The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
While he thus enjoyed his pre-eminence, together with the fruits of his
success at play, which he managed so discreetly as never to incur the
reputation of an adventurer, he one day chanced to be at the ordinary,
when the company was surprised by the entrance of such a figure as had
never appeared before in that place. This was no other than a person
habited in the exact uniform of an English jockey. His leathern cap,
cut bob, fustian frock, flannel waistcoat, buff breeches, hunting-boots
and whip, were sufficient of themselves to furnish out a phenomenon for
the admiration of all Paris. But these peculiarities were rendered
still more conspicuous by the behaviour of the man who owned them. When
he crossed the threshold of the outward door, he produced such a sound
from the smack of his whip, as equalled the explosion of an ordinary
cohorn; and then broke forth into the halloo of a foxhunter, which he
uttered with all its variations, in a strain of vociferation that
seemed to astonish and confound the whole assembly, to whom he
introduced himself and his spaniel, by exclaiming, in a tone something
less melodious than the cry of mackerel or live cod, “By your leave,
gentlevolks, I hope there’s no offence, in an honest plain Englishman’s
coming with money in his pocket, to taste a bit of your Vrench frigasee
and ragooze.”
This declaration was made in such a wild, fantastical manner, that the
greatest part of the company mistook him for some savage monster or
maniac, and consulted their safety by starting up from table, and
drawing their swords. The Englishman, seeing such a martial apparatus
produced against him, recoiled two or three steps, saying, “Waunds! a
believe the people are all bewitched. What, do they take me for a beast
of prey? is there nobody here that knows Sir Stentor Stile, or can
speak to me in my own lingo?” He had no sooner pronounced these words,
than the baronet, with marks of infinite surprise, ran towards him,
crying, “Good Heaven! Sir Stentor, who expected to meet with you in
Paris?” Upon which, the other eyeing him very earnestly, “Odds
heartlikins!” cried he, “my neighbour, Sir Giles Squirrel, as I am a
living soul!” With these words he flew upon him like a tiger, kissed
him from ear to ear, demolished his periwig, and disordered the whole
economy of his dress, to the no small entertainment of the company.
Having well-nigh stifled his countryman with embraces, and besmeared
himself with pulville from head to foot, he proceeded in this manner,
“Mercy upon thee, knight, thou art so transmographied, and bedaubed,
and bedizened, that thou mought rob thy own mother without fear of
information. Look ye here now, I will be trussed, if the very bitch
that was brought up in thy own bosom knows thee again. Hey, Sweetlips,
here hussy, d—n the tuoad, dos’t n’t know thy old measter? Ey, ey, thou
may’st smell till Christmas, I’ll be bound to be hanged, knight, if the
creature’s nose an’t foundered by the d——d stinking perfumes you have
got among you.”
These compliments being passed, the two knights sat down by one
another, and Sir Stentor being asked by his neighbour, upon what errand
he had crossed the sea, gave him to understand, that he had come to
France, in consequence of a wager with Squire Snaffle, who had laid a
thousand pounds, that he, Sir Stentor, would not travel to Paris by
himself, and for a whole month appear every day at a certain hour in
the public walks, without wearing any other dress than that in which he
saw him. “The fellor has got no more stuff in his pate,” continued this
polite stranger, “than a jackass, to think I could not find my way
hither thof I could not jabber your French lingo. Ecod! the people of
this country are sharp enough to find out your meaning, when you want
to spend anything among them; and, as for the matter of dress,
bodikins! for a thousand pound, I would engage to live in the midst of
them, and show myself without any clothes at all. Odds heart! a
true-born Englishman needs not be ashamed to show his face, nor his
backside neither, with the best Frenchman that ever trod the ground.
Thof we Englishmen don’t beplaister our doublets with gold and silver,
I believe as how we have our pockets better lined than most of our
neighbours; and for all my bit of a fustian frock, that cost me in all
but forty shillings, I believe, between you and me, knight, I have more
dust in my fob, than all those powdered sparks put together. But the
worst of the matter is this; here is no solid belly-timber in this
country. One can’t have a slice of delicate sirloin, or nice buttock of
beef, for love nor money. A pize upon them! I could get no eatables
upon the ruoad, but what they called bully, which looks like the flesh
of Pharaoh’s lean kine stewed into rags and tatters; and then their
peajohn, peajohn, rabbet them! One would think every old woman of this
kingdom hatched pigeons from her own body.”
It is not to be supposed that such an original sat unobserved. The
French and other foreigners, who had never been in England, were struck
dumb with amazement at the knight’s appearance and deportment; while
the English guests were overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and kept
a most wary silence, for fear of being recognised by their countryman.
As for our adventurer, he was inwardly transported with joy at sight of
this curiosity. He considered him as a genuine, rich country booby, of
the right English growth, fresh as imported; and his heart throbbed
with rapture, when he heard Sir Stentor value himself upon the lining
of his pockets. He foresaw, indeed, that the other knight would
endeavour to reserve him for his own game; but he was too conscious of
his own accomplishments to think he should find great difficulty in
superseding the influence of Sir Giles.
Meanwhile, the new-comer was by his friend helped to some ragout, which
pleased his palate so well, that he declared he should now make a
hearty meal, for the first time since he had crossed the water; and,
while his good-humour prevailed, he drank to every individual around
the table. Ferdinand seized this opportunity of insinuating himself
into his favour, by saying in English, he was glad to find there was
anything in France that was agreeable to Sir Stentor. To this
compliment the knight replied with an air of surprise: “Waunds! I find
here’s another countryman of mine in this here company. Sir, I am proud
to see you with all my heart.” So speaking, he thrust out his right
hand across the table, and shook our hero by the fist, with such
violence of civility, as proved very grievous to a French marquis, who,
in helping himself to soup, was jostled in such a manner, as to
overturn the dividing-spoon in his own bosom. The Englishman, seeing
the mischief he had produced, cried, “No offence, I hope,” in a tone of
vociferation, which the marquis in all probability misconstrued; for he
began to model his features into a very sublime and peremptory look,
when Fathom interpreted the apology, and at the same time informed Sir
Stentor, that although he himself had not the honour of being an
Englishman, he had always entertained a most particular veneration for
the country, and learned the language in consequence of that esteem.
“Blood!” answered the knight, “I think myself the more obliged to you
for your kind opinion, than if you was my countryman in good earnest.
For there be abundance of we English—no offence, Sir Giles—that seem to
be ashamed of their own nation, and leave their homes to come and spend
their fortunes abroad, among a parcel of—you understand me, sir—a word
to the wise, as the saying is.”—Here he was interrupted by an article
of the second course, that seemed to give him great disturbance. This
was a roasted leveret, very strong of the fumet, which happened to be
placed directly under his nose. His sense of smelling was no sooner
encountered by the effluvia of this delicious fare, than he started up
from table, exclaiming, “Odd’s my liver! here’s a piece of carrion,
that I would not offer to e’er a hound in my kennel; ’tis enough to
make any Christian vomit both gut and gall;” and indeed by the wry
faces he made while he ran to the door, his stomach seemed ready to
justify this last assertion.
The abbe, who concluded, from these symptoms of disgust, that the
leveret was not sufficiently stale, began to exhibit marks of
discontent, and desired that it might be brought to the other end of
the table for his examination. He accordingly hung over it with the
most greedy appetite, feasting his nostrils with the steams of animal
putrefaction; and at length declared that the morceau was passable,
though he owned it would have been highly perfect, had it been kept
another week. Nevertheless, mouths were not wanting to discuss it,
insipid as it was; for in three minutes there was not a vestige to be
seen of that which had offended the organs of Sir Stentor, who now
resumed his place, and did justice to the dessert. But what he seemed
to relish better than any other part of the entertainment, was the
conversation of our adventurer, whom, after dinner, he begged to have
the honour of treating with a dish of coffee, to the seeming
mortification of his brother knight, over which Fathom exulted in his
own heart.
In short, our hero, by his affability and engaging deportment,
immediately gained possession of Sir Stentor’s good graces, insomuch,
that he desired to crack a bottle with him in the evening, and they
repaired to an auberge, whither his fellow-knight accompanied him, not
without manifest signs of reluctance. There the stranger gave a loose
to jollity; though at first he d—-ed the burgundy as a poor thin
liquor, that ran through him in a twinkling, and, instead of warming,
cooled his heart and bowels. However, it insensibly seemed to give the
lie to his imputation; for his spirits rose to a more elevated pitch of
mirth and good-fellowship; he sung, or rather roared, the Early Horn,
so as to alarm the whole neighbourhood, and began to slabber his
companions with a most bear-like affection. Yet whatever haste he made
to the goal of ebriety, he was distanced by his brother baronet, who
from the beginning of the party had made little other use of his mouth
than to receive the glass, and now sunk down upon the floor, in a state
of temporary annihilation.
He was immediately carried to bed by the direction of Ferdinand, who
now saw himself in a manner possessor of that mine to which he had made
such eager and artful advances. That he might, therefore, carry on the
approaches in the same cautious manner, he gradually shook off the
trammels of sobriety, gave a loose to that spirit of freedom which good
liquor commonly inspires, and, in the familiarity of drunkenness, owned
himself head of a noble family of Poland, from which he had been
obliged to absent himself on account of an affair of honour, not yet
compromised.
Having made this confession, and laid strong injunctions of secrecy
upon Sir Stentor, his countenance seemed to acquire from every
succeeding glass a new symptom of intoxication. They renewed their
embraces, swore eternal friendship from that day, and swallowed fresh
bumpers, till both being in all appearance quite overpowered, they
began to yawn in concert, and even nod in their chairs. The knight
seemed to resent the attacks of slumber, as so many impertinent
attempts to interrupt their entertainment; he cursed his own propensity
to sleep, imputing it to the d—-ed French climate, and proposed to
engage in some pastime that would keep them awake. “Odd’s flesh!” cried
the Briton, “when I’m at home, I defy all the devils in hell to fasten
my eyelids together, if so be as I’m otherwise inclined. For there’s
mother and sister Nan, and brother Numps and I, continue to divert