The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
the city and harbour. When he beheld the white cliffs of Albion, his
heart throbbed with all the joy of a beloved son, who, after a tedious
and fatiguing voyage, reviews the chimneys of his father’s house. He
surveyed the neighbouring coast of England with fond and longing eyes,
like another Moses, reconnoitring the land of Canaan from the top of
Mount Pisgah; and to such a degree of impatience was he inflamed by the
sight, that, instead of proceeding to Calais, he resolved to take his
passage directly from Boulogne, even if he should hire a vessel for the
purpose. With these sentiments, he inquired if there was any ship bound
for England, and was so fortunate as to find the master of a small
bark, who intended to weigh anchor for Deal that same evening at high
water.
Transported with this information, he immediately agreed for his
passage, sold the post-chaise to his landlord for thirty guineas, as a
piece of furniture for which he could have no further use, purchased a
portmanteau, together with some linen and wearing apparel, and, at the
recommendation of his host, took into his service an extra postillion
or helper, who had formerly worn the livery of a travelling marquis.
This new domestic, whose name was Maurice, underwent, with great
applause, the examination of our hero, who perceived in him a fund of
sagacity and presence of mind, by which he was excellently qualified
for being the valet of an adventurer. He was therefore accommodated
with a second-hand suit and another shirt, and at once listed under the
banners of Count Fathom, who spent the whole afternoon in giving him
proper instructions for the regulation of his conduct.
Having settled these preliminaries to his own satisfaction, he and his
baggage were embarked about six o’clock in the month of September, and
it was not without emotion that he found himself benighted upon the
great deep, of which, before the preceding day, he had never enjoyed
even the most distant prospect. However, he was not a man to be afraid,
where there was really no appearance of danger; and the agreeable
presages of future fortune supported his spirits, amidst the
disagreeable nausea which commonly attends landsmen at sea, until he
was set ashore upon the beach at Deal, which he entered in good health
about seven o’clock in the morning.
Like Caesar, however, he found some difficulty in landing, on account
of the swelling surf, that tumbled about with such violence as had
almost overset the cutter that carried him on shore; and, in his
eagerness to jump upon the strand, his foot slipped from the side of
the boat, so that he was thrown forwards in an horizontal direction,
and his hands were the first parts of him that touched English ground.
Upon this occasion, he, in imitation of Scipio’s behaviour on the coast
of Africa, hailed the omen, and, grasping a handful of the sand, was
heard to exclaim, in the Italian language: “Ah, ah, Old England, I have
thee fast.”
As he walked up to the inn, followed by Maurice loaded with his
portmanteau, he congratulated himself upon his happy voyage, and the
peaceable possession of his spoil, and could not help snuffing up the
British air with marks of infinite relish and satisfaction. His first
care was to recompense himself for the want of sleep he had undergone,
and, after he had sufficiently recruited himself with several hours of
uninterrupted repose, he set out in a post-chaise for Canterbury, where
he took a place in the London stage, which he was told would depart
next morning, the coach being already full. On this very first day of
his arrival, he perceived between the English and the people among whom
he had hitherto lived, such essential difference in customs,
appearance, and way of living, as inspired him with high notions of
that British freedom, opulence, and convenience, on which he had often
heard his mother expatiate. On the road, he feasted his eyesight with
the verdant hills covered with flocks of sheep, the fruitful vales
parcelled out into cultivated enclosures; the very cattle seemed to
profit by the wealth of their masters, being large, sturdy, and sleek,
and every peasant breathed the insolence of liberty and independence.
In a word, he viewed the wide-extended plains of Kent with a lover’s
eye, and, his ambition becoming romantic, could not help fancying
himself another conqueror of the isle.
He was not, however, long amused by these vain chimeras, which soon
vanished before other reflections of more importance and solidity. His
imagination, it must be owned, was at all times too chaste to admit
those overweening hopes, which often mislead the mind of the projector.
He had studied mankind with incredible diligence, and knew perfectly
well how far he could depend on the passions and foibles of human
nature. That he might now act consistent with his former sagacity, he
resolved to pass himself upon his fellow-travellers for a French
gentleman, equally a stranger to the language and country of England,
in order to glean from their discourse such intelligence as might avail
him in his future operations; and his lacquey was tutored accordingly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SOME ACCOUNT OF HIS FELLOW-TRAVELLERS.
Those who had taken places for the coach, understanding the sixth seat
was engaged by a foreigner, determined to profit by his ignorance; and,
with that politeness which is peculiar to this happy island, fixed
themselves in the vehicle, in such a manner, before he had the least
intimation of their design, that he found it barely practicable to
insinuate himself sidelong between a corpulent quaker and a fat Wapping
landlady, in which attitude he stuck fast, like a thin quarto between
two voluminous dictionaries on a bookseller’s shelf. And, as if the
pain and inconvenience of such compression was not sufficient matter of
chagrin, the greatest part of the company entertained themselves with
laughing at his ludicrous station.
The jolly dame at his left hand observed, with a loud exclamation of
mirth, that monsieur would be soon better acquainted with a buttock of
English beef; and said, by that time they should arrive at their
dining-place, he might be spitted without larding. “Yes, verily,”
replied Obadiah, who was a wag in his way, “but the swine’s fat will be
all on one side.”—“So much the better for you,” cried mine hostess,
“for that side is all your own.” The quaker was not so much
disconcerted by the quickness of this repartee, but that he answered
with great deliberation, “I thank thee for thy love, but will not
profit by thy loss, especially as I like not the savour of these
outlandish fowls; they are profane birds of passage, relished only by
the children of vanity, like thee.”
The plump gentlewoman took umbrage at this last expression, which she
considered as a double reproach, and repeated the words, “Children of
vanity!” with an emphasis of resentment. “I believe, if the truth were
known,” said she, “there’s more vanity than midriff in that great belly
of yours, for all your pretending to humility and religion. Sirrah! my
corporation is made up of good, wholesome, English fat; but you are
puffed up with the wind of vanity and delusion; and when it begins to
gripe your entrails, you pretend to have a motion, and then get up and
preach nonsense. Yet you’ll take it upon you to call your betters
children. Marry come up, Mr. Goosecap, I have got children that are as
good men as you, or any hypocritical trembler in England.”
A person who sat opposite to the quaker, hearing this remonstrance,
which seemed pregnant with contention, interposed in the conversation
with a conscious leer, and begged there might be no rupture between the
spirit and the flesh. By this remonstrance he relieved Obadiah from the
satire of this female orator, and brought the whole vengeance of her
elocution upon his own head. “Flesh!” cried she, with all the ferocity
of an enraged Thalestris; “none of your names, Mr. Yellowchaps. What! I
warrant you have an antipathy to flesh, because you yourself are
nothing but skin and bone. I suppose you are some poor starved
journeyman tailor come from France, where you have been learning to
cabbage, and have not seen a good meal of victuals these seven years.
You have been living upon rye-bread and soup-maigre, and now you come
over like a walking atomy with a rat’s tail at your wig, and a tinsey
jacket. And so, forsooth, you set up for a gentleman, and pretend to
find fault with a sirloin of roast beef.”
The gentleman heard this address with admirable patience, and when she
had rung out her alarm, very coolly replied, “Anything but your
stinking fish madam. Since when, I pray, have you travelled in
stage-coaches, and left off your old profession of crying oysters in
winter, and rotten mackerel in June? You was then known by the name of
Kate Brawn, and in good repute among the ale-houses in Thames Street,
till that unlucky amour with the master of a corn-vessel, in which he
was unfortunately detected by his own spouse; but you seem to have
risen by that fall; and I wish you joy of your present plight. Though,
considering your education on Bear Quay, you can give but a sorry
account of yourself.”
The Amazon, though neither exhausted nor dismayed, was really
confounded at the temper and assurance of this antagonist, who had
gathered all these anecdotes from the fertility of his own invention;
after a short pause, however, she poured forth a torrent of obloquy
sufficient to overwhelm any person who had not been used to take up
arms against such seas of trouble; and a dispute ensued, which would
have not only disgraced the best orators on the Thames, but even have
made a figure in the celebration of the Eleusinian mysteries, during
which the Athenian matrons rallied one another from different waggons,
with that freedom of altercation so happily preserved in this our age
and country.
Such a redundancy of epithets, and variety of metaphors, tropes, and
figures were uttered between these well-matched opponents, that an epic
bard would have found his account in listening to the contest; which,
in all probability, would not have been confined to words, had it not
been interrupted for the sake of a young woman of an agreeable
countenance and modest carriage; who, being shocked at some of their
flowers of speech, and terrified by the menacing looks and gestures of
the fiery-featured dame, began to scream aloud, and beg leave to quit
the coach. Her perturbation put an end to the high debate. The sixth
passenger, who had not opened his mouth, endeavoured to comfort her
with assurances of protection; the quaker proposed a cessation of arms;
the male disputant acquiesced in the proposal, assuring the company he
had entered the lists for their entertainment only, without acquiring
the least grudge or ill-will to the fat gentlewoman, whom he protested
he had never seen before that day, and who, for aught he knew, was a
person of credit and reputation. He then held forth his hand in token
of amity, and asked pardon of the offended party, who was appeased by
his submission; and, in testimony of her benevolence, presented to the
other female, whom she had discomposed, an Hungary-water bottle filled
with cherry-brandy, recommending it as a much more powerful remedy than
the sal-volatile which the other held to her nose.
Peace being thus re-established, in a treaty comprehending Obadiah and
all present, it will not be improper to give the reader some further
information, touching the several characters assembled in this vehicle.
The quaker was a London merchant, who had been at Deal superintending
the repairs of a ship which had suffered by a storm in the Downs. The
Wapping landlady was on her return from the same place, where she had