method of their departure, that he might retire
with as much delicacy as the nature of such a step would permit. Divers
consultations were held upon this subject, before they adhered to the
resolution of making their escape from the army, after it should have
taken the field in the spring; because, in that case, they would have
frequent opportunities of going abroad on foraging parties, and, during
one of these excursions, might retire in such a manner as to persuade
their companions that they had fallen into the enemy’s hands.
Agreeable to this determination, the camp was no sooner formed in
Alsace than our associates began to make preparations for their march,
and had already taken all the previous measures for their departure,
when an accident happened, which our hero did not fail to convert to
his own advantage. This was no other than the desertion of Renaldo’s
valet, who, in consequence of a gentle chastisement, which he had
richly merited, thought proper to disappear, after having plundered his
master’s portmanteau, which he had forced open for the purpose.
Ferdinand, who was the first person that discovered the theft,
immediately comprehended the whole adventure, and, taking it for
granted that the delinquent would never return, resolved to finish what
the fugitive had imperfectly performed.
Being favoured with the unreserved confidence of the young Count, he
instantly had recourse to his bureau, the locks of which he found means
to burst open, and, examining a private drawer, contrived with great
art to conceal Renaldo’s jewels and cash, made himself master of the
contents without hesitation; then cutting open his cloak-bag, and
strewing the tent with his linen and clothes, began to raise his voice,
and produce such a clamour as alarmed the whole neighbourhood, and
brought a great many officers into the tent.
He on this, as on all other occasions, performed his cue to a miracle,
expressing confusion and concern so naturally in his gestures and
exclamation, that no man could possibly suspect his sincerity; nay, to
such a degree of finesse did his cunning amount, that when his friend
and patron entered, in consequence of an intimation he soon received of
his loss, our adventurer exhibited undoubted signs of distraction and
delirium, and, springing upon Renaldo with all the frantic fury of a
bedlamite, “Villain,” cried he, “restore the effects you have stole
from your master, or you shall be immediately committed to the care of
the prevot.” However mortified M. de Melvil might be at his own
misfortune, the condition of his friend seemed to touch him more
nearly; he undervalued his own loss as a trifle that could be easily
repaired; said everything which he thought would tend to soothe and
compose the agitation of Ferdinand; and finally prevailed upon him to
retire to rest. The calamity was wholly attributed to the deserter; and
Renaldo, far from suspecting the true author, took occasion, from his
behaviour on this emergency, to admire him as a mirror of integrity and
attachment; in such an exquisite manner did he plan all his designs,
that almost every instance of his fraud furnished matter of triumph to
his reputation.
Having thus profitably exercised his genius, this subtle politician
thought it high time to relinquish his military expectations, and
securing all his valuable acquisitions about his own person, rode out
with his understrapper, in the midst of fifty dragoons, who went in
quest of forage. While the troopers were employed in making up their
trusses, the two adventurers advanced towards the skirt of a wood, on
pretence of reconnoitring, and the Tyrolese, who undertook to be our
hero’s guide, directing him to a path which leads towards Strasburg,
they suddenly vanished from the eyes of their companions, who in a few
minutes hearing the report of several pistols, which the confederates
purposely fired, conjectured that they had fallen in with a party of
French, by whom they were made prisoners of war.
The Tyrolese had overrated his own knowledge when he took upon himself
the charge of conducting our hero; for upon their arrival at a certain
place, where two roads crossed each other, he chanced to follow that
which not only frustrated their intention, but even led them directly
to the French camp; so that, in the twilight, they fell in upon one of
the outguards before they were aware of their mistake.
Whatever confusion and perplexity they might undergo, when they heard
themselves questioned by the sentinel on the advanced post, certain it
is, they betrayed no symptoms of fear or disorder; but while Ferdinand
endeavoured to recollect himself, his fellow-traveller, with the
appearance of admirable intrepidity and presence of mind, told the
soldier that he and his companion were two gentlemen of family, who had
quitted the Austrian army, on account of having sustained some
ill-usage, which they had no opportunity of resenting in any other way,
and that they were come to offer their services to the French general,
to whose quarters they desired to be immediately conveyed.
The sentinel, to whom such an instance of desertion was neither rare,
nor indeed uncommon, directed them without scruple to the next post,
where they found a serjeant’s party, from which, at their request, they
were transmitted to the officer of the grand guard, and by him next
morning introduced to Count Coigny, who very politely received them as
volunteers in the army of France. Though this translation was not at
all to our hero’s liking, he was forced to acquiesce in his fate, glad
to find himself, on these terms, in possession of his effects, of which
he would otherwise have been infallibly rifled.
This campaign, however, was the most disagreeable period of his whole
life; because the manner in which he had entered into the service
subjected him to the particular observation and notice of the French
officers; so that he was obliged to be very alert in his duty, and
summon all his fortitude to maintain the character he had assumed. What
rendered his situation still more unpalatable, was the activity of both
armies in the course of this season, during which, over and above
sundry fatiguing marches and countermarches, he was personally engaged
in the affair of Halleh, which was very obstinate; where, being in the
skirts of the detachment, he was actually wounded in the face by the
sword of an hussar; but this was, luckily for him, the last time he
found himself under the necessity of exerting his military prowess, for
a cessation of arms was proclaimed before he was cured of his wound,
and peace concluded about the end of the campaign.
During his sojourn in the French camp, he assumed the character of a
man of family, who being disgusted at some supercilious treatment he
had met with in the German service, and at the same time ambitious of
carrying arms under the banners of France, took the opportunity of
retreating by stealth from his friends, accompanied only by one with
whom he could intrust his intention. In this capacity he had managed
his matters to such advantage, that many French officers of rank were
very well disposed to contribute their interest in his behalf, had his
inclination verged towards promotion in the army; but he thought proper
to conceal his real design, under the specious pretext of longing to
see the metropolis of France, that centre of pleasure and politeness,
in which he proposed to spend some time for the improvement of his
address and understanding. These were motives too laudable to be
opposed by his new patrons, some of whom furnished him with letters of
recommendation to certain noblemen of the first rank at the court of
Versailles, for which place he and his companion set out from the banks
of the Rhine, very well satisfied with the honourable dismission they
had obtained from a life of inconvenience, danger, and alarm.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HE PREPARES A STRATAGEM BUT FINDS HIMSELF COUNTERMINED—PROCEEDS ON HIS
JOURNEY, AND IS OVERTAKEN BY A TERRIBLE TEMPEST.
In the course of this journey, Ferdinand, who was never deficient in
his political capacity, held a secret conclave with his own thoughts,
not only touching the plan of his own future conduct, but also
concerning his associate, of whose fidelity and adherence he began to
entertain such doubts as discouraged him from the prosecution of that
design in which the Tyrolese had been at first included; for he had
lately observed him practise the arts of his occupation among the
French officers, with such rapacity and want of caution, as indicated a
dangerous temerity of temper, as well as a furious rage of acquiring,
which might be some time or other satiated upon his own friends. In
other words, our adventurer was afraid that his accomplice would profit
by his knowledge of the road and countries through which they
travelled, and, after having made free with his most valuable effects,
in consequence of the familiarity subsisting between them, leave him
some morning without the ceremony of a formal adieu.
Aroused by this suspicion, he resolved to anticipate the supposed
intention of the Tyrolese, by taking his own departure in the same
abrupt manner; and this scheme he actually put in execution, upon their
arrival in Bar-le-duc, where it was agreed they should spend a day to
repose and refresh themselves from the fatigue of hard riding.
Ferdinand, therefore, taking the advantage of his companion’s
absence—for the Tyrolese had walked abroad to view the town—found means
to hire a peasant, who undertook to conduct him through a by-road as
far as Chalons, and with his guide he accordingly set out on horseback,
after having discharged the bill, left a blank paper sealed up in form
of a letter, directed to his friend, and secured behind his own saddle
a pair of leathern bags, in which his jewels and cash were usually
contained. So eager was our hero to leave the Tyrolese at a
considerable distance behind, that he rode all night at a round pace
without halting, and next morning found himself at a village distant
thirteen good leagues from any part of the route which he and his
companion had at first resolved to pursue.
Here, thinking himself safely delivered from the cause of all his
apprehension, he determined to lie incognito for a few days, so as that
he might run no risk of an accidental meeting upon the road with the
person whose company he had forsaken; and accordingly took possession
of an apartment, in which he went to rest, desiring his guide to wake
him when dinner should be ready. Having enjoyed a very comfortable
refreshment of sleep, with his bags under his pillow, he was summoned,
according to his direction, and ate a very hearty meal, with great
tranquillity and internal satisfaction. In the afternoon he amused
himself with happy presages and ideal prospects of his future fortune,
and, in the midst of these imaginary banquets, was seized with an
inclination of realising his bliss, and regaling his eyesight with the
fruits of that success which had hitherto attended his endeavours. Thus
inflamed, he opened the repository, and, O reader! what were his
reflections, when, in lieu of Mademoiselle Melvil’s ear-rings and
necklace, the German’s golden chain, divers jewels of considerable
value, the spoils of sundry dupes, and about two hundred ducats in
ready money, he found neither more nor less than a parcel of rusty
nails, disposed in such a manner as to resemble in weight and bulk the
moveables he had lost.
It is not to be supposed our adventurer made this discovery without
emotion. If the eternal salvation of mankind could have been purchased
for the tenth part of his treasure, he would have left the whole
species in a state of reprobation, rather than redeem them at that
price, unless he had seen in the bargain some evident advantage to his
own concerns. One may, therefore, easily conceive with what milkiness
of resignation he bore the loss of the whole, and saw himself reduced
from such affluence to the necessity of depending upon about twenty
ducats, and some loose silver, which he carried in his pocket, for his
expense upon the road. However bitter this pill might be in swallowing,
he so far mastered his mortification, as to digest it with a good
grace. His own penetration at once pointed out the canal through which
this misfortune had flowed upon him; he forthwith placed the calamity
to the account of the Tyrolese, and never doubting that he had retired
with the booty across the Rhine, into some place to which he knew
Fathom would not follow his footsteps, he formed the melancholy
resolution of pursuing with all despatch his journey to Paris, that he
might, with all convenient expedition, indemnify himself for the
discomfiture he had sustained.
With regard to his confederate, his conjecture was perfectly right;
that adventurer, though infinitely inferior to our hero in point of
genius and invention, had manifestly the advantage of him in the
articles of age and experience; he was no stranger to Fathom’s
qualifications, the happy exertion of which he had often seen. He knew
him to be an economist of the most frugal order, consequently concluded
his finances were worthy of examination; and, upon the true principles
of a sharper, eased him of the encumbrance, taking it for granted,
that, in so doing, he only precluded Ferdinand from the power of acting
the same tragedy upon him, should ever opportunity concur with his
inclination. He had therefore concerted his measures with the dexterity
of an experienced conveyancer, and, snatching the occasion, while our
hero, travel-tainted, lay sunk in the arms of profound repose, he
ripped up the seams of the leather depository, withdrew the contents,
introduced the parcel of nails, which he had made up for the purpose,
and then repaired the breach with great deliberation.
Had Fathom’s good genius prompted him to examine his effects next
morning, the Tyrolese, in all probability, would have maintained his
acquisition by force of arms; for his personal courage was rather more
determined than that of our adventurer, and he was conscious of his own
ascendency in this particular; but his good fortune prevented such
explanation. Immediately after dinner, he availed himself of his
knowledge, and, betaking himself to a remote part of the town, set out
in a post-chaise for Luneville, while our hero was meditating his own
escape.
Fathom’s conception was sufficient to comprehend the whole of this
adventure, as soon as his chagrin would give his sagacity fair play;
nor would he allow his resolution to sink under the trial; on the
contrary, he departed from the village that same afternoon, under the
auspices of his conductor, and found himself benighted in the midst of
a forest, far from the habitations of men. The darkness of the night,
the silence and solitude of the place, the indistinct images of the
trees that appeared on every side, “stretching their extravagant arms
athwart the gloom,” conspired, with the dejection of spirits occasioned
by his loss, to disturb his fancy, and raise strange phantoms in his
imagination. Although he was not naturally superstitious, his mind
began to be invaded with an awful horror, that gradually prevailed over
all the consolations of reason and philosophy; nor was his heart free
from the terrors of assassination. In order to dissipate these
disagreeable reveries, he had recourse to the conversation of his
guide, by whom he was entertained with the history of divers travellers
who had been robbed and murdered by ruffians, whose retreat was in the
recesses of that very wood.
In the midst of this communication, which did not at all tend to the
elevation of our hero’s spirits, the conductor made an excuse for
dropping behind, while our traveller jogged on in expectation of being
joined again by him in a few minutes. He was, however, disappointed in
that hope; the sound of the other horse’s feet by degrees grew more and
more faint, and at last altogether died away. Alarmed at this
circumstance, Fathom halted in the middle of the road, and listened
with the most fearful attention; but his sense of hearing was saluted
with nought but the dismal sighings of the trees, that seemed to
foretell an approaching storm. Accordingly, the heavens contracted a
more dreary aspect, the lightning began to gleam, and the thunder to
roll, and the tempest, raising its voice to a tremendous roar,
descended in a torrent of rain.
In this emergency, the fortitude of our hero was almost quite overcome.
So many concurring circumstances of danger and distress might have
appalled the most undaunted breast; what impression then must they have
made upon the mind of Ferdinand, who was by no means a man to set fear
at defiance! Indeed, he had well-nigh lost the use of his reflection,
and was actually invaded to the skin, before he could recollect himself
so far as to quit the road, and seek for shelter among the thickets
that surrounded him. Having rode some furlongs into the forest, he took
his station under a tuft of tall trees, that screened him from the
storm, and in that situation called a council within himself, to
deliberate upon his next excursion. He persuaded himself that his guide
had deserted him for the present, in order to give intelligence of a
traveller to some gang of robbers with whom he was connected; and that
he must of necessity fall a prey to those banditti, unless he should
have the good fortune to elude their search, and disentangle himself
from the mazes of the wood.
Harrowed with these apprehensions, he resolved to commit himself to the
mercy of the hurricane, as of two evils the least, and penetrate
straightforwards through some devious opening, until he should be
delivered from the forest. For this purpose he turned his horse’s head
in a line quite contrary to the direction of the high road which he had
left, on the supposition that the robbers would pursue that track in
quest of him, and that they would never dream of his deserting the
highway, to traverse an unknown forest, amidst the darkness of such a
boisterous night. After he had continued in this progress through a
succession of groves, and bogs, and thorns, and brakes, by which not
only his clothes, but also his skin suffered in a grievous manner,
while every nerve quivered with eagerness and dismay, he at length
reached an open plain, and pursuing his course, in full hope of
arriving at some village, where his life would be safe, he descried a
rush-light at a distance, which he looked upon as the star of his good
fortune, and riding towards it at full speed, arrived at the door of a
lone cottage, into which he was admitted by an old woman, who,
understanding he was a bewildered traveller, received him with great
hospitality.
When he learned from his hostess, that there was not another house
within three leagues; that she could accommodate him with a tolerable
bed, and his horse with lodging and oats, he thanked Heaven for his
good fortune, in stumbling upon this homely habitation, and determined
to pass the night under the protection of the old cottager, who gave
him to understand, that her husband, who was a faggot-maker, had gone
to the next town to dispose of his merchandise; and that, in all
probability, he would not return till next morning, on account of the
tempestuous night. Ferdinand sounded the beldame with a thousand artful
interrogations, and she answered with such appearance of truth and
simplicity, that he concluded his person was quite secure; and, after
having been regaled with a dish of eggs and bacon, desired she would
conduct him into the chamber where she proposed he should take his
repose. He was accordingly ushered up by a sort of ladder into an
apartment furnished with a standing-bed, and almost half filled with
trusses of straw. He seemed extremely well pleased with his lodging,
which in reality exceeded his expectation; and his kind landlady,
cautioning him against letting the candle approach the combustibles,
took her leave, and locked the door on the outside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
HE FALLS UPON SCYLLA, SEEKING TO AVOID CHARYBDIS.
Fathom, whose own principles taught him to be suspicious, and ever upon
his guard against the treachery of his fellow-creatures, could have
dispensed with this instance of her care, in confining her guest to her
chamber, and began to be seized with strange fancies, when he observed
that there was no bolt on the inside of the door, by which he might
secure himself from intrusion. In consequence of these suggestions, he
proposed to take an accurate survey of every object in the apartment,
and, in the course of his inquiry, had the mortification to find the
dead body of a man, still warm, who had been lately stabbed, and
concealed beneath several bundles of straw.
Such a discovery could not fail to fill the breast of our hero with
unspeakable horror; for he concluded that he himself would undergo the
same fate before morning, without the interposition of a miracle in his
favour. In the first transports of his dread, he ran to the window,
with a view to escape by that outlet, and found his flight effectually
obstructed by divers strong bars of iron. Then his heart began to
palpitate, his hair to bristle up, and his knees to totter; his
thoughts teemed with presages of death and destruction; his conscience
rose up in judgment against him, and he underwent a severe paroxysm of
dismay and distraction. His spirits were agitated into a state of
fermentation that produced a species of resolution akin to that which
is inspired by brandy or other strong liquors, and, by an impulse that
seemed supernatural, he was immediately hurried into measures for his
own preservation.
What upon a less interesting occasion his imagination durst not
propose, he now executed without scruple or remorse. He undressed the
corpse that lay bleeding among the straw, and, conveying it to the bed
in his arms, deposited it in the attitude of a person who sleeps at his
ease; then he extinguished the light, took possession of the place from
whence the body had been removed, and, holding a pistol ready cocked in
each hand, waited for the sequel with that determined purpose which is
often the immediate production of despair. About midnight he heard the
sound of feet ascending the ladder; the door was softly opened; he saw
the shadow of two men stalking towards the bed, a dark lanthorn being
unshrouded, directed their aim to the supposed sleeper, and he that
held it thrust a poniard to his heart; the force of the blow made a
compression on the chest, and a sort of groan issued from the windpipe
of the defunct; the stroke was repeated, without producing a repetition
of the note, so that the assassins concluded the work was effectually
done, and retired for the present with a design to return and rifle the
deceased at their leisure.
Never had our hero spent a moment in such agony as he felt during this
operation; the whole surface of his body was covered with a cold sweat,
and his nerves were relaxed with an universal palsy. In short, he
remained in a trance that, in all probability, contributed to his
safety; for, had he retained the use of his senses, he might have been
discovered by the transports of his fear. The first use he made of his
retrieved recollection, was to perceive that the assassins had left the
door open in their retreat; and he would have instantly availed himself
of this their neglect, by sallying out upon them, at the hazard of his
life, had he not been restrained by a conversation he overheard in the
room below, importing, that the ruffians were going to set out upon
another expedition, in hopes of finding more prey. They accordingly
departed, after having laid strong injunctions upon the old woman to
keep the door fast locked during their absence; and Ferdinand took his
resolution without farther delay. So soon as, by his conjecture, the
robbers were at a sufficient distance from the house, he rose from his
lurking-place, moved softly towards the bed, and, rummaging the pockets
of the deceased, found a purse well stored with ducats, of which,
together with a silver watch and a diamond ring, he immediately
possessed himself without scruple; then, descending with great care and
circumspection into the lower apartment, stood before the old beldame,
before she had the least intimation of his approach.
Accustomed as she was to the trade of blood, the hoary hag did not
behold this apparition without giving signs of infinite terror and
astonishment, believing it was no other than the spirit of her second
guest, who had been murdered; she fell upon her knees and began to
recommend herself to the protection of the saints, crossing herself
with as much devotion as if she had been entitled to the particular
care and attention of Heaven. Nor did her anxiety abate, when she was
undeceived in this her supposition, and understood it was no phantom,
but the real substance of the stranger, who, without staying to upbraid
her with the enormity of her crimes, commanded her, on pain of
immediate death, to produce his horse, to which being conducted, he set
her upon the saddle without delay, and, mounting behind, invested her
with the management of the reins, swearing, in a most peremptory tone,
that the only chance she had for her life, was in directing him safely
to the next town; and that, so soon as she should give him the least
cause to doubt her fidelity in the performance of that task, he would
on the instant act the part of her executioner.
This declaration had its effect upon the withered Hecate, who, with
many supplications for mercy and forgiveness, promised to guide him in
safety to a certain village at the distance of two leagues, where he
might lodge in security, and be provided with a fresh horse, or other
convenience, for pursuing his intended route. On these conditions he
told her she might deserve his clemency; and they accordingly took
their departure together, she being placed astride upon the saddle,
holding the bridle in one hand and a switch in the other; and our
adventurer sitting on the crupper, superintending her conduct, and
keeping the muzzle of a pistol close at her ear. In this equipage they
travelled across part of the same wood in which his guide had forsaken
him; and it is not to be supposed that he passed his time in the most
agreeable reverie, while he found himself involved in the labyrinth of
those shades, which he considered as the haunts of robbery and
assassination.
Common fear was a comfortable sensation to what he felt in this
excursion. The first steps he had taken for his preservation were the
effects of mere instinct, while his faculties were extinguished or
suppressed by despair; but now, as his reflection began to recur, he
was haunted by the most intolerable apprehensions. Every whisper of the
wind through the thickets was swelled into the hoarse menaces of
murder, the shaking of the boughs was construed into the brandishing of
poniards, and every shadow of a tree became the apparition of a ruffian
eager for blood. In short, at each of these occurrences he felt what
was infinitely more tormenting than the stab of a real dagger; and at
every fresh fillip of his fear, he acted as a remembrancer to his
conductress, in a new volley of imprecations, importing, that her life
was absolutely connected with his opinion of his own safety.
Human nature could not longer subsist under such complicated terror. At
last he found himself clear of the forest, and was blessed with the
distant view of an inhabited place. He then began to exercise his
thoughts upon a new subject. He debated with himself, whether he should
make a parade of his intrepidity and public spirit, by disclosing his
achievement, and surrendering his guide to the penalty of the law; or
leave the old hag and her accomplices to the remorse of their own
consciences, and proceed quietly on his journey to Paris in undisturbed
possession of the prize he had already obtained. This last step he
determined to take, upon recollecting, that, in the course of his
information, the story of the murdered stranger would infallibly
attract the attention of justice, and, in that case, the effects he had
borrowed from the defunct must be refunded for the benefit of those who
had a right to the succession. This was an argument which our
adventurer could not resist; he foresaw that he should be stripped of
his acquisition, which he looked upon as the fair fruits of his valour
and sagacity; and, moreover, be detained as an evidence against the
robbers, to the manifest detriment of his affairs. Perhaps too he had
motives of conscience, that dissuaded him from bearing witness against
a set of people whose principles did not much differ from his own.