The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
attended the payment of a man-of-war, with sundry powers of attorney,
granted by the sailors, who had lived upon credit at her house. Her
competitor in fame was a dealer in wine, a smuggler of French lace, and
a petty gamester just arrived from Paris, in the company of an English
barber, who sat on his right hand, and the young woman was daughter of
a country curate, in her way to London, where she was bound apprentice
to a milliner.
Hitherto Fathom had sat in silent astonishment at the manners of his
fellow-travellers, which far exceeded the notions he had preconceived
of English plainness and rusticity. He found himself a monument of that
disregard and contempt which a stranger never fails to meet with from
the inhabitants of this island; and saw, with surprise, an agreeable
young creature sit as solitary and unheeded as himself.
He was, indeed, allured by the roses of her complexion, and the
innocence of her aspect, and began to repent of having pretended
ignorance of the language, by which he was restrained from exercising
his eloquence upon her heart; he resolved, however, to ingratiate
himself, if possible, by the courtesy and politeness of dumb show, and
for that purpose put his eyes in motion without farther delay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ANOTHER PROVIDENTIAL DELIVERANCE FROM THE EFFECTS OF THE SMUGGLER’S
INGENIOUS CONJECTURE.
During these deliberations, the wine merchant, with a view to make a
parade of his superior parts and breeding, as well as to pave the way
for a match at backgammon, made a tender of his snuff-box to our
adventurer, and asked, in bad French, how he travelled from Paris. This
question produced a series of interrogations concerning the place of
Ferdinand’s abode in that city, and his business in England, so that he
was fain to practise the science of defence, and answered with such
ambiguity, as aroused the suspicion of the smuggler, who began to
believe our hero had some very cogent reason for evading his curiosity;
he immediately set his reflection at work, and, after various
conjectures, fixed upon Fathom’s being the Young Pretender. Big with
this supposition, he eyed him with the most earnest attention,
comparing his features with those of the Chevalier’s portrait which he
had seen in France, and though the faces were as unlike as any two
human faces could be, found the resemblance so striking as to dispel
all his doubts, and persuade him to introduce the stranger to some
justice on the road; a step by which he would not only manifest his
zeal for the Protestant succession, but also acquire the splendid
reward proposed by parliament to any person who should apprehend that
famous adventurer.
These ideas intoxicated the brain of this man to such a pitch of
enthusiasm, that he actually believed himself in possession of the
thirty thousand pounds, and amused his fancy with a variety of
magnificent projects to be executed by means of that acquisition, until
his reverie was interrupted by the halting of the coach at the inn
where the passengers used to eat their breakfasts. Waked as he was from
the dream of happiness, it had made such impression upon his mind,
that, seeing Fathom rise up with an intention to alight, he took it for
granted his design was to escape, and seizing him by the collar, called
aloud for assistance in the King’s name.
Our hero, whose sagacity and presence of mind very often supplied the
place of courage, instead of being terrified at this assault, which
might have disturbed the tranquillity of an ordinary villain, was so
perfectly master of every circumstance of his own situation, as to know
at once that the aggressor could not possibly have the least cause of
complaint against him; and therefore, imputing this violence either to
madness or mistake, very deliberately suffered himself to be made
prisoner by the people of the house, who ran to the coach door in
obedience to the summons of the wine merchant. The rest of the company
were struck dumb with surprise and consternation at this sudden
adventure; and the quaker, dreading some fell resistance on the side of
the outlandish man, unpinned the other coach door in the twinkling of
an eye, and trundled himself into the mud for safety. The others,
seeing the temper and resignation of the prisoner, soon recovered their
recollection, and began to inquire into the cause of his arrest, upon
which, the captor, whose teeth chattered with terror and impatience,
gave them to understand that he was a state criminal, and demanded
their help in conveying him to justice.
Luckily for both parties, there happened to be at the inn a company of
squires just returned from the death of a leash of hares, which they
had ordered to be dressed for dinner, and among these gentlemen was one
of the quorum, to whom the accuser had immediate recourse, marching
before the captive, who walked very peaceably between the landlord and
one of his waiters, and followed by a crowd of spectators, some of whom
had secured the faithful Maurice, who in his behaviour closely imitated
the deliberation of his master. In this order did the procession
advance to the apartment in which the magistrate, with his fellows of
the chase, sat smoking his morning pipe over a tankard of strong ale,
and the smuggler being directed to the right person, “May it please
your worship,” said he, “I have brought this foreigner before you, on a
violent suspicion of his being a proclaimed outlaw; and I desire,
before these witnesses, that my title may be made good to the reward
that shall become due upon his conviction.”
“Friend,” replied the justice, “I know nothing of you or your titles;
but this I know, if you have any information to give in, you must come
to my house when I am at home, and proceed in a lawful way, that is,
d’ye mind me, if you swear as how this here person is an outlaw; then
if so be as he has nothing to say to the contrary, my clerk shall make
out a mittimus, and so to jail with him till next ’size.” “But, sir,”
answered the impeacher, “this is a case that admits of no delay; the
person I have apprehended is a prisoner of consequence to the state.”
“How, fellor!” cried the magistrate, interrupting him, “is there any
person of more consequence than one of his Majesty’s justices of the
peace, who is besides a considerable member of the landed interest!
D’ye know, sirrah, who you are talking to? If you don’t go about your
business, I believe I shall lay you by the heels.”
The smuggler, fearing his prize would escape through the ignorance,
pride, and obstinacy of this country justice, approached his worship,
and in a whisper which was overheard by all the company, assured him he
had indubitable reason to believe the foreigner was no other than the
Pretender’s eldest son. At mention of this formidable name, every
individual of the audience started, with signs of terror and amazement.
The justice dropped his pipe, recoiled upon his chair, and, looking
most ridiculously aghast, exclaimed, “Seize him, in the name of God and
his Majesty King George! Has he got no secret arms about him!”
Fathom being thus informed of the suspicion under which he stood, could
not help smiling at the eagerness with which the spectators flew upon
him, and suffered himself to be searched with great composure, well
knowing they would find no moveables about his person, but such as upon
examination would turn to his account; he therefore very calmly
presented to the magistrate his purse, and a small box that contained
his jewels, and in the French language desired they might be preserved
from the hands of the mob. This request was interpreted by the accuser,
who, at the same time, laid claim to the booty. The justice took charge
of the deposit, and one of his neighbours having undertaken the office
of clerk, he proceeded to the examination of the culprit, whose papers
were by this time laid on the table before him. “Stranger,” said he,
“you stand charged with being son of the Pretender to these realms;
what have you to say in your own defence?” Our hero assured him, in the
French language, that he was falsely impeached, and demanded justice on
the accuser, who, without the least reason, had made such a malicious
attack upon the life and honour of an innocent gentleman.
The smuggler, instead of acting the part of a faithful interpreter,
told his worship, that the prisoner’s answer was no more than a simple
denial, which every felon would make who had nothing else to plead in
his own behalf, and that this alone was a strong presumption of his
guilt, because, if he was not really the person they suspected him to
be, the thing would speak for itself, for, if he was not the Young
Pretender, who then was he? This argument had great weight with the
justice, who, assuming a very important aspect, observed, “Very true,
friend, if you are not the Pretender, in the name of God, who are you?
One may see with half an eye that he is no better than a promiscuous
fellow.”
Ferdinand now began to repent of having pretended ignorance of the
English language, as he found himself at the mercy of a rascal, who put
a false gloss upon all his words, and addressed himself to the audience
successively in French, High Dutch, Italian, and Hungarian Latin,
desiring to know if any person present understood any of these tongues,
that his answers might be honestly explained to the bench. But he might
have accosted them in Chinese with the same success: there was not one
person present tolerably versed in his mother-tongue, much less
acquainted with any foreign language, except the wine merchant, who,
incensed at this appeal, which he considered as an affront to his
integrity, gave the judge to understand, that the delinquent, instead
of speaking to the purpose, contumaciously insulted his authority in
sundry foreign lingos, which he apprehended was an additional proof of
his being the Chevalier’s son, inasmuch as no person would take the
pains to learn such a variety of gibberish, except with some sinister
intent.
This annotation was not lost upon the squire, who was too jealous of
the honour of his office to overlook such a flagrant instance of
contempt. His eyes glistened, his cheeks were inflated with rage. “The
case is plain,” said he; “having nothing of signification to offer in
his own favour, he grows refractory, and abuses the court in his base
Roman Catholic jargon; but I’ll let you know, for all you pretend to be
a prince, you are no better than an outlawed vagrant, and I’ll show you
what a thing you are when you come in composition with an English
justice, like me, who have more than once extinguished myself in the
service of my country. As nothing else accrues, your purse, black box,
and papers shall be sealed up before witnesses, and sent by express to
one of his Majesty’s secretaries of state; and, as for yourself, I will
apply to the military at Canterbury, for a guard to conduct you to
London.”
This was a very unwelcome declaration to our adventurer, who was on the
point of haranguing the justice and spectators in their own language,
when he was relieved from the necessity of taking that step by the
interposition of a young nobleman just arrived at the inn, who, being
informed of this strange examination, entered the court, and, at first
sight of the prisoner, assured the justice he was imposed upon; for
that he himself had often seen the Young Pretender in Paris, and that
there was no kind of resemblance between that adventurer and the person
now before him. The accuser was not a little mortified at his
lordship’s affirmation, which met with all due regard from the bench,
though the magistrate took notice, that, granting the prisoner was not
the Young Chevalier himself, it was highly probable he was an emissary