Israel, they betook themselves to the house of a rich Jew, whose wealth
they considered as a proof of his rapaciousness; and, being admitted
into his counting-house, they found him in the midst of half a dozen
clerks, when Renaldo, in his imagination, likened him unto a minister
of darkness surrounded by his familiars, and planning schemes of misery
to be executed upon the hapless sons of men. In spite of these
suggestions, which were not at all mitigated by the forbidding aspect
of the Hebrew, he demanded a private audience; and, being ushered into
another apartment, he explained his business with manifest marks of
disorder and affliction. Indeed, his confusion was in some measure
owing to the looks of the Jew, who, in the midst of this exordium,
pulled down his eyebrows, which were surprisingly black and bushy, so
as, in appearance, totally to extinguish his visage, though he was all
the time observing our youth from behind those almost impenetrable
thickets.
Melvil, having signified his request, “Young gentleman,” said the
Israelite, with a most discordant voice, “what in the name of goodness
could induce you to come to me upon such an errand? Did you ever hear
that I lent money to strangers without security?” “No,” replied
Renaldo, “nor did I believe I should profit by my application; but my
affairs are desperate; and my proposals having been rejected by every
Christian to whom they were offered, I was resolved to try my fate
among the Jews, who are reckoned another species of men.”
Fathom, alarmed at this abrupt reply, which he supposed could not fail
to disgust the merchant, interposed in the conversation, by making an
apology for the plain dealing of his friend, who, he said, was soured
and ruffled by his misfortunes; then exerting that power of eloquence
which he had at command, he expostulated upon Renaldo’s claim and
expectations, described the wrongs he had suffered, extolled his
virtue, and drew a most pathetic picture of his distress.
The Jew listened attentively for some time; then his eyebrows began to
rise and fall alternately; he coughed, sneezed, and winking hard, “I’m
plagued,” said he, “with a salt rheum that trickles from my eyes
without intermission.” So saying, he wiped the moisture from his face,
and proceeded in these words: “Sir, your story is plausible; and your
friend is a good advocate; but before I give an answer to your demand,
I must beg leave to ask if you can produce undeniable evidence of your
being the identical person you really assume? If you are really the
Count de Melvil, you will excuse my caution. We cannot be too much on
our guard against fraud; though I must own you have not the air of an
impostor.”
Renaldo’s eyes began to sparkle at this preliminary question; to which
he replied, that he could procure the testimony of the Emperor’s
minister, to whom he had occasionally paid his respects since his first
arrival in England.
“If that be the case,” said the Jew, “take the trouble to call here
to-morrow morning, at eight o’clock, and I will carry you in my own
coach to the house of his excellency, with whom I have the honour to be
acquainted; and, if he has nothing to object against your character or
pretensions, I will contribute my assistance towards your obtaining
justice at the Imperial court.”
The Hungarian was so much confounded at this unexpected reception, that
he had not power to thank the merchant for his promised favour, but
stood motionless and silent, while the streams of emotion of the heart
was of more weight with the Jew, than the eloquent acknowledgment which
Ferdinand took the opportunity of making for his friend; and he was
fain to dismiss them a little abruptly, in order to prevent a second
discharge of that same rheum of which he had already complained.
Melvil recollected all that had happened as a dream, which had no
foundation in truth, and was all day long in a sort of delirium,
produced by the alternate gusts of hope and fear that still agitated
his bosom; for he was not yet without apprehension of being again
disappointed by some unlucky occurrence.
He did not, however, fail to be punctual to the hour of his
appointment, when the Jew told him, there would be no occasion for
visiting the ambassador, because Renaldo had been, the preceding day,
recognised by one of the clerks who had been employed as a purveyor in
the Imperial army; and who, knowing his family, confirmed everything he
had alleged. “After breakfast,” continued this benevolent Israelite, “I
will give you an order upon my banker for five hundred pounds, that you
may be enabled to appear at Vienna as the son and representative of
Count Melvil; and you shall also be furnished with a letter of
recommendation to a person of some influence at that court, whose
friendship and countenance may be of some service to your suit; for I
am now heartily engaged in your interest, in consequence of the fair
and unblemished character which I find you have hitherto maintained.”
The reader must appeal to his own heart, to acquire a just idea of
Renaldo’s feelings, when every tittle of these promises was fulfilled,
and the merchant refused to take one farthing by way of premium,
contenting himself with the slender security of a personal bond. He
was, in truth, overwhelmed with the obligation, and certainly disposed
to believe that his benefactor was something more than human. As for
Fathom, his sentiments took a different turn; and he scrupled not to
impute all this kindness to some deep-laid interested scheme, the scope
of which he could not at present comprehend.
After the tumults of the young gentleman’s joy had subsided, and he
found himself eased of that burdensome poverty under which he had
groaned so long, his thoughts, which before were dissipated upon the
various circumstances of distress, began to collect themselves in a
body, and to resume their deliberations upon a subject which they had
been long accustomed to consider; this was no other than the forlorn
Monimia, whose idea now emerged in his bosom, being disencumbered of
one part of the load by which it had been depressed. He mentioned her
name to Fathom with marks of the most melting compassion, deplored her
apostasy, and, while he protested that he had divorced her for ever
from his heart, expressed an inclination to see her once more before
his departure, that he might in person exhort her to penitence and
reformation.
Our adventurer, who dreaded such an interview as the infallible means
of his own ruin, resisted the proposal with the whole power of his
elocution. He affirmed, that Renaldo’s desire was a manifest proof that
he still retained part of the fatal poison which that enchantress had
spread within his veins; and that the sight of her, softened by his
reproaches into tears and affected contrition, would dispel his
resentment, disable his manhood, and blow the embers of his former
passion to such a rage, as would hurry him on to a reconciliation,
which would debase his honour, and ruin his future peace. In a word,
Ferdinand described the danger that would attend the meeting in such
emphatic terms, that the Hungarian started with horror at the picture
which he drew, and in this particular conformed with the admonition of
his friend.
One hundred pounds of the Jew’s money was immediately appropriated for
the payment of his most urgent debts; the like sum he presented to his
friend Fathom, with a solemn promise of sharing with him whatever good
fortune might await him in Germany. And though Monimia had forfeited
all title to his regard, so ill could he bear the prospect of her
distress, that he entrusted his dear companion with the half of what
remained, to be expended for her use, fully resolving to screen her
from the shocks and temptations of want, as the circumstances of his
future fate would allow.
Fathom, far from opposing, applauded his generosity with marks of
extreme wonder and admiration, assuring him, that she should be put in
possession of his bounty immediately after his departure, he being
unwilling to make her acquainted with her good fortune before that
period, lest, finding his affairs in a fair way of being retrieved, she
should be base enough to worship his returning prosperity, and, by
false professions, and artful blandishments, seek to ensnare his heart
anew.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
COUNT FATHOM UNMASKS HIS BATTERY; IS REPULSED; AND VARIES HIS
OPERATIONS WITHOUT EFFECT.
Every necessary preparation being made, Renaldo, accompanied by our
adventurer, took the road to Dover, where he embarked in a packet-boat
for Calais, after having settled a correspondence with his dear
Ferdinand, from whom he did not part without tears. He had before
solicited him to be his fellow-traveller, that he might personally
enjoy the benefit of his conversation and superior sagacity; but these
entreaties he strenuously opposed, on pretence of his being determined
to push his fortune in England, which he considered as his native
country, and as the land in which, of all others, a man of merit has
the best encouragement. Such were the reasons he alleged for refusing
to attend his benefactor, who was himself eagerly desirous of attaining
a settlement in the island of Great Britain. But our hero’s real
motives for staying were of a very different complexion.—The reader is
already informed of his aim upon the fair orphan, which, at present,
was the chief spring of his conduct. He may also recollect such
passages of his life, as were sufficient to deter him from reappearing
at Presburg or Vienna. But, besides these reflections, he was detained
by a full persuasion that Renaldo would sink under the power and
influence of his antagonist, consequently be rendered incapable to
provide for his friends; and that he himself, fraught with wiles and
experience as he was, could not fail to make himself amends for what he
had suffered among a people equally rich and unthinking.
Melvil, having embraced our adventurer, and with a deep sigh bid him
take care of the unfortunate Monimia, committed himself to the sea,
and, by the assistance of a favourable gale, was in four hours safely
landed on the French shore; while Fathom took post-horses for London,
where he arrived that same night, and next day, in the forenoon, went
to visit the beauteous mourner, who had as yet received no intimation
of Renaldo’s departure or design. He found her in the attitude of
writing a letter to her inconstant lover, the contents of which the
reader will be acquainted with in due time. Her countenance,
notwithstanding the veil of melancholy by which it was overcast, seemed
altogether serene and composed; she was the picture of pious
resignation, and sat like PATIENCE on a monument, smiling at grief.
After having paid the compliment of the morning, Fathom begged pardon
for having omitted to visit her during three days, in which, he said,
his time had been wholly engrossed in procuring a proper equipage for
Count Melvil, who had at last bid an eternal adieu to the island of
Great Britain.
At this information the hapless Monimia fell back in her chair, and
continued some minutes in a swoon; from which being recovered, “Excuse
me, Mr. Fathom,” cried she with a deep sigh; “this, I hope, is the last
agony I shall feel from my unhappy passion.”—Then wiping the tears from
her lovely eyes, she retrieved her tranquillity, and desired to know by
what means Renaldo had been enabled to undertake his journey into the
empire. Our hero, upon this occasion, assumed the whole merit of having
promoted the interest of his friend, by giving her to understand, that
he, in consequence of an unforeseen windfall, had defrayed the expense
of the Count’s equipment; though he observed, that it was not without
reluctance he saw Renaldo make a wrong use of his friendship.
“Although I was happy,” proceeded this artful traitor, “in being able
to discharge my obligations to the house of Melvil, I could not help
feeling the most sensible chagrin, when I saw my assistance rendered
subservient to the triumphs of the youth’s baseness and infidelity; for
he chose, as the companion of his travels, the abandoned woman for whom
he had forsaken the all-perfect Monimia, whose virtue and
accomplishments did not preserve her sacred from his ungrateful
sarcasms and unmannerly ridicule. Believe me, madam, I was so shocked
at his conversation on that subject, and so much incensed at his want
of delicacy, that my temper was scarce sufficient for the ceremony of
parting. And, now that my debt to his family is over-paid, I have
solemnly renounced his correspondence.”
When she heard that, instead of betraying the least symptom of regret
or compassion for her unhappy fate, the perfidious youth had exulted
over her fall, and even made her a subject for his mirth, the blood
revisited her faded cheeks, and resentment restored to her eyes that
poignancy which sorrow had before overcome. Yet she scorned to give
speech to her indignation; but, forcing a smile, “Why should I repine,”
said she, “at the mortifications of a life which I despise, and from
which, I hope, Heaven speedily will set me free!”
Fathom, fired by her emotion, which had recalled all the graces of her
beauty, exclaimed in a rapture, “Talk not so contemptuously of this
life, which hath still a fund of happiness in store for the amiable,
the divine Monimia. Though one admirer hath proved an apostate to his
vows, your candour will not suffer you to condemn the whole sex. Some
there are, whose bosoms glow with passion equally pure, unalterable,
and intense. For my own part, I have sacrificed to a rigid punctilio of
honour the dearest ideas of my heart. I beheld your unrivalled charms,
and deeply felt their power. Yet, while a possibility of Melvil’s
reformation remained, and while I was restrained by my niggard fortune
from making a tender worthy of your acceptance, I combated with my
inclinations, and bore without repining the pangs of hopeless love.
But, now that my honour is disengaged, and my fortune rendered
independent, by the last will of a worthy nobleman, whose friendship I
was favoured with in France, I presume to lay myself at the feet of the
adorable Monimia, as the most faithful of admirers, whose happiness or
misery wholly depends upon her nod. Believe me, madam, these are not
the professions of idle gallantry—I speak the genuine, though
imperfect, language of my heart. Words, even the most pathetic, cannot
do justice to my love. I gaze upon your beauty with ravishment; but I
contemplate the graces of your soul with such awful veneration, that I
tremble while I approach you, as if my vows were addressed to some
superior being.”
During this declaration, which was pronounced in the most emphatic
manner, Monimia was successively agitated with shame, anger, and grief;
nevertheless, she summoned her whole philosophy to her aid, and, with a
tranquil, though determined air, begged he would not diminish the
obligations he had already conferred, by disturbing with such
unseasonable addresses a poor unhappy maid, who had detached all her
thoughts from earthly objects, and waited impatiently for that
dissolution which alone could put a period to her misfortunes.
Fathom, imagining that these were no other than the suggestions of a
temporary disappointment and despondence, which it was his business to
oppose with all his eloquence and art, renewed his theme with redoubled
ardour, and, at last, became so importunate in his desires, that
Monimia, provoked beyond the power of concealing her resentment, said,
she was heartily sorry to find herself under the necessity of telling
him, that, in the midst of her misfortunes, she could not help
remembering what she had been. Then, rising from her seat, with all the
dignity of displeasure, “Perhaps,” added she, “you have forgot who was
the father of the once happy Monimia.”
With these words she retired into another chamber, leaving our
adventurer confounded by the repulse he had sustained. Not that he was
discouraged from prosecuting his aim—on the contrary, this rebuff
seemed to add fresh vigour to his operations. He now thought it high
time to bring over Madam la Mer to his interest; and, to facilitate her
conversion, took an opportunity of bribing her with some inconsiderable
presents, after having amused her with a plausible tale of his passion
for Monimia, with whom she undertook the office of his mediatrix, on
the supposition that his intentions were honourable, and highly
advantageous to her lodger.
She was, first of all, invested with the office of obtaining pardon for
the offence he had given; and, in this negotiation she succeeded so
well, as to become an advocate for his suit; accordingly, she took all
occasions of magnifying his praise. His agreeable person was often the
subject of her discourse to the fair mourner. Her admiration dwelt upon
his politeness, good sense, and winning deportment; and she every day
retailed little stories of his benevolence and greatness of soul. The
defect in his birth she represented as a circumstance altogether
foreign from the consideration of his merit; especially in a nation
where such distinctions are as little respected as they will be in a
future state. She mentioned several persons of note, who basked in the
sunshine of power and fortune, without having enjoyed the least
hereditary assistance from their forefathers. One, she said, sprung
from the loins of an obscure attorney; another was the grandson of a
valet-de-chambre; a third was the issue of an accountant; and a fourth
the offspring of a woollen draper. All these were the children of their
own good works, and had raised themselves upon their personal virtues
and address; a foundation certainly more solid and honourable than a
vague inheritance derived from ancestors, in whose deserts they could
not be supposed to have borne the least share.
Monimia listened to all these arguments with great patience and
affability, though she at once dived into the source from which all
such insinuations flowed. She joined in the commendations of Fathom,
and owned herself a particular instance of that benevolence which the
old lady had so justly extolled; but, once for all, to prevent the
supplication which Madam la Mer was about to make, she solemnly
protested that her heart was altogether shut against any other earthly
engagement, and that her thoughts were altogether employed upon her
eternal salvation.
The assiduous landlady, perceiving the steadiness of her disposition,
thought proper to alter her method of proceeding, and, for the present,
suspended that theme by which she found her fair lodger disobliged.
Resolved to reconcile Monimia to life, before she would again recommend
Ferdinand to her love, she endeavoured to amuse her imagination, by
recounting the occasional incidents of the day, hoping gradually to
decoy her attention to those sublunary objects from which it had been
industriously weaned. She seasoned her conversation with agreeable
sallies; enlarged upon the different scenes of pleasure and diversion
appertaining to this great metropolis; practised upon her palate with
the delicacies of eating; endeavoured to shake her temperance with
repeated proffers and recommendations of certain cordials and
restoratives, which she alleged were necessary for the recovery of her
health; and pressed her to make little excursions into the fields that
skirt the town, for the benefit of air and exercise.
While this auxiliary plied the disconsolate Monimia on one hand, Fathom
was not remiss on the other. He now seemed to have sacrificed his
passion to her quiet; his discourse turned upon more indifferent
subjects. He endeavoured to dispel her melancholy with arguments drawn
from philosophy and religion. On some occasions, he displayed all his
fund of good humour, with a view to beguile her sorrow; he importuned
her to give him the pleasure of squiring her to some place of innocent
entertainment; and, finally, insisted upon her accepting a pecuniary
reinforcement to her finances, which he knew to be in a most
consumptive condition.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
MONIMIA’S HONOUR IS PROTECTED BY THE INTERPOSITION OF HEAVEN.
With that complacency and fortitude which were peculiar to herself,
this hapless stranger resisted all those artful temptations. Her
sustenance was barely such as exempted her from the guilt of being
accessory to her own death; her drink was the simple element. She
encouraged no discourse but that which turned upon the concerns of her
immortal part. She never went abroad, except in visits to a French
chapel in the neighbourhood; she refused the proffered assistance of
our adventurer with equal obstinacy and politeness, and with pleasure
saw herself wasting towards that period of mortality which was the
consummation of her wish. Yet her charms, far from melting away with
her constitution, seemed to triumph over the decays of nature. Her
shape and features still retained that harmony for which they had
always been distinguished. A mixture of majesty and sweetness diffused
itself in her looks, and her feebleness added to that soft and feminine
grace which attracts the sympathy, and engages the protection of every
humane beholder. The associates thus baffled in their attempts to
excite her ideas of pleasure, again shifted their plan, and resolved to
attack this forlorn beauty on the side of fear and mortification.
Our adventurer became less frequent in his visits, and more indifferent
in his language and deportment; while Madam la Mer gradually relaxed in
that complacency and respect with which she had hitherto behaved
towards her fair lodger. She even began to drop hints of disapprobation
and reproach against this pattern of innocence and beauty, and at
length grew bold enough to tell her, that her misfortunes could be
attributed to nothing but her own obstinacy and pride; that she had
been at great pains to disoblige the only person who was able and
willing to raise her above dependence; and that, if his protection
should be withdrawn, she must be exposed to the utmost extremity of
distress.
These insinuations, instead of producing the desired effect, inflamed
the indignation of Monimia, who, in a most dignified style of rebuke,
chid her for her indelicacy and presumption, observing, that she could
have no title to take such freedoms with lodgers, whose punctuality and
regular deportment left her no room to complain. Notwithstanding this
animated reply, she underwent the most deplorable anguish, when she
reflected upon the insolence of this woman, from whose barbarity she
had no resource; and, seeing no other possibility of redress than that
of appealing to the good offices of Fathom, she conquered her
reluctance so far, as to complain to him of Madam la Mer’s incivility.
Pleased with this application, he gave her to understand, with very
little ceremony or preamble, that it wholly depended upon herself
whether she should continue to be wretched, or be delivered at once
from all her cares and perplexity; that, notwithstanding the disdain
with which she had treated his addresses, he was still ready to lay
himself and his fortune at her feet; and that, if she should again
reject the disinterested proposal, the whole world and her own
conscience would charge upon herself whatever calamities she might be
subjected to in the sequel. Interpreting into a favourable hesitation
her silence, which was the result of wrath and amazement, he proceeded
to throw himself at her feet, and utter a romantic rhapsody, in the
course of which, laying aside all that restraint which he had hitherto
preserved, he seized her delicate hand, and pressed it to his lips;
nay, so far did he forget himself on this occasion, that he caught the
fair creature in his arms, and rudely ravished a kiss from those lips
which he had before contemplated with the most distant reverence of
desire.
Having thus broken down the fences of decorum, and being heated with
transport, he, in all probability, would have acted the part of young
Tarquin, and violated by force that sacred shrine of honour, beauty,
and unblemished truth, had not the wrath kindled by such an unexpected
outrage inspired her with strength and spirits sufficient to protect
her virtue, and intimidate the ruffian who could offer violence to such
perfection. She broke from his detested embrace with surprising
agility, and called aloud to her landlady for assistance; but that
discreet matron was resolved to hear nothing, and Fathom’s appetite
being whetted to a most brutal degree of eagerness, “Madam,” said he,
“all opposition is vain. What you have refused to my entreaties, you
shall yield to my power; and I am determined to force you to your own
advantage.”
So saying, he sprung towards her, with the most savage and impious
intent, when this amiable heroine snatching up his sword, which lay
upon a by-table, and unsheathing it instantaneously, presented the
point to his breast, and, while her eyes glanced with intolerable
keenness, “Villain!” cried she, “the spirit of my father animates my
bosom, and the vengeance of Heaven shall not be frustrated.” He was not
so much affected by his bodily danger, as awestruck at the manner of
her address, and the appearance of her aspect, which seemed to shine
with something supernatural, and actually disordered his whole
faculties, insomuch that he retreated without attempting to make the
least reply; and she, having secured the door after his departure, sat
down to ponder upon this shocking event.
Words are wanting to describe the accumulated horrors that took
possession of her mind, when she thus beheld all her presaging fears
realised, and found herself at the mercy of two wretches, who had now
pulled off the mask, after having lost all sentiments of humanity.
Common affliction was an agreeable reverie to what she suffered,
deprived of her parents, exiled from her friends and country, reduced
to the brink of wanting the most indispensable necessaries of life, in
a foreign land, where she knew not one person to whose protection she
could have recourse, from the inexpressible woes that environed her.
She complained to Heaven that her life was protracted, for the
augmentation of that misery which was already too severe to be endured;
for she shuddered at the prospect of being utterly abandoned in the
last stage of mortality, without one friend to close her eyes, or do
the last offices of humanity to her breathless corse. These were
dreadful reflections to a young lady who had been born to affluence and
splendour, trained up in all the elegance of education, by nature
fraught with that sensibility which refines the sentiment and taste,
and so tenderly cherished by her indulgent parents, that they suffered
not the winds of Heaven to visit her face too roughly.
Having passed the night in such agony, she rose at daybreak, and,
hearing the chapel bell toll for morning prayers, resolved to go to
this place of worship, in order to implore the assistance of Heaven.
She no sooner opened her chamber door, with this intent, than she was
met by Madam la Mer, who, after having professed her concern for what
had happened overnight, and imputed Mr. Fathom’s rudeness to the spirit
of intoxication, by which she had never before seen him possessed, she
endeavoured to dissuade Monimia from her purpose, by observing, that
her health would be prejudiced by the cold morning air; but finding her
determined, she insisted upon accompanying her to chapel, on pretence
of respect, though, in reality, with a view to prevent the escape of
her beauteous lodger. Thus attended, the hapless mourner entered the
place, and, according to the laudable hospitality of England, which is
the only country in Christendom where a stranger is not made welcome to
the house of God, this amiable creature, emaciated and enfeebled as she
was, must have stood in a common passage during the whole service, had
not she been perceived by a humane gentlewoman, who, struck with her
beauty and dignified air, and melted with sympathy at the ineffable
sorrow which was visible in her countenance, opened the pew in which
she sat, and accommodated Monimia and her attendant. If she was
captivated by her first appearance, she was not less affected by the
deportment of her fair guest, which was the pattern of genuine
devotion.
In a word, this good lady, who was a merchant’s widow in opulent
circumstances, was inflamed with a longing desire to know and befriend
the amiable stranger, who, after service, turning about to thank her
for her civility, Madam Clement, with that frankness which is the
result of true benevolence, told her, she was too much prepossessed in
her favour to let slip this opportunity of craving her acquaintance,
and of expressing her inclination to alleviate, if possible, that
affliction which was manifest in her looks.
Monimia, overwhelmed with gratitude and surprise at this unexpected
address, gazed upon the lady in silence, and when she repeated her
tenders of service, could make no other reply to her goodness, than by
bursting into a flood of tears. This was a species of eloquence which
did not pass unregarded by Madam Clement, who, while her own eyes were
bedewed with the drops of sympathy and compassion, took the lovely
orphan by the hand, and led her, without further ceremony, to her own
coach, that stood waiting at the door, whither they were followed by
Mrs. la Mer, who was so much confounded at the adventure, that she made
no objections to the proposal of the lady, who handed her lodger into
the carriage; but retired, with all possible despatch, to make Fathom
acquainted with this unforeseen event.
Meanwhile the agitation of Monimia, at this providential deliverance,
was such as had well-nigh destroyed her tender frame. The blood flushed
and forsook her cheeks by turns; she trembled from head to foot,
notwithstanding the consolatory assurances of Madam Clement, and,
without being able to utter one word, was conducted to the house of
that kind benefactress, where the violence of her transports
overpowered her constitution, and she sunk down upon a couch in a
swoon, from which she was not easily recovered. This affecting
circumstance augmented the pity, and interested the curiosity of Madam
Clement, who concluded there was something very extraordinary in the
case of the stranger, to produce these agonies; and grew impatient to
hear the particulars of her story.
Monimia no sooner retrieved the use of her faculties, than looking
around, and observing with what humane concern her new hostess was
employed in effecting her recovery, “Is this,” said she, “a flattering
illusion of the brain? or am I really under the protection of some
beneficent being, whom Heaven hath inspired with generosity to rescue
an hapless stranger from the most forlorn state of misery and woe?” Her
voice was at all times ravishingly sweet; and this exclamation was
pronounced with such pathetic fervour, that Madam Clement clasped her
in her arms, and kissing her with all the eagerness of maternal
affection, “Yes,” cried she, “fair creature, Heaven hath bestowed upon
me an heart to compassionate, and power, I hope, to lighten the burden
of your sorrows.”
She then prevailed upon her to take some nourishment, and afterwards to
recount the particulars of her fate; a task she performed with such
accuracy and candour, that Madam Clement, far from suspecting her
sincerity, saw truth and conviction in every circumstance of her tale;
and, having condoled her misfortunes, entreated her to forget them, or
at least look upon herself as one sheltered under the care and tuition
of a person whose study it would be to supply her want of natural
parents. This would have been an happy vicissitude of fortune, had it
not arrived too late; but such a sudden and unlooked-for transition not
only disordered the faculties of poor Monimia’s mind, but also
overpowered the organs of her body, already fatigued and enfeebled by
the distresses she had undergone; so that she was taken ill of a fever
that same night, and became delirious before morning, when a physician
was called to her assistance.
While this gentleman was in the house, Madam Clement was visited by
Fathom, who, after having complained, in the most insinuating manner
that she had encouraged his wife to abandon her duty, told her a
plausible story of his first acquaintance with Monimia, and his
marriage at the Fleet, which, he said, he was ready to prove by the
evidence of the clergyman who joined them, and that of Mrs. la Mer, who
was present at the ceremony. The good lady, although a little staggered
at the genteel appearance and engaging address of this stranger, could
not prevail upon herself to believe that she had been imposed upon by
her fair lodger, who by this time had given too convincing a proof of
her sincerity; nevertheless, in order to prevent any dispute that might
be prejudicial to the health or recovery of Monimia, she gave him to
understand, that she would not at present enter upon the merits of the
cause, but only assure him, that the young lady was actually bereft of
her senses, and in imminent danger of her life; for the truth of which
assertions she would appeal to his own observation, and the opinion of
the physician, who was then employed in writing a prescription for the
cure of her disease.
So saying, she conducted him into the chamber, where he beheld the
hapless virgin stretched upon a sick-bed, panting under the violence of
a distemper too mighty for her weakly frame, her hair dishevelled, and
discomposure in her looks; all the roses of her youth were faded, yet
all the graces of her beauty were not fled. She retained that sweetness
and symmetry, which death itself could not destroy; and though her
discourse was incoherent, her voice was still musical, resembling those
feathered songsters who warble their native wood-notes wild.
Fathom, as upon all other occasions, so on this, did behave like an
inimitable actor; he ran to the bedside, with all the trepidation of a
distracted lover; he fell upon his knees, and, while the tears rolled
down his cheeks, imprinted a thousand kisses on the soft hand of
Monimia, who regarding him with a lack-lustre and undistinguishing eye,
“Alas! Renaldo,” said she, “we were born to be unhappy.” “Would to
Heaven,” cried Ferdinand, in a transport of grief, “the wretch Renaldo
had never been born! that is the villain who seduced the affection of
this unfortunate woman. I admitted the traitor into my friendship and
confidence, relieved him in his necessities; and, like the ungrateful
viper, he hath stung the very bosom that cherished him in his
distress.” Then he proceeded to inform Madam Clement how he had
delivered that same Renaldo from prison, maintained him afterwards at a
great expense, and at length furnished him with a sum of money and
proper credentials to support his interest at the Court of Vienna.
Having finished this detail, he asked the physician’s sentiments of his
wife’s distemper, and being told that her life was in extreme jeopardy,
begged he would use his utmost endeavours in her behalf, and even made
him a tender of an extraordinary fee, which was refused. He also
thanked Madam Clement for her charity and benevolence towards a
stranger, and took his leave with many polite professions of gratitude
and esteem. He had no sooner quitted the house, than the physician, who
was a humane man, and a foreigner, began to caution the lady against
his insinuations, observing, that some circumstances of the story
concerning Renaldo were, to his particular knowledge, contrary to
truth; for that he himself had been applied to for letters of
recommendation in behalf of Count Melvil, by a Jew merchant of his
acquaintance, who had supplied the young gentleman with money
sufficient for his occasions, in consequence of a minute inquiry he had
made into the character of Renaldo, who was, by all reports, a youth of
strict honour and untainted morals.
Madam Clement, thus cautioned, entered into deliberation with her own
thoughts, and, comparing the particulars of this account with those of
Monimia’s own story, she concluded that Fathom was the very traitor he
himself had described; and that he had, by abusing the confidence of
both, effected a fatal breach between two innocent and deserving
lovers. She accordingly looked upon him with horror and detestation;
but nevertheless resolved to treat him with civility in the meantime,
that the poor young lady might not be disturbed in her last moments;
for she had now lost all hopes of her recovery. Yet the fever abated,
and in two days she retrieved the use of her reason; though the
distemper had affected her lungs, and she was in all appearance doomed
to linger a few weeks longer in a consumption.
Fathom was punctual in his visitation, though never admitted into her
presence after the delirium vanished; and he had the opportunity of
seeing her conveyed in a chariot to Kensington Gravel Pits, a place
which may be termed the last stage of many a mortal peregrination. He
now implicitly believed that death would in a few days baffle all his
designs upon the unfortunate Monimia; and foreseeing that, as he had
owned himself her husband, he might be obliged to defray the expenses
incurred by her sickness and burial, he very prudently intermitted in
his visits, and had recourse to the intelligence of his auxiliary.
As for Monimia, she approached the goal of life, not simply with
resignation, but with rapture. She enjoyed in tranquillity the
conversation of her kind benefactress, who never stirred from her
apartment; she was blessed with the spiritual consolation of a worthy
clergyman, who removed all her religious scruples; and she
congratulated herself on the near prospect of that land of peace where
sorrow is not known.
At length Mrs. la Mer gave notice to our adventurer of this amiable
young lady’s decease, and the time fixed for the interment. Upon which
these two virtuous associates took possession of a place from whence
they could, unperceived, behold the funeral. He must have a hard heart,
who, without an emotion of pity, can see the last offices performed to
a young creature cut off in the flower of youth and beauty, even though
he knows not her name, and is an utter stranger to her virtues. How
callous then must the soul of that wretch have been, who, without a
symptom of remorse or concern, saw the sable hearse adorned with white
plumes, as emblems of Monimia’s purity, pass before him, while her
incomparable merit stood full in his remembrance, and he knew himself
the wicked cause of her untimely fate!
Perfidious wretch! thy crimes turn out so atrocious, that I half repent
me of having undertaken to record thy memoirs; yet such monsters ought
to be exhibited to public view, that mankind may be upon their guard
against imposture; that the world may see how fraud is apt to overshoot
itself; and that, as virtue, though it may suffer for a while, will
triumph in the end; so iniquity, though it may prosper for a season,
will at last be overtaken by that punishment and disgrace which are its
due.
CHAPTER FIFTY
FATHOM SHIFTS THE SCENE, AND APPEARS IN A NEW CHARACTER.
Fathom’s expectations with respect to the fair orphan having thus
proved abortive, he lost no time in bewailing his miscarriage, but had
immediate recourse to other means of improving his small fortune,
which, at this period, amounted to near two hundred pounds. Whatever
inclination he had to resume the character he had formerly borne in the
polite world, he durst not venture to launch out again into the expense
necessary to maintain that station, because his former resources were
now stopped, and all the people of fashion by this time convinced of
his being a needy adventurer. Nevertheless, he resolved to sound the
sentiments of his old friends at a distance, and judge, from the
reception he should meet with, how far he might presume upon their
countenance and favour. For he rightly supposed, that if he could in
any shape contribute to their interest or amusement, they would easily
forgive his former pretensions to quality, arrogant as they were, and
still entertain him on the footing of a necessary acquaintance.
With this view, he one day presented himself at court in a very gay
suit of clothes, and bowed, at a distance, to many of his old
fashionable friends of both sexes, not one of whom favoured him with
any other notice, than that of a quarter curtsey, or slight inclination
of the head. For, by this time, the few that remembered him knew from
what retirement he now emerged, and avoided him accordingly as the jail
infection. But the greater part of those who had cultivated him in the
zenith of his fortune were now utter strangers to his person, which
they had actually forgot, amidst the succession of novelties that
surrounded them; or, if they did recollect his name, it was remembered
as an old fashion which had been many months out of date.
Notwithstanding these mortifying discouragements, our hero, that same
evening, effected a lodgment in a certain gaming-house not far from St.
James’s; and, as he played pretty high, and made a parade of his ready
money, he was soon recognised by divers persons of consequence, who
cordially welcomed him to England, on pretence of believing he had been
abroad, and with great complacency repeated their former professions of
friendship. Though this was a certain way of retaining the favour of
those worthies, while his finances continued to flourish, and his
payments were prompt, he knew the weakness of his funds too well, to
think they could bear the vicissitudes of play; and the remembrance of
the two British knights who had spoiled him at Paris, hung over his
imagination with the most frightful presages. Besides, he perceived
that gaming was now managed in such a manner, as rendered skill and
dexterity of no advantage. For the spirit of play having overspread the
land, like a pestilence, raged to such a degree of madness and
desperation, that the unhappy people who were infected, laid aside all
thoughts of amusement, economy, or caution, and risked their fortunes
upon issues equally extravagant, childish, and absurd.
The whole mystery of the art was reduced to the simple exercise of
tossing up a guinea, and the lust of laying wagers, which they indulged
to a surprising pitch of ridiculous intemperance. In one corner of the
room might be heard a pair of lordlings running their grandmothers
against each other, that is, betting sums on the longest liver; in
another the success of the wager depended upon the sex of the
landlady’s next child; and one of the waiters happening to drop down in
an apoplectic fit, a certain noble peer exclaimed, “Dead for a thousand
pounds.” The challenge was immediately accepted; and when the master of
the house sent for a surgeon to attempt the cure, the nobleman, who set
the price upon the patient’s head, insisted upon his being left to the
efforts of nature alone, otherwise the wager should be void. Nay, when
the landlord harped upon the loss he should sustain by the death of a
trusty servant, his lordship obviated the objection, by desiring that
the fellow might be charged in the bill.
In short, the rage of gaming seemed to have devoured all their other
faculties, and to have equalled the rash enthusiasm of the inhabitants
of Malacca in the East Indies, who are so possessed with that
pernicious spirit, that they sacrifice to it not only their fortunes,
but also their wives and children; and then letting their hair down
upon their shoulders, in imitation of the ancient Lacedaemonians when
they devoted themselves to death, those wretches unsheathe their
daggers, and murder every living creature in their way. In this,
however, they differ from the gamesters of our country, who never find
their senses, until they have lost their fortunes, and beggared their
families; whereas the Malays never run amuck, but in consequence of
misery and despair.
Such are the amusements, or rather such is the continual employment of
those hopeful youths who are destined by birth to be the judges of our
property, and pillars of our constitution. Such are the heirs and
representatives of those patriots who planned, and those heroes who
maintained, the laws and freedom of their country; who were the patrons
of merit, the fathers of the poor, the terror of vice and immorality,
and at once the ornaments and support of a happy nation.
Our adventurer considered all these circumstances with his wonted
sagacity, and, seeing upon what precarious footing he must stand,
should he rank himself with such society, he wisely came to the
resolution of descending one step in the degrees of life, and of taking
upon him the title of physician, under which he did not despair of
insinuating himself into the pockets of his patients, and into the
secrets of private families, so as to acquire a comfortable share of
practice, or captivate the heart of some heiress or rich widow, whose
fortune would at once render him independent and happy.
After this determination, his next care was to concert measures for his
first appearance in this new character; well knowing, that the success
of a physician, in a great measure, depends upon the external equipage
in which he first declares himself an adept in the healing art. He
first of all procured a few books on the subject of medicine, which he
studied with great attention during the remaining part of the winter
and spring, and repaired to Tunbridge with the first of the season,
where he appeared in the uniform of Aesculapius, namely, a plain suit,
full trimmed, with a voluminous tie-periwig; believing that in this
place he might glide, as it were, imperceptibly into the functions of
his new employment, and gradually accustom himself to the method and
form of prescription.
A man so well known in the gay world could not be supposed to effect
such a transformation without being observed; and therefore, in order
to anticipate the censure and ridicule of those who might be tempted to
make themselves merry at his expense, he, on his arrival at the wells,
repaired to the shop of an apothecary, and calling for pen, ink, and
paper, wrote a prescription, which he desired might be immediately made
up. While this was doing by the servant, he was invited into a parlour
by the master, with whom he entered into conversation touching the
properties of the Tunbridge water, which seemed to have been his
particular study; and indeed he had perused Rouzee’s treatise on that
subject with indefatigable assiduity. From this theme, he made
digressions into other parts of medicine, upon which he spoke with such
plausible elocution, that the apothecary, whose knowledge in that art
was not very profound, looked upon him as a physician of great learning
and experience, and hinted a desire of knowing his name and situation.
Fathom accordingly gave him to understand, that he had studied physic,
and taken his degrees at Padua, rather for his amusement, than with any
view of exercising medicine, as he then could not possibly foresee the
misfortunes which had since happened to his family, and by which he was
now compelled to have recourse to a profession that was very much
beneath the expectations of his birth. Yet he bore his disappointments
with resignation, and even good-humour, and blessed his stars for
having inclined him to the study of any branch of knowledge by which he
might be enabled to laugh at the vicissitudes of fortune. He then
observed, that he had practised with some applause at the hot well near
Bristol, before he thought he should be ever reduced to the necessity
of taking a fee, and that, in all probability, his metamorphosis, when
known, would furnish matter of surprise and merriment to some of his
old acquaintance.
The apothecary was equally struck with his polite address, and pleased
with his agreeable discourse. He consoled him for the misfortunes of
his family, by assuring him, that in England nothing could be more
honourable, or indeed profitable, than the character of a physician,
provided he could once wriggle himself into practice; and insinuated,
that, although he was restricted by certain engagements with other
persons of the faculty, he should be glad of an opportunity to show his
regard for Doctor Fathom. This was a very effectual method which our
hero took to intimate his new character to the public. By the industry
and communicative disposition of the apothecary, it was circulated in
half a day through every family in the place; and, next morning, when
Ferdinand appeared, the company forthwith assembled in separate groups,
and from each knot he heard his name reverberated in a whisper.
Having thus announced himself to all whom it might concern, and allowed
the ladies two days to discuss the merit of his transfiguration,
together with the novelty of the case, he ventured to salute, at a
distance, a lady and her daughter, who had been his patients at the hot
well; and, although they honoured his bow with the return of a slight
curtsey, they gave him not the least encouragement to make a nearer
approach. Notwithstanding this rebuff, he concluded, that, should the
health of either come in question, they would renew their application
to his skill, and what was refused by their pride would be granted by
their apprehension. Here, however, he happened to be mistaken in his
conjecture.
The young lady being seized with a violent headache and palpitation,
her mother desired the apothecary to recommend a physician; and the
person with whom he was contracted being at that time absent, he
proposed Doctor Fathom as a man of great ability and discretion. But
the good lady rejected the proposal with disdain, because she had
formerly known him in the character of a Count—though that very
character was the chief reason that had then induced her to crave his
advice.
Such is the caprice of the world in general, that whatever bears the
face of novelty captivates, or rather bewitches, the imagination, and
confounds the ideas of reason and common sense. If, for example, a
scullion, from the clinking of pewter, shall conceive a taste for the
clinking of rhyme, and make shift to bring together twenty syllables,
so as that the tenth and last shall have the like ending, the
composition is immediately extolled as a miracle; and what appeals to
the admiration is not the wit, the elegance, or poetry of the work, but
the uncultivated talent and humble station of the author. A reader does
not exclaim, “What a delicate sentiment! what a beautiful simile! what
easy and musical versification!”—but cries in rapture, “Heavens! what a
prodigy a poet from the scullery! a muse in livery! or, Apollo with a
trowel!”—The public is astonished into liberality—the scullion eats
from those trenchers he scoured before—the footman is admitted into the
coach behind which he was wont to stand—and the bricklayer, instead of
plastering walls, bedaubs his illustrious partner with the mortar of
his praise. Thus, lifted into a higher sphere, their talents receive
cultivation; they become professed bards, and though their subsequent
works bear evident marks of improvement, they are neglected among the
rest of their brethren, because that novelty, which recommended them in
the beginning, no longer remains.
So it fared with our adventurer in his new occupation. There was
something so extraordinary in a nobleman’s understanding medicine, and
so uncommon in a physician’s prescribing gratis, that the curiosity and
admiration of the company at Bristol were engaged, and they followed
his advice, as the direction of some supernatural intelligence. But,
now that he professed himself one of the faculty, and might be supposed
to have refreshed his memory, and reinforced his knowledge for the
occasion, he was as much overlooked as any other physician unsupported
by interest or cabal; or, at least, the notice he attracted was not at
all to the advantage of his character, because it wholly regarded the
decline of his fortune, which is a never-failing fund of disgrace.
These mortifications did not overcome the patience and perseverance of
Fathom, who foresaw, that the soothing hand of time would cast a veil
of oblivion over those scenes which were remembered to his prejudice;
and that, in the meantime, though he was excluded from the private
parties of the fair sex, in which his main hope of success was placed,
he should be able to insinuate himself into some degree of favour and
practice among the male patients; and some lucky cure, properly
displayed, might be the means of propagating his fame, and banishing
that reserve which at present interfered with his purpose. Accordingly,
it was not long before he found means to break that spell of universal
prejudice that hedged him in. At the ordinary which he frequented, his
polite carriage, facetious remarks, and agreeable stories soon
conciliated the regard of his fellow-guests, among whom he sometimes
rallied his own transformation with singular good-humour and success.
He was even witty upon his want of employment, and used to observe,
that a physician without practice had one comfort to which his brethren
were strangers, namely, that the seldomer he had occasion to prescribe,
the less he had upon his conscience on account of being accessory to
the death of his fellow-creatures.
Nothing so effectually blunts the shafts of ridicule, and defeats the
aims of slander, as this method of anticipation. In spite of the arrows
that were levelled against his reputation from every tea-table at
Tunbridge, he made his party good among almost all the gay young
gentlemen that frequented the place. Far from avoiding his company,
they began to court his conversation, and he was commonly seen in the
walks surrounded with a group of admirers.
Having thus paved the way for a total removal of the invidious
prepossession that obstructed his views, he, one night, while every
person was lulled in the arms of repose, and universal silence
prevailed, tuned his violin, and began to play some masterly airs, in a
tone so uncommonly expressive, and with such ravishing dexterity of
execution, that a certain lady, who lodged in the same house, being
waked by the music, and ignorant of the source from which it flowed,
listened with rapture, as to the harp of an angel, and, wrapping
herself in a loose gown, rose and opened her chamber door, in order to
discover in what apartment the musician resided. She no sooner entered
the passage, than she found her fellow-lodgers already assembled on the
same occasion; and there they remained during the best part of the
night, transported by the harmony which our hero produced.
Doctor Fathom was immediately known to be the author of this
entertainment; and thus retrieved the benefit of that admiration which
he had forfeited by appearing in the shape of a physician. For, as
people had formerly wondered to see a count skilled in medicine, they
were now amazed to find a physician such a master in music.
The good effects of this stratagem were almost instantaneous. His
performance became the topic of discourse among all the fashionable
company. His male friends complimented him from the information of the
other sex; and that lady whom he had regaled, instead of that shyness
and disdain with which she used to receive his salutation, at their
very next meeting in the thoroughfare, returned his bow with marks of
profound respect. Nay, at midnight, she, with the rest, took post in
the same place where they had been stationed before; and, by frequent
tittering, and repeated whispers, gave intimation to Fathom, that they
would be glad of a second serenade. But he was too well acquainted with
the human passions to indulge this their desire. It was his interest to
inflame their impatience, rather than to gratify their expectation; and
therefore he tantalised them for some hours, by tuning his violin, and
playing some flourishes, which, however, produced nothing to fulfil
their wishes.
At the ordinary, he was accosted by a gentleman, a lodger in the same
house, who assured him, that the ladies would take it as a great favour
if he would let them know when he intended to amuse himself again with
his instrument, that they might not, by falling asleep beforehand,
deprive themselves of the pleasure of hearing his music. To this
message he replied, with an air of consequence and reserve, that,
though music was not the art he professed, he should be always
complaisant enough to entertain the ladies to the utmost of his power,
when their commands were signified to him in a manner suited to his
character; but that he would never put himself on the footing of an
itinerate harper, whose music is tolerated through the medium of a
board partition. The gentleman having reported this answer to his
constituents, they empowered him to invite Doctor Fathom to breakfast,
and he was next morning introduced with the usual ceremony, and treated
with uncommon regard by all the females of the house, assembled for his
reception.
Having thus broken the ice of their aversion in one part, so as that
the beams of his personal accomplishments had room to operate, he soon
effected a general thaw in his favour, and found himself growing once
more into request amongst the most amiable part of the creation. His
company was coveted, and his taste consulted in their balls, concerts,
and private assemblies; and he recompensed the regard they paid to him
with an incessant exertion of his agreeable talents, politeness, and
good-humour.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
TRIUMPHS OVER A MEDICAL RIVAL.
Yet, in the midst of all this attention, his medical capacity seemed to
be quite forgot. They respected his good breeding, were charmed with
his voice, and admired the fine touches of his hand upon the violin;
but in cultivating the fiddler, they utterly neglected the physician;
and in vain did he attempt to divide their regard, by taking all
opportunities to turn the conversation into a more interesting channel.
It was to little purpose he endeavoured to arouse the wonder of his
audience with frequent descriptions of portentous maladies and amazing
cures he had seen and performed in the course of his study and practice
abroad; and to no effect did he publicly busy himself in making
experiments on the mineral water, in which he pretended to have made
several new and important discoveries. These efforts did not make a
lasting impression upon the minds of the company; because they saw
nothing surprising in a physician’s being acquainted with all the
mysteries of his art; and, as their custom was already bespoke for
others of the profession, whom it was their interest to employ, our
adventurer might have starved amidst the caresses of his acquaintance,
had not he derived considerable advantage from a lucky accident in the
course of his expectancy.
A gentlewoman’s daughter, of a weakly constitution, by drinking the
waters, had so far recovered her health and complexion, as to allure
the affection of a young squire in the neighbourhood, who amused her
for some time with his addresses, until his heart was seduced by the
charms of another young lady lately arrived at the wells. The forsaken
nymph, shocked at this disgrace and mortification, relapsed into her
former languishing disorder; and was by her mother put under the
management and prescription of a physician, who had been an industrious
enemy of Fathom from his first appearance at Tunbridge. The patient,
though violently chagrined at the levity of her quondam admirer, was
not altogether without hope, that the very same inconstancy which had
prompted him to leave her, might in time induce him to return, after
the novelty of his new passion should be wore off; and this hope served
to support her under the sorrow and disgrace of her disappointment. At
length, however, the squire and his new mistress disappeared; and some
busybody was officious enough to communicate this piece of news to the
forlorn shepherdess, with this additional circumstance, that they were
gone to a neighbouring parish to be joined in the bands of wedlock.
These fatal tidings were no sooner imparted to the abandoned Phillis,
than she was seized with an hysteric fit; and, what rendered the
accident more unfortunate, her physician had been called to the
country, and was not expected at Tunbridge till next day. The
apothecary was immediately summoned; and, being either puzzled by the
symptoms, or afraid of encroaching upon the province of his superiors,
advised the old lady to send for Doctor Fathom without delay. She had
no other objection to this expedient, but the enmity which she knew
subsisted between the two leeches; yet, hearing that her own doctor
would not consult with Fathom upon his return but, perhaps renounce the
patient, by which means her daughter’s health might be endangered, she
would not solicit our hero’s assistance, until the young lady had
remained seven hours speechless and insensible; when, her fear
prevailing over every other consideration, she implored the advice of
our adventurer, who, having made the necessary interrogations, and felt
the patient’s pulse, which was regular and distinct, found reason to
conclude that the fit would not last much longer, and, after having
observed that she was in a very dangerous way, prescribed some
medicines for external application; and, to enhance their opinion of
his diligence and humanity, resolved to stay in the room and observe
their effect.
His judgment did not fail him on this occasion. In less than half an
hour after his embrocations had been applied, she recovered the use of
her tongue, opened her eyes, and having, in delirious exclamations,
upbraided her perfidious lover, became quite sensible and composed,
though she continued extremely low and dejected. To remedy these
sinkings, certain cordials were immediately administered, according to
the prescription of Doctor Fathom, upon whom extraordinary encomiums
were bestowed by all present, who believed he had actually rescued her
from the jaws of death; and as he was by this time let into the secrets
of the family, he found himself in a fair way of being an egregious
favourite of the old gentlewoman; when, unluckily, his brother, having
dismissed his country patient with uncommon despatch, entered the
apartment, and eyed his rival with looks of inexpressible rage; then,
surveying the patient, and the phials that stood upon the table, by
turns, “What, in the name of God!” cried he, “is the meaning of all
this trash!”
“Really, doctor,” replied the mother, a little confounded at being thus
taken by surprise, “Biddy has been taken dangerously ill, and lain
seven or eight hours in a severe fit, from which I am confident she
would never have recovered without the help of a physician; and as you
were absent, we had recourse to this gentleman, whose prescription hath
had a happy and surprising effect.” “Effect!” cried this offended
member of the faculty, “pshaw!—stuff!—who made you judge of effects or
causes?” Then advancing to the patient, “What has been the matter, Miss
Biddy, that you could not wait till my return?”
Here Fathom interposing, “Sir,” said he, “if you will step into the
next room, I will communicate my sentiments of the case, together with
the method upon which I have proceeded, that we may deliberate upon the
next step that is to be taken.” Instead of complying with this
proposal, he seated himself in a chair, with his back to our
adventurer, and, while he examined Miss Biddy’s pulse, gave him to
understand, that he should not consult with him about the matter.
Fathom, not in the least disconcerted at this uncivil answer, walked
round his antagonist, and, placing himself in his front, desired to
know his reason for treating him with such supercilious contempt. “I am
resolved,” said the other, “never to consult with any physician who has
not taken his degrees at either of the English universities.” “Upon the
supposition,” replied our adventurer, “that no person can be properly
educated for the profession at any other school.” “You are in the
right,” answered Doctor Looby; “that is one of many reasons I have to
decline the consultation.”
“How far you are in the right,” retorted Fathom, “I leave the world to
judge, after I have observed, that, in your English universities, there
is no opportunity of studying the art; no, not so much as a lecture
given on the subject. Nor is there one physician of note in this
kingdom who has not derived the greatest part of his medical knowledge
from the instructions of foreigners.”
Looby, incensed at this asseveration, which he was not prepared to
refute, exclaimed, in a most infuriate accent, “Who are you?—whence
came you?—where was you bred? You are one of those, I believe, who
graduate themselves, and commence doctors, the Lord knows how; an
interloper, who, without licence or authority, comes hither to take the
bread out of the mouths of gentlemen who have been trained to the
business in a regular manner, and bestowed great pains and expense to
qualify themselves for the profession. For my own part, my education
cost me fifteen hundred pounds.”
“Never was money laid out to less purpose,” said Ferdinand; “for it
does not appear that you have learned so much as the basis of medical
requirements, namely, that decorum and urbanity which ought to
distinguish the deportment of every physician. You have even debased
the noblest and most beneficial art that ever engaged the study of
mankind, which cannot be too much cultivated, and too little
restrained, in seeking to limit the practice of it to a set of
narrow-minded, illiberal wretches, who, like the lowest handicraftsmen,
claim the exclusive privileges of a corporation. Had you doubted my
ability, you ought to have satisfied yourself in a manner consistent
with decency and candour; but your behaviour on this occasion is such a
malicious outrage upon good manners and humanity, that, were it not for
my regard to these ladies, I would chastise you for your insolence on
the spot. Meanwhile, madam,” addressing himself to the mother, “you
must give me leave to insist upon your dismissing either that
gentleman, or me, without hesitation.”
This peremptory language had an instantaneous effect upon the hearers.
Looby’s face grew pale, and his nether lip began to tremble. The
patient was dismayed, and the old gentlewoman concerned and perplexed.
She earnestly besought the gentlemen to be reconciled to each other,
and enter into a friendly consultation upon her daughter’s distemper;
but, finding both equally averse to accommodation, and Fathom becoming
more and more importunate in his demand, she presented him with a
double fee; and giving him to understand that Doctor Looby had long
attended the family, and was intimately acquainted with her own and
Biddy’s constitution, said, she hoped he would not take it amiss if she
retained her old physician.
Though our hero was much mortified at this triumph of his rival, he
made a virtue of necessity, and retired with great complaisance,
wishing that Miss Biddy might never again be the subject of such a
disagreeable dispute. Whether the patient was frighted at this
altercation, or displeased with her mother’s decision against an
agreeable young fellow, who had, as it were, recalled her from the
grave, and made himself master of the secret that rankled at her heart,
or the disease had wound up her nerves for another paroxysm, certain it
is, she all of a sudden broke forth into a violent peal of laughter,
which was succeeded by the most doleful cries, and other expressions of
grief; then she relapsed into a fit, attended with strong convulsions,
to the unspeakable terror of the old gentlewoman, who entreated Doctor
Looby to be expeditious in his prescription. Accordingly he seized the
pen with great confidence, and a whole magazine of antihysteric
medicines were, in different forms, externally and internally applied.
Nevertheless, either nature was disturbed in her own efforts by these
applications, or the patient was resolved to disgrace the doctor. For
the more remedies that were administered, her convulsions became the
more violent; and in spite of all his endeavours, he could not overcome
the obstinacy of the distemper. Such a miscarriage, upon the back of
his rival’s success, could not fail to overwhelm him with confusion;
especially as the mother baited him with repeated entreaties to do
something for the recovery of her daughter. At length, after having
exercised her patience in vain for several hours, this affectionate
parent could no longer suppress the suggestions of her concern, but, in
an incoherent strain, told him that her duty would not suffer her to be
longer silent in an affair on which depended the life of her dear
child. That she had seen enough to believe he had mistaken the case of
poor Biddy, and he could not justly blame her for recalling Doctor
Fathom, whose prescription had operated in a miraculous manner.
Looby, shocked at this proposal, protested against it with great
vehemence, as an expedient highly injurious to himself. “My remedies,”
said he, “are just beginning to take effect, and, in all probability,
the fit will not last much longer; so that, by calling in another
person at this juncture, you will defraud me of that credit which is my
due, and deck my adversary with trophies to which he has no
pretension.” She was prevailed upon, by this remonstrance, to wait
another half hour, when perceiving, as yet, no alteration for the
better, and being distracted with her fears, which reproached her with
want of natural affection, she sent a message to Doctor Fathom,
desiring to see him with all possible despatch.
He was not slow in obeying the call, but hastening to the scene of
action, was not a little surprised to find Looby still in the
apartment. This gentleman, since better might not be, resolved to
sacrifice his pride to his interest, and, rather than lose his patient
altogether, and run the risk of forfeiting his reputation at the same
time, stayed with intention to compromise his difference with Fathom,
that he might not be wholly excluded from the honour of the cure, in
case it could be effected. But he had reckoned without his host in his
calculation of the Count’s placability; for, when he put on his
capitulating face, and, after a slight apology for his late behaviour,
proposed that all animosity should subside in favour of the young lady,
whose life was at stake, our hero rejected his advances with infinite
disdain, and assured the mother, in a very solemn tone, that, far from
consulting with a man who had treated him so unworthily, he would not
stay another minute in the house, unless he should see him discarded; a
satisfaction barely sufficient to atone for the affront he himself had
suffered by the unjust preference she had before given to his rival.
There was no remedy. Looby was obliged to retreat in his turn; then our
adventurer, approaching the bedside, reconnoitred the patient, examined
the medicines which had been administered, and lifting up his eyes in
expressive silence, detached the footman with a new order to the
apothecary. It was well the messenger used expedition, otherwise Doctor
Fathom would have been anticipated by the operation of nature; for, the
fit having almost run its career, Miss Biddy was on the point of
retrieving her senses, when the frontal prescribed by Fathom was
applied; to the efficacy of this, therefore, was ascribed her recovery,
when she opened her eyes, and began to pour forth unconnected
ejaculations; and in a few moments after, she was persuaded to swallow
a draught prepared for the purpose, her perception returned, and
Ferdinand gained the reputation of having performed a second miracle.
But he was furnished with a piece of intelligence, of much more energy
than all she had taken, and so soon as he concluded she was capable to
bear the news without any dangerous emotion, he, among other articles
of chit-chat culled for her amusement, took the opportunity of telling
the company, that Squire Stub (the cause of Miss Biddy’s disorder) had,
in his way to matrimony, been robbed of his bride, by a gentleman to
whom she had been formerly engaged. He had waited for her on purpose at
an inn on the road, where he found means to appease her displeasure,
which he had, it seems, incurred, and to supersede her new lover, whom
she quitted without ceremony; upon which the squire had returned to
Tunbridge, cursing her levity, yet blessing his good stars for having
so seasonably prevented his ruin, which would have infallibly been the
consequence of his marrying such an adventurer.
It would be superfluous to observe, that these tidings operated like an
admirable specific on the spirits of the young lady, who, while she
affected to pity the squire, was so much overjoyed at his
disappointment, that her eyes began to sparkle with uncommon vivacity,
and in less than two hours after the last of those terrible attacks,
she was restored to a better state of health than she had enjoyed for
many weeks. Fathom was not forgot amidst the rejoicings of the family.
Besides an handsome gratuity for the effects of his extraordinary
skill, the old lady favoured him with a general invitation to her
house, and the daughter not only considered him as the restorer of her
health, and angel of her good fortune, but also began to discover an
uncommon relish for his conversation; so that he was struck with the
prospect of succeeding Squire Stub in her affection. A conquest which,
if sanctioned by the approbation of the mother, would console him for
all the disappointments he had sustained; for Miss Biddy was entitled
to a fortune of ten thousand pounds, provided she should marry with the
consent of her parent, who was the sole executrix of the father’s will.
Animated with the hope of such an advantageous match, our adventurer
missed no opportunity of improving the lodgment he had made, while the
two ladies failed not to extol his medical capacity among all their
female acquaintances. By means of this circulation, his advice was
demanded in several other cases, which he managed with such an imposing
air of sagacity and importance, that his fame began to spread, and
before the end of the season, he had ravished more than one half of the
business from his competitor. Notwithstanding these fortunate events,
he foresaw, that he should find great difficulty in transplanting his
reputation, so as to take root in London, which was the only soil in
which he could propose to rise to any degree of prosperity and
independence; and this reflection was grounded upon a maxim which
universally prevails among the English people, namely, to overlook and
wholly neglect, on their return to the metropolis, all the connexions
they may have chanced to acquire during their residence at any of the
medical wells. And this social disposition is so scrupulously
maintained, that two persons who lived in the most intimate
correspondence at Bath or Tunbridge, shall in four-and-twenty hours so
totally forget their friendship, as to meet in St. James’s Park,
without betraying the least token of recognition; so that one would
imagine these mineral waters were so many streams issuing from the
river Lethe, so famed of old for washing away all traces of memory and
recollection.
Aware of this oblivious principle, Doctor Fathom collected all his
qualifications, in order to make such an impression upon the heart of
Miss Biddy, as would resist all her endeavours to shake him from her
remembrance; and his efforts succeeded so well, that Squire Stub’s
advances to a reconciliation were treated with manifest indifference.
In all probability our hero would have made a very advantageous
campaign, had not his good fortune been retarded by an obstruction,
which, as he did not perceive it, he could not possibly surmount. In
displaying his accomplishments to captivate the daughter, he had
unwittingly made an absolute conquest of the mother, who superintended
the conduct of Miss Biddy with such jealous vigilance, that he could
find no opportunity of profiting by the progress he had made in her
heart; for the careful matron would never lose sight of her, no, not
for one moment.
Had the old lady given the least intimation to our adventurer, of the
sentiments she entertained in his behalf, his complaisance was of such
a pliable texture, that he would have quitted his other pursuit, and
made her the sole object of his attention. But she either depended upon
the effect of his own good taste and discernment, or was too proud to
disclose a passion which he had hitherto overlooked.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
REPAIRS TO THE METROPOLIS, AND ENROLS HIMSELF AMONG THE SONS OF PAEAN.
Before this affair could be brought to a proper explanation, the season
being almost ended, the ladies departed from Tunbridge, and in a little
time Doctor Fathom followed them to London, having previously obtained
permission to visit them in that metropolis. He had solicited the same
favour of some other families, in which he hoped to take root, though
he knew they were pre-engaged to different physicians; and resolving to
make his first medical appearance in London with some eclat, he not
only purchased an old chariot, which was new painted for the purpose,
but likewise hired a footman, whom he clothed in laced livery, in order
to distinguish himself from the common run of his brethren.
This equipage, though much more expensive than his finances could bear,
he found absolutely necessary to give him a chance for employment; as
every shabby retainer to physic, in this capital, had provided himself
with a vehicle, which was altogether used by way of a travelling
sign-post, to draw in customers; so that a walking physician was
considered as an obscure pedlar, trudging from street to street, with
his pack of knowledge on his shoulders, and selling his remnants of
advice by retail. A chariot was not now set up for the convenience of a
man sinking under the fatigue of extensive practice, but as a piece of
furniture every way as necessary as a large periwig with three tails;
and a physician, let his merit, in other respects, be never so
conspicuous, can no more expect to become considerable in business,
without the assistance of this implement, than he can hope to live
without food, or breathe without a windpipe.
This requisite is so well understood, that, exclusive of those who
profess themselves doctors, every raw surgeon, every idle apothecary,
who can make interest with some foolhardy coachmaker, may be seen
dancing the bays in all places of public resort, and grinning to one
another from their respective carriages. Hence proceed many of those
cruel accidents which are recorded in the daily papers. An apothecary’s
horses take fright, and run away with his chariot, which is heard of no
more. An eminent surgeon being overturned, is so terrified at the
thoughts of mutilation, that he resolves to walk on foot all the days
of his life; and the coachman of a physician of great practice, having
the misfortune to be disabled by a fall from the box, his master can
never find another to supply his place.
None of these observations escaped the penetrating eye of Fathom, who,
before he pretended to seat himself in this machine, had made proper
inquiry into all the other methods practised, with a view to keep the
wheels in motion. In his researches, he found that the great world was
wholly engrossed by a few practitioners who had arrived at the summit
of reputation, consequently were no longer obliged to cultivate those
arts by which they rose; and that the rest of the business was
parcelled out into small enclosures, occupied by different groups of
personages, male and female, who stood in rings, and tossed the ball
from one to another, there being in each department two sets, the
individuals of which relieved one another occasionally. Every knot was
composed of a waiting-woman, nurse, apothecary, surgeon, and physician,
and sometimes a midwife was admitted into the party; and in this manner
the farce was commonly performed.
A fine lady, fatigued with idleness, complains of the vapours, is
deprived of her rest, though not so sick as to have recourse to
medicine. Her favourite maid, tired with giving her attendance in the
night, thinks proper, for the benefit of her own repose, to complain of
a violent headache, and recommends to her mistress a nurse of approved
tenderness and discretion; at whose house, in all likelihood, the said
chambermaid hath oft given the rendezvous to a male friend. The nurse,
well skilled in the mysteries of her occupation, persuades the patient,
that her malady, far from being slight or chimerical, may proceed to a
very dangerous degree of the hysterical affection, unless it be nipt in
the bud by some very effectual remedy. Then she recounts a surprising
cure performed by a certain apothecary, and appeals to the testimony of
the waiting-woman, who being the gossip of his wife, confirms the
evidence, and corroborates the proposal. The apothecary being summoned,
finds her ladyship in such a delicate situation, that he declines
prescribing, and advises her to send for a physician without delay. The
nomination of course falls to him, and the doctor being called,
declares the necessity of immediate venesection, which is accordingly
performed by a surgeon of the association.
This is one way of beginning the game. Though the commencement often
varies, and sometimes the apothecary and sometimes the physician opens
the scene; but, be that as it will, they always appear in a string,
like a flight of wild geese, and each confederacy maintains a
correspondence with one particular undertaker. Fathom, upon these
considerations, set up his rest in the first floor of an apothecary in
the neighbourhood of Charing Cross, to whom he was introduced by a
letter from a friend at Tunbridge, and who being made acquainted with
his ability and scheme, promised to let slip no opportunity of serving
him; and, indeed, seemed to espouse his interest with great alacrity.
He introduced him to some of his patients, on the strength of a gratis
visit, sounded forth his praise among all the good women of his
acquaintance; and even prevailed upon him to publish advertisements,
importing that he would every day, at a certain time and place, give
his advice to the poor for nothing; hoping that, by means of some lucky
cure, his fame might be extended, and his practice grow into request.
In the meantime his chariot rolled along through all the most
frequented streets, during the whole forenoon, and, at the usual hour,
he never failed to make his appearance at the medical coffee-house,
with all that solemnity of feature and address, by which the modern
sons of Paean are distinguished; not but that he was often puzzled
about the decision of his diurnal route. For the method of driving up
one street and down another, without halting, was become such a stale
expedient, that the very ’prentices used to stand at the shop doors,
and ridicule the vain parade. At length, however, he perused the map of
London with great diligence, and, having acquired a distinct idea of
its topography, used to alight at the end of long narrow thoroughfares
and paved courts, where the chariot was ordered to wait till his
return; and, walking with great gravity through the different turnings
of these alleys, regain his carriage by another passage, and resume his
seat with an air of vast importance. With a view to protract the time
of his supposed visits, he would, at one place, turn aside to a wall;
at another, cheapen an urinal; at a third corner, read a quack
advertisement, or lounge a few minutes in some bookseller’s shop; and,
lastly, glide into some obscure coffee-house, and treat himself with a
dram of usquebaugh.
The other means used to force a trade, such as ordering himself to be
called from church, alarming the neighbourhood with knocking at his
door in the night, receiving sudden messages in places of resort, and
inserting his cures by way of news in the daily papers, had been so
injudiciously hackneyed by every desperate sculler in physic, that they
had lost their effect upon the public, and therefore were excluded from
the plan of our adventurer, whose scheme, for the present, was to exert
himself in winning the favour of those sage Sibyls, who keep, as it
were, the temple of medicine, and admit the young priest to the service
of the altar; but this he considered as a temporary project only, until
he should have acquired interest enough to erect an hospital, lock, or
infirmary, by the voluntary subscription of his friends, a scheme which
had succeeded to a miracle with many of the profession, who had raised
themselves into notice upon the carcases of the poor.
Yet even this branch was already overstocked, insomuch that almost
every street was furnished with one of these charitable receptacles,
which, instead of diminishing the taxes for the maintenance of the
poor, encouraged the vulgar to be idle and dissolute, by opening an
asylum to them and their families, from the diseases of poverty and
intemperance. For it remains to be proved, that the parish rates are
decreased, the bills of mortality lessened, the people more numerous,
or the streets less infested with beggars, notwithstanding the immense
sums yearly granted by individuals for the relief of the indigent.
But, waiving these reflections, Doctor Fathom hoped, that his landlord
would be a most useful implement for extending his influence, and, for
that reason, admitted him into a degree of partnership, after being
fully convinced that he was not under articles to any other physician.
Nevertheless, he was very much mistaken in reckoning on the importance
of his new ally, who was, like himself, a needy adventurer, settled
upon credit, and altogether unemployed, except among the very refuse of
the people, whom no other person would take the trouble to attend. So
that our hero got little else than experience and trouble, excepting a
few guineas which he made shift to glean among sojourners, with whom he
became occasionally acquainted, or young people, who had been
unfortunate in their amours.
In the midst of these endeavours, he did not omit his duty to the old
gentlewoman, whose daughter he had cured at Tunbridge; and was always
received with particular complacency, which, perhaps, he, in some
measure, owed to his genteel equipage, that gave credit to every door
before which it was seen; yet, Miss Biddy was as inaccessible as ever,
while the mother became more and more warm in her civilities, till at
length, after having prepared him with some extraordinary compliments,
she gave him to understand, that Biddy was no better than a
giddy-headed girl, far from being unexceptionable in her moral
character, and particularly deficient in duty and gratitude to her, who
had been always a tender and indulgent parent; she was therefore
determined to punish the young minx for her levity and want of natural
affection, by altering her own condition, could she find a worthy and
agreeable man, on whom she could bestow her hand and fortune without a
blush.
The film was instantly removed from Fathom’s eyes by this declaration,
which she uttered with such a significancy of look, as thrilled to his
soul with joyful presage, while he replied, it would, indeed, be a
difficult task to find a man who merited such happiness and honour;
but, surely, some there were, who would task their faculties to the
uttermost, in manifesting their gratitude, and desire of rendering
themselves worthy of such distinction. Though this answer was
pronounced in such a manner as gave her to understand he had taken the
hint, she would not cheapen her condescension so much as to explain
herself further at that juncture, and he was very well contented to woo
her on her own terms; accordingly he began to season his behaviour with
a spice of gallantry, when he had opportunities of being particular
with this new inamorata, and, in proportion to the returns she made, he
gradually detached himself from Miss Biddy, by intermitting, and, at
last, discontinuing those ardent expressions of love and admiration,
which he had made shift to convey in private looks and stolen whispers,
during the rancorous inspection of her mother.
Such alteration could not long escape the jealous eyes of the young
lady, no more than the cause of this alienation, which, in a moment,
converted all her love into irreconcilable hate, and filled her whole
soul with the most eager desire of vengeance. For she now not only
considered him as a mercenary wretch, who had slighted her attractions
for the sordid gratifications of avarice, but also as an interloper,
who wanted to intercept her fortune, in the odious character of a
father-in-law. But, before she could bring her aim to any ripeness of
contrivance, her mother, having caught cold at church, was seized with
a rheumatic fever, became delirious in less than three days, and,
notwithstanding all the prescriptions and care of her admirer, gave up
the ghost, without having retrieved the use of her senses, or been able
to manifest, by will, the sentiments she entertained in favour of her
physician, who, as the reader will easily perceive, had more reasons
than one to be mortally chagrined at this event.
Miss Biddy being thus put in possession of the whole inheritance, not
only renounced all correspondence with Doctor Fathom, by forbidding him
the house, but likewise took all opportunities of prejudicing his
character, by hinting, that her dear mamma had fallen a sacrifice to
his ignorance and presumption.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
ACQUIRES EMPLOYMENT IN CONSEQUENCE OF A LUCKY MISCARRIAGE.
These ill offices, however, far from answering her purpose, had a quite
contrary effect. For, in consequence of her invectives, he was, in a
few days, called to the wife of a merchant, who piously hoped, that his
practice would not give Miss Biddy the lie. The patient had long
lingered under a complication of distempers, and being in no immediate
danger of her life, Doctor Fathom was in no hurry to strike a decisive
stroke; till the husband growing impatient of delay, and so explicit in
his hints, that it was impossible to misapprehend his meaning, our
adventurer resolved to do something effectual for his satisfaction, and
prescribed a medicine of such rough operation, as he thought must
either oblige his employer, or produce a change in the lady’s
constitution, that would make a noise in the world, and bring a new
accession to his fame.
Proceeding upon these maxims, he could not be disappointed. The remedy
played its part with such violence, as reduced the patient to
extremity, and the merchant had actually bespoke an undertaker; when,
after a series of swoonings and convulsions, nature so far prevailed,
as to expel, at once, the prescription and the disease; yet the
good-natured husband was so much affected with the agonies to which he
saw the wife of his bosom exposed by this specific, that, although the
effect of it was her perfect recovery, he could never bear the sight of
Fathom for the future, nor even hear his name mentioned, without giving
signs of horror and indignation. Nay, he did not scruple to affirm,
that, had our adventurer been endowed with the least tincture of
humanity, he would have suffered the poor woman to depart in peace,
rather than restore her to health, at the expense of such anxiety and
torture.
On the other hand, this extraordinary cure was blazoned abroad by the
good lady and her gossips, with such exaggerations as roused the
astonishment of the public, and concurred with the report of his last
miscarriage to bring him upon the carpet, as the universal subject of
discourse. When a physician becomes the town talk, he generally
concludes his business more than half done, even though his fame should
wholly turn upon his malpractice; insomuch that some members of the
faculty have been heard to complain, that they never had the good
fortune to be publicly accused of homicide; and it is well known, that
a certain famous empiric, of our day, never flourished to any degree of
wealth and reputation till after he had been attacked in print, and
fairly convicted of having destroyed a good number of the human
species. Success raised upon such a foundation would, by a disciple of
Plato, and some modern moralists, be ascribed to the innate virtue and
generosity of the human heart, which naturally espouses the cause that
needs protection. But I, whose notions of human excellence are not
quite so sublime, am apt to believe it is owing to that spirit of
self-conceit and contradiction, which is, at least, as universal, if
not as natural, as the moral sense so warmly contended for by those
ideal philosophers.
The most infamous wretch often finds his account in these principles of
malevolence and self-love. For wheresoever his character falls under
discussion there is generally some person present, who, either from an
affectation of singularity, or envy to the accusers, undertakes his
defence, and endeavours to invalidate the articles of his impeachment,
until he is heated by altercation, and hurried into more effectual
measures for his advantage. If such benefits accrue to those who have
no real merit to depend upon, surely our hero could not but reap
something extraordinary from the debates to which he now gave rise; as,
by the miraculous cure he had affected, all his patient’s friends, all
the enemies of her husband, all those who envied his other adversary,
were interested in his behalf, exclusive of such admirers as surprise
and curiosity might engage in his cause.
Thus wafted upon the wings of applause, his fame soon diffused itself
into all the corners of this great capital. The newspapers teemed with
his praise; and in order to keep up the attention of the public, his
emissaries, male and female, separated into different coffee-houses,
companies, and clubs, where they did not fail to comment upon these
articles of intelligence. Such a favourable incident is, of itself,
sufficient to float the bark of a man’s fortune. He was, in a few days,
called to another lady, labouring under the same disorder he had so
successfully dispelled, and she thought herself benefited by his
advice. His acquaintance naturally extended itself among the visitants
and allies of his patients; he was recommended from family to family;
the fees began to multiply; a variety of footmen appeared every day at
his door; he discontinued his sham circuit, and looking upon the
present conjuncture, as that tide in his affairs, which, according to
Shakespeare, when taken at the full, leads on to fortune, he resolved
that the opportunity should not be lost, and applied himself with such
assiduity to his practice, that, in all likelihood, he would have
carried the palm from all his contemporaries, had he not split upon the
same rock which had shipwrecked his hopes before.
We have formerly descanted upon that venereal appetite which glowed in
the constitution of our adventurer, and with all his philosophy and
caution could hardly keep within bounds. The reader, therefore, will
not be much surprised to learn, that, in the exercise of his
profession, he contracted an intimacy with a clergyman’s wife, whom he
attended as a physician, and whose conjugal virtue he subdued by a long
and diligent exertion of his delusive arts, while her mind was
enervated by sickness, and her husband abroad upon his necessary
occasions. This unhappy patient, who was a woman of an agreeable person
and lively conversation, fell a sacrifice to her own security and
self-conceit; her want of health had confined her to a sedentary life,
and her imagination being active and restless, she had spent those
hours in reading which other young women devote to company and
diversion, but, as her studies were not superintended by any person of
taste, she had indulged her own fancy without method or propriety. The
Spectator taught her to be a critic and philosopher; from plays she
learned poetry and wit, and derived her knowledge of life from books of
history and adventures. Fraught with these acquisitions, and furnished
by nature with uncommon vivacity, she despised her own sex, and courted
the society of men, among whom she thought her talents might be more
honourably displayed, fully confident of her own virtue and sagacity,
which enabled her to set all their arts at defiance.
Thus qualified, she, in an evil hour, had recourse to the advice of our
adventurer, for some ailment under which she had long laboured, and
found such relief from his skill as very much prepossessed her in his
favour. She was no less pleased with his obliging manners than with his
physic, and found much entertainment in his conversation, so that the
acquaintance proceeded to a degree of intimacy, during which he
perceived her weak side, and being enamoured of her person, flattered
her out of all her caution. The privilege of his character furnished
him with opportunities to lay snares for her virtue, and, taking
advantage of that listlessness, languor, and indolence of the spirits,
by which all the vigilance of the soul is relaxed, he, after a long
course of attention and perseverance, found means to make shipwreck of
her peace.
Though he mastered her chastity, he could not quiet her conscience,
which incessantly upbraided her with breach of the marriage vow; nor
did her undoer escape without a share of the reproaches suggested by
her penitence and remorse. This internal anxiety co-operating with her
disease, and perhaps with the medicines he prescribed, reduced her to
the brink of the grave; when her husband returned from a neighbouring
kingdom, in consequence of her earnest request, joined to the
information of her friends, who had written to him an account of the
extremity in which she was. The good man was afflicted beyond measure
when he saw himself upon the verge of losing a wife whom he had always
tenderly loved; but what were his emotions, when she, taking the first
opportunity of his being alone with her, accosted him to this effect:
“I am now hastening towards that dissolution from which no mortal is
exempted, and though the prospect of futurity is altogether clouded and
uncertain, my conscience will not allow me to plunge into eternity
without unburdening my mind, and, by an ingenuous confession, making
all the atonement in my power for the ingratitude I have been guilty
of, and the wrongs I have committed against a virtuous husband, who
never gave me cause of complaint. You stand amazed at this preamble,
but alas! how will you be shocked when I own that I have betrayed you
in your absence, that I have trespassed against God and my marriage
vow, and fallen from the pride and confidence of virtue to the most
abject state of vice; yes, I have been unfaithful to your bed, having
fallen a victim to the infernal insinuations of a villain, who took
advantage of my weak and unguarded moments. Fathom is the wretch who
hath thus injured your honour, and ruined my unsuspecting innocence. I
have nothing to plead in alleviation of my crime but the most sincere
contrition of heart, and though, at any other juncture, I could not
expect your forgiveness, yet, as I now touch the goal of life, I trust
in your humanity and benevolence for that pardon which will lighten the
sorrows of my soul, and those prayers which I hope will entitle me to
favour at the throne of grace.”
The poor husband was so much overwhelmed with grief and confusion at
this unexpected address that he could not recollect himself till after
a pause of several minutes, when uttering a hollow groan, “I will not,”
said he, “aggravate your sufferings, by reproaching you with my wrongs,
though your conduct hath been but an ill return for all my tenderness
and esteem. I look upon it as a trial of my Christian patience, and
bear my misfortune with resignation; meanwhile, I forgive you from my
heart, and fervently pray that your repentance may be acceptable to the
Father of Mercy.” So saying, he approached her bedside, and embraced
her in token of his sincerity. Whether this generous condescension
diffused such a composure upon her spirits as tended to the ease and
refreshment of nature, which had been almost exhausted by disease and
vexation, certain it is, that from this day she began to struggle with
her malady in surprising efforts, and hourly gained ground, until her
health was pretty well re-established.
This recovery was so far beyond the husband’s expectation, that he
began to make very serious reflections on the event, and even to wish
he had not been quite so precipitate in pardoning the backslidings of
his wife; for, though he could not withhold his compassion from a dying
penitent, he did not at all relish the thoughts of cohabiting, as
usual, with a wife self-convicted of the violation of the matrimonial
contract; he therefore considered his declaration as no more than a
provisional pardon, to take place on condition of her immediate death,
and, in a little time, not only communicated to her his sentiments on
this subject, but also separated himself from her company, secured the
evidence of her maid, who had been confidant in her amour with Fathom,
and immediately set on foot a prosecution against our adventurer, whose
behaviour to his wife he did not fail to promulgate, with all its
aggravating circumstances. By these means the doctor’s name became so
notorious that every man was afraid of admitting him into his house,
and every woman ashamed of soliciting his advice.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
HIS ECLIPSE, AND GRADUAL DECLINATION.
Misfortunes seldom come single; upon the back of this hue and cry he
unluckily prescribed phlebotomy to a gentleman of some rank, who
chanced to expire during the operation, and quarrelled with his
landlord the apothecary, who charged him with having forgot the good
offices he had done him in the beginning of his career, and desired he
would provide himself with another lodging.
All these mishaps, treading upon the heels of one another, had a very
mortifying effect upon his practice. At every tea-table his name was
occasionally put to the torture, with that of the vile creature whom he
had seduced, though it was generally taken for granted by all those
female casuists, that she must have made the first advances, for it
could not be supposed that any man would take much trouble in laying
schemes for the ruin of a person whose attractions were so slender,
especially considering the ill state of her health, a circumstance that
seldom adds to a woman’s beauty or good-humour; besides, she was always
a pert minx, that affected singularity, and a masculine manner of
speaking, and many of them had foreseen that she would, some time or
other, bring herself into such a premunire. At all gossipings, where
the apothecary or his wife assisted, Fathom’s pride, ingratitude, and
malpractice were canvassed; in all clubs of married men he was
mentioned with marks of abhorrence and detestation, and every medical
coffee-house rung with his reproach. Instances of his ignorance and
presumption were quoted, and many particulars feigned for the purpose
of defamation, so that our hero was exactly in the situation of a
horseman, who, in riding at full speed for the plate, is thrown from
the saddle in the middle of the race, and left without sense or motion
upon the plain.
His progress, though rapid, had been so short, that he could not be
supposed to have laid up store against such a day of trouble, and as he
still cherished hopes of surmounting those obstacles which had so
suddenly started up in his way, he would not resign his equipage nor
retrench his expenses, but appeared as usual in all public places with
that serenity and confidence of feature which he had never deposited,
and maintained his external pomp upon the little he had reserved in the
days of his prosperity, and the credit he had acquired by the
punctuality of his former payments. Both these funds, however, failed
in a very little time, his lawsuit was a gulf that swallowed up all his
ready money, and the gleanings of his practice were scarce sufficient
to answer his pocket expenses, which now increased in proportion to the
decrease of business, for, as he had more idle time, and was less
admitted into private families, so he thought he had more occasion to
enlarge his acquaintance among his own sex, who alone were able to
support him in his disgrace with the other. He accordingly listed
himself in several clubs, and endeavoured to monopolise the venereal
branch of trade, though this was but an indifferent resource, for
almost all his patients of this class were such as either could not, or
would not, properly recompense the physician.
For some time he lingered in this situation, without going upwards or
downwards, floating like a wisp of straw at the turning of the tide,
until he could no longer amuse the person of whom he had hired his
coach-horses, or postpone the other demands, which multiplied upon him
every day. Then was his chariot overturned with a hideous crash, and
his face so much wounded with the shivers of the glass, which went to
pieces in the fall, that he appeared in the coffee-house with half a
dozen black patches upon his countenance, gave a most circumstantial
detail of the risk he had run, and declared, that he did not believe he
should ever hazard himself again in any sort of wheel carriage.
Soon after this accident, he took an opportunity of telling his
friends, in the same public place, that he had turned away his footman
on account of his drunkenness, and was resolved, for the future, to
keep none but maids in his service, because the menservants are
generally impudent, lazy, debauched, or dishonest; and after all,
neither so neat, handy, or agreeable as the other sex. In the rear of
this resolution, he shifted his lodgings into a private court, being
distracted with the din of carriages, that disturb the inhabitants who
live towards the open street; and gave his acquaintance to understand,
that he had a medical work upon the anvil, which he could not finish
without being indulged in silence and tranquillity. In effect, he
gradually put on the exteriors of an author. His watch, with an
horizontal movement by Graham, which he had often mentioned, and shown
as a very curious piece of workmanship, began, about this time, to be
very much out of order, and was committed to the care of a mender, who
was in no hurry to restore it. His tie-wig degenerated into a major; he
sometimes appeared without a sword, and was even observed in public
with a second day’s shirt. At last, his clothes became rusty; and when
he walked about the streets, his head turned round in a surprising
manner, by an involuntary motion in his neck, which he had contracted
by a habit of reconnoitring the ground, that he might avoid all
dangerous or disagreeable encounters.
Fathom, finding himself descending the hill of fortune with an acquired
gravitation, strove to catch at every twig, in order to stop or retard
his descent. He now regretted the opportunities he had neglected, of
marrying one of several women of moderate fortune, who had made
advances to him in the zenith of his reputation; and endeavoured, by
forcing himself into a lower path of life than any he had hitherto
trod, to keep himself afloat, with the portion of some tradesman’s
daughter, whom he meant to espouse. While he exerted himself in this
pursuit, he happened, in returning from a place about thirty miles from
London, to become acquainted, in the stage-coach, with a young woman of
a very homely appearance, whom, from the driver’s information, he
understood to be the niece of a country justice, and daughter of a
soap-boiler, who had lived and died in London, and left her, in her
infancy, sole heiress of his effects, which amounted to four thousand
pounds. The uncle, who was her guardian, had kept her sacred from the
knowledge of the world, resolving to effect a match betwixt her and his
own son; and it was with much difficulty he had consented to this
journey, which she had undertaken as a visit to her own mother, who had
married a second husband in town.
Fraught with these anecdotes, Fathom began to put forth his gallantry
and good-humour, and, in a word, was admitted by the lady to the
privilege of an acquaintance, in which capacity he visited her during
the term of her residence in London; and, as there was no time to be
lost, declared his honourable intentions. He had such a manifest
advantage, in point of personal accomplishments, over the young
gentleman who was destined for her husband, that she did not disdain
his proposals; and, before she set out for the country, he had made
such progress in her heart, that the day was actually fixed for their
nuptials, on which he faithfully promised to carry her off in a coach
and six. How to raise money for this expedition was all the difficulty
that remained; for, by this time, his finances were utterly dried up,
and his credit altogether exhausted. Upon a very pressing occasion, he
had formerly applied himself to a certain wealthy quack, who had
relieved his necessities by lending him a small sum of money, in return
for having communicated to him a secret medicine, which he affirmed to
be the most admirable specific that ever was invented. The nostrum had
been used, and, luckily for him, succeeded in the trial; so that the
empiric, in the midst of his satisfaction, began to reflect, that this
same Fathom, who pretended to be in possession of a great many
remedies, equally efficacious, would certainly become a formidable
rival to him in his business, should he ever be able to extricate
himself from his present difficulties.
In consequence of these suggestions, he resolved to keep our
adventurer’s head under water, by maintaining him in the most abject
dependence. Accordingly he had, from time to time, accommodated him
with small trifles, which barely served to support his existence, and
even for these had taken notes of hand, that he might have a scourge
over his head, in case he should prove insolent or refractory. To this
benefactor Fathom applied for a reinforcement of twenty guineas, which
he solicited with the more confidence, as that sum would certainly
enable him to repay all other obligations. The quack would advance the
money upon no other condition, than that of knowing the scheme, which
being explained, he complied with Ferdinand’s request; but, at the same
time, privately despatched an express to the young lady’s uncle, with a
full account of the whole conspiracy; so that, when the doctor arrived
at the inn, according to appointment, he was received by his worship in
person, who gave him to understand, that his niece had changed her
mind, and gone fifty miles farther into the country to visit a
relation. This was a grievous disappointment to Fathom, who really
believed his mistress had forsaken him through mere levity and caprice,
and was not undeceived till several months after her marriage with her
cousin, when, at an accidental meeting in London, she explained the
story of the secret intelligence, and excused her marriage, as the
effect of rigorous usage and compulsion.
Had our hero been really enamoured of her person, he might have
probably accomplished his wishes, notwithstanding the steps she had
taken. But this was not the case. His passion was of a different
nature, and the object of it effectually without his reach. With regard
to his appetite for women, as it was an infirmity of his constitution,
which he could not overcome, and as he was in no condition to gratify
it at a great expense, he had of late chosen a housekeeper from the
hundreds of Drury, and, to avoid scandal, allowed her to assume his
name. As to the intimation which had been sent to the country justice,
he immediately imputed it to the true author, whom he marked for his
vengeance accordingly; but, in the meantime, suppressed his resentment,
because he in some measure depended upon him for subsistence. On the
other hand, the quack, dreading the forwardness and plausibility of our
hero, which might, one time or other, render him independent, put a
stop to those supplies, on pretence of finding them inconvenient; but,
out of his friendship and goodwill to Fathom, undertook to procure for
him such letters of recommendation as would infallibly make his fortune
in the West Indies, and even to set him out in a genteel manner for the
voyage. Ferdinand perceived his drift, and thanked him for his generous
offer, which he would not fail to consider with all due deliberation;
though he was determined against the proposal, but obliged to
temporise, that he might not incur the displeasure of this man, at
whose mercy he lay. Meanwhile the prosecution against him in Doctors’
Commons drew near a period, and the lawyers were clamorous for money,
without which, he foresaw he should lose the advantage which his cause
had lately acquired by the death of his antagonist’s chief evidence; he
therefore, seeing every other channel shut up, began to doubt, whether
the risk of being apprehended or slain in the character of a
highwayman, was not overbalanced by the prospect of being acquitted of
a charge which had ruined his reputation and fortune, and actually
entertained thoughts of taking the air on Hounslow Heath, when he was
diverted from this expedient by a very singular adventure.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
AFTER DIVERS UNSUCCESSFUL EFFORTS, HE HAS RECOURSE TO THE MATRIMONIAL
NOOSE.
Chancing to meet with one of his acquaintance at a certain
coffee-house, the discourse turned upon the characters of mankind,
when, among other oddities, his friend brought upon the carpet a
certain old gentlewoman of such a rapacious disposition, that, like a
jackdaw, she never beheld any metalline substance, without an
inclination, and even an effort to secrete it for her own use and
contemplation. Nor was this infirmity originally produced from
indigence, inasmuch as her circumstances had been always affluent, and
she was now possessed of a considerable sum of money in the funds;
notwithstanding which, the avarice of her nature tempted her to let
lodgings, though few people could live under the same roof with such an
original, who, rather than be idle, had often filched pieces of her own
plate, and charged her servants with the theft, or hinted suspicion of
her lodgers. Fathom, struck with the description, soon perceived how
this woman’s disease might be converted to his advantage; and after
having obtained sufficient intelligence, on pretence of satisfying his
curiosity, he visited the widow, in consequence of a bill at her door,
and actually hired an apartment in her house, whither he forthwith
repaired with his inamorata.
It was not long before he perceived that his landlady’s character had
not been misrepresented. He fed her distemper with divers
inconsiderable trinkets, such as copper medals, corkscrews, odd
buckles, and a paltry seal set in silver, which were, at different
times, laid as baits for her infirmity, and always conveyed away with
remarkable eagerness, which he and his Dulcinea took pleasure in
observing from an unsuspected place. Thus confirmed in his opinion, he,
at length, took an opportunity of exposing a metal watch that belonged
to his mistress, and saw it seized with great satisfaction, in the
absence of his helpmate, who had gone abroad on purpose. According to
instruction, she soon returned, and began to raise a terrible clamour
about the loss of her watch; upon which she was condoled by her
landlady, who seemed to doubt the integrity of the maid, and even
proposed that Mrs. Fathom should apply to some justice of the peace for
a warrant to search the servant’s trunk. The lady thanked her for the
good advice, in compliance with which she had immediate recourse to a
magistrate, who granted a search warrant, not against the maid, but the
mistress; and she, in a little time, returned with the constable at her
back.
These precautions being taken, Doctor Fathom desired a private
conference with the old gentlewoman, in which he gave her to
understand, that he had undoubted proofs of her having secreted, not
only the watch, but also several other odd things of less consequence,
which he lost since his residence in her house. He then showed the
warrant he had obtained against her, and asked if she had anything to
offer why the constable should not do his duty? Inexpressible were the
anguish and confusion of the defendant, when she found herself thus
entrapped, and reflected, that she was on the point of being detected
of felony; for she at once concluded, that the snare was laid for her,
and knew that the officer of justice would certainly find the unlucky
watch in one of the drawers of her scrutoire.
Tortured with these suggestions, afraid of public disgrace, and
dreading the consequence of legal conviction, she fell on her knees
before the injured Fathom, and, after having imputed her crime to the
temptations of necessity, implored his compassion, promised to restore
the watch, and everything she had taken, and begged he would dismiss
the constable, that her reputation might not suffer in the eye of the
world.
Ferdinand, with a severity of countenance purposely assumed, observed
that, were she really indigent, he had charity enough to forgive what
she had done; but, as he knew her circumstances were opulent, he looked
upon this excuse as an aggravation of her guilt, which was certainly
the effect of a vicious inclination; and he was therefore determined to
prosecute her with the utmost severity of the law, as an example and
terror to others, who might be infected with the same evil disposition.
Finding him deaf to all her tears and entreaties, she changed her note,
and offered him one hundred guineas, if he would compromise the affair,
and drop the prosecution, so as that her character should sustain no
damage. After much argumentation, he consented to accept of double the
sum, which being instantly paid in East India bonds, Doctor Fathom told
the constable, that the watch was found; and for once her reputation
was patched up. This seasonable supply enabled our hero to stand trial
with his adversary, who was nonsuited, and also to mend his external
appearance, which of late had not been extremely magnificent.