The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
composition, by which all the miseries of life are so easily cured!
Such was the fate of Antonia and Serafina; these hands were the
instruments that deprived them of life, these eyes beheld them the
richest prize that death had ever won. Powers supreme! does Don Diego
live to make this recapitulation? I have done my duty; but ah! I am
haunted by the furies of remorse; I am tortured with the incessant
stings of remembrance and regret; even now the images of my wife and
daughter present themselves to my imagination. All the scenes of
happiness I have enjoyed as a lover, husband, and parent, all the
endearing hopes I have cherished, now pass in review before me,
embittering the circumstances of my inexpressible woe; and I consider
myself as a solitary outcast from all the comforts of society. But,
enough of these unmanly complaints; the yearnings of nature are too
importunate.
Having completed my vengeance, I retired into my closet, and,
furnishing myself with some ready money and jewels of considerable
value, went into the stable, saddled my favourite steed, which I
instantly mounted, and, before the tumults of my breast subsided, found
myself at the town of St. Lucar. There I learned from inquiry, that
there was a Dutch bark in the harbour ready to sail; upon which I
addressed myself to the master, who, for a suitable gratification, was
prevailed upon to weigh anchor that same night; so that, embarking
without delay, I soon bid eternal adieu to my native country. It was
not from reason and reflection that I took these measures for my
personal safety; but, in consequence of an involuntary instinct, that
seems to operate in the animal machine, while the faculty of thinking
is suspended.
To what a dreadful reckoning was I called, when reason resumed her
function! You may believe me, my friend, when I assure you, that I
should not have outlived those tragedies I acted, had I not been
restrained from doing violence upon myself by certain considerations,
which no man of honour ought to set aside. I could not bear the thought
of falling ingloriously by the hand of an executioner, and entailing
disgrace upon a family that knew no stain; and I was deterred from
putting an end to my own misery, by the apprehension of posthumous
censure, which would have represented me as a desponding wretch,
utterly destitute of that patience, fortitude, and resignation, which
are the characteristics of a true Castilian. I was also influenced by
religious motives that suggested to me the necessity of living to
atone, by my sufferings and sorrow, for the guilt I had incurred in
complying with a savage punctilio, which is, I fear, displeasing in the
sight of Heaven.
These were the reasons that opposed my entrance into that peaceful
harbour which death presented to my view; and they were soon reinforced
by another principle that sanctioned my determination to continue at
the servile oar of life. In consequence of unfavourable winds, our
vessel for some days made small progress in her voyage to Holland, and
near the coast of Gallicia we were joined by an English ship from Vigo,
the master of which gave us to understand, that before he set sail, a
courier had arrived from Madrid at that place, with orders for the
corregidore to prevent the escape of any native Spaniard by sea from
any port within his district; and to use his utmost endeavours to
apprehend the person of Don Diego de Zelos, who was suspected of
treasonable practices against the state. Such an order, with a minute
description of my person, was at the same time despatched to all the
seaports and frontier places in Spain.
You may easily suppose how I, who was already overwhelmed with
distress, could bear this aggravation of misfortune and disgrace: I,
who had always maintained the reputation of loyalty, which was acquired
at the hazard of my life, and the expense of my blood. To deal
candidly, I must own, that this intelligence roused me from a lethargy
of grief which had begun to overpower my faculties. I immediately
imputed this dishonourable charge to the evil offices of some villain,
who had basely taken the advantage of my deplorable situation, and I
was inflamed, inspirited with the desire of vindicating my fame, and
revenging the injury. Thus animated, I resolved to disguise myself
effectually from the observation of those spies which every nation
finds its account in employing in foreign countries; I purchased this
habit from the Dutch navigator, in whose house I kept myself concealed,
after our arrival at Amsterdam, until my beard was grown to a
sufficient length to favour my design, and then appeared as a Persian
dealer in jewels. As I could gain no satisfactory information touching
myself in this country, had no purpose to pursue, and was extremely
miserable among a people, who, being mercenary and unsocial, were very
ill adapted to alleviate the horrors of my condition, I gratified my
landlord for his important services, with the best part of my effects;
and having, by his means, procured a certificate from the magistracy,
repaired to Rotterdam, from whence I set out in a travelling carriage
for Antwerp, on my way to this capital; hoping, with a succession of
different objects, to mitigate the anguish of my mind, and by the most
industrious inquiry, to learn such particulars of that false
impeachment, as would enable me to take measures for my own
justification, as well as for projecting a plan of revenge against the
vile perfidious author.
This, I imagined, would be no difficult task, considering the
friendship and intercourse subsisting between the Spanish and French
nations, and the communicative disposition for which the Parisians are
renowned; but I have found myself egregiously deceived in my
expectation. The officers of police in this city are so inquisitive and
vigilant that the most minute action of a stranger is scrutinised with
great severity; and, although the inhabitants are very frank in
discoursing on indifferent subjects, they are at the same time
extremely cautious in avoiding all conversation that turns upon state
occurrences and maxims of government. In a word, the peculiarity of my
appearance subjects me so much to particular observation, that I have
hitherto thought proper to devour my griefs in silence, and even to
bear the want of almost every convenience, rather than hazard a
premature discovery, by offering my jewels to sale.
In this emergency I have been so far fortunate as to become acquainted
with you, whom I look upon as a man of honour and humanity. Indeed, I
was at first sight prepossessed in your favour, for, notwithstanding
the mistakes which men daily commit in judging from appearances, there
is something in the physiognomy of a stranger from which one cannot
help forming an opinion of his character and disposition. For once, my
penetration hath not failed me; your behaviour justifies my decision;
you have treated me with that sympathy and respect which none but the
generous will pay to the unfortunate. I have trusted you accordingly. I
have put my life, my honour, in your power; and I must beg leave to
depend upon your friendship, for obtaining that satisfaction for which
alone I seek to live. Your employment engages you in the gay world; you
daily mingle with the societies of men; the domestics of the Spanish
ambassador will not shun your acquaintance; you may frequent the
coffee-houses to which they resort; and, in the course of these
occasions, unsuspected inform yourself of that mysterious charge which
lies heavy on the fame of the unfortunate Don Diego. I must likewise
implore your assistance in converting my jewels into money, that I may
breathe independent of man, until Heaven shall permit me to finish this
weary pilgrimage of life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A FLAGRANT INSTANCE OF FATHOM’S VIRTUE, IN THE MANNER OF HIS RETREAT TO
ENGLAND.
Fathom, who had lent an attentive ear to every circumstance of this
disastrous story, no sooner heard it concluded, than, with an aspect of
generous and cordial compassion, not even unattended with tears, he
condoled the lamentable fate of Don Diego de Zelos, deplored the
untimely death of the gentle Antonia and the fair Serafina, and
undertook the interest of the wretched Castilian with such warmth of
sympathising zeal, as drew a flood from his eyes, while he wrung his
benefactor’s hand in a transport of gratitude. Those were literally
tears of joy, or at least of satisfaction, on both sides; as our hero
wept with affection and attachment to the jewels that were to be
committed to his care; but, far from discovering the true source of his
tenderness, he affected to dissuade the Spaniard from parting with the
diamonds, which he counselled him to reserve for a more pressing
occasion; and, in the meantime, earnestly entreated him to depend upon
his friendship for present relief.
This generous proffer served only to confirm Don Diego’s resolution,
which he forthwith executed, by putting into the hands of Ferdinand
jewels to the value of a thousand crowns, and desiring him to detain
for his own use any part of the sum they would raise. Our adventurer
thanked him for the good opinion he entertained of his integrity, an
opinion fully manifested in honouring him with such important
confidence, and assured him he would transact his affairs with the
utmost diligence, caution, and despatch. The evening being by this time
almost consumed, these new allies retired separately to rest; though
each passed the night without repose, in very different reflections,
the Castilian being, as usual, agitated with the unceasing pangs of his
unalterable misery, interspersed with gleaming hopes of revenge; and
Fathom being kept awake with revolving plans for turning his
fellow-lodger’s credulity to his own advantage. From the nature of the
Spaniard’s situation, he might have appropriated the jewels to himself,
and remained in Paris without fear of a prosecution, because the
injured party had, by the above narrative, left his life and liberty at
discretion.—But he did not think himself secure from the personal
resentment of an enraged desperate Castilian; and therefore determined
to withdraw himself privately into that country where he had all along
proposed to fix the standard of his finesse, which fortune had now
empowered him to exercise according to his wish.
Bent upon this retreat, he went abroad in the morning, on pretence of
acting in the concerns of his friend Don Diego, and having hired a
post-chaise to be ready at the dawning of next day, returned to his
lodgings, where he cajoled the Spaniard with a feigned report of his
negotiation; then, securing his most valuable effects about his person,
arose with the cock, repaired to the place at which he had appointed to
meet the postillion with the carriage, and set out for England without
further delay, leaving the unhappy Zelos to the horrors of indigence,
and the additional agony of this fresh disappointment. Yet he was not
the only person affected by the abrupt departure of Fathom, which was
hastened by the importunities, threats, and reproaches of his
landlord’s daughter, whom he had debauched under promise of marriage,
and now left in the fourth month of her pregnancy.
Notwithstanding the dangerous adventure in which he had been formerly
involved by travelling in the night, he did not think proper to make
the usual halts on this journey, for sleep or refreshment, nor did he
once quit the chaise till his arrival at Boulogne, which he reached in
twenty hours after his departure from Paris. Here he thought he might
safely indulge himself with a comfortable meal; accordingly he bespoke
a poulard for dinner, and while that was preparing, went forth to view