The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
altogether arbitrary; and Ratchcali, who was an exquisite lapidary, had
set it in such a manner as would have imposed upon any ordinary
jeweller. By these means of introduction, the Tyrolese soon monopolised
the custom of a great many noble families, upon which he levied large
contributions, without incurring the least suspicion of deceit. He
every day, out of pure esteem and gratitude for the honour of their
commands, entertained them with the sight of some new trinket, which he
was never permitted to carry home unsold; and from the profits of each
job, a tax was raised for the benefit of our adventurer.
Yet his indultos were not confined to the article of jewels, which
constituted only one part of his revenue. By the industry of his
understrapper, he procured a number of old crazy fiddles, which were
thrown aside as lumber; upon which he counterfeited the Cremona mark,
and otherwise cooked them up with great dexterity; so that, when he had
occasion to regale the lovers of music, he would send for one of these
vamped instruments, and extract from it such tones as quite ravished
the hearers; among whom there was always some conceited pretender, who
spoke in raptures of the violin, and gave our hero an opportunity of
launching out in its praise, and declaring it was the best Cremona he
had ever touched. This encomium never failed to inflame the desires of
the audience, to some one of whom he was generous enough to part with
it at prime cost—that is, for twenty or thirty guineas clear profit;
for he was often able to oblige his friends in this manner, because,
being an eminent connoisseur, his countenance was solicited by all the
musicians, who wanted to dispose of such moveables.
Nor did he neglect the other resources of a skilful virtuoso. Every
auction afforded some picture, in which, though it had been overlooked
by the ignorance of the times, he recognised the style of a great
master, and made a merit of recommending it to some noble friend. This
commerce he likewise extended to medals, bronzes, busts, intaglios, and
old china, and kept divers artificers continually employed in making
antiques for the English nobility. Thus he went on with such rapidity
of success in all his endeavours, that he himself was astonished at the
infatuation he had produced. Nothing was so wretched among the
productions of art, that he could not impose upon the world as a
capital performance; and so fascinated were the eyes of his admirers,
he could easily have persuaded them that a barber’s bason was an
Etrurian patera, and the cover of a copper pot no other than the shield
of Ancus Martius. In short, it was become so fashionable to consult the
Count in everything relating to taste and politeness, that not a plan
was drawn, not even a house furnished, without his advice and
approbation; nay, to such a degree did his reputation in these matters
excel, that a particular pattern of paper-hangings was known by the
name of Fathom; and his hall was every morning crowded with
upholsterers, and other tradesmen, who came, by order of their
employers, to learn his choice, and take his directions.
The character and influence he thus acquired, he took care to maintain
with the utmost assiduity and circumspection. He never failed to appear
the chief personage at all public diversions and private assemblies,
not only in conversation and dress, but also in the article of dancing,
in which he outstripped all his fellows, as far as in every other
genteel accomplishment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HE ATTRACTS THE ENVY AND ILL OFFICES OF THE MINOR KNIGHTS OF HIS OWN
ORDER, OVER WHOM HE OBTAINS A COMPLETE VICTORY.
Such a pre-eminence could not be enjoyed without exciting the
malevolence of envy and detraction, in the propagation of which none
were so industrious as the brethren of his own order, who had, like
him, made a descent upon this island, and could not, without repining,
see the whole harvest in the hands of one man, who, with equal art and
discretion, avoided all intercourse with their society. In vain they
strove to discover his pedigree, and detect the particular
circumstances of his life and conversation; all their inquiries were
baffled by the obscurity of his origin, and that solitary scheme which
he had adopted in the beginning of his career. The whole fruit of their
investigation amounted to no more than a certainty that there was no
family of any consideration in Europe known by the denomination of
Fathom; and this discovery they did not fail to divulge for the benefit
of our adventurer, who had by this time taken such firm root in the
favour of the great, as to set all those little arts at defiance; and
when the report reached his ear, actually made his friends merry with
the conjectures which had been circulated at his expense.
His adversaries, finding themselves disappointed in this effort, held a
consultation to devise other measures against him, and came to a
resolution of ending him by the sword, or rather of expelling him from
the kingdom by the fear of death, which they hoped he had not courage
enough to resist, because his deportment had always been remarkably
mild and pacific. It was upon this supposition that they left to the
determination of the dice the choice of the person who should execute
their plan; and the lot falling upon a Swiss, who, from the station of
a foot soldier in the Dutch service, out of which he had been drummed
for theft, had erected himself into the rank of a self-created
chevalier, this hero fortified himself with a double dose of brandy,
and betook himself to a certain noted coffee-house, with an intent to
affront Count Fathom in public.
He was lucky enough to find our adventurer sitting at a table in
conversation with some persons of the first rank; upon which he seated
himself in the next box, and after having intruded himself into their
discourse, which happened to turn upon the politics of some German
courts, “Count,” said he to Ferdinand, in a very abrupt and
disagreeable manner of address, “I was last night in company with some
gentlemen, among whom a dispute happened about the place of your
nativity; pray, what country are you of?” “Sir,” answered the other,
with great politeness, “I at present have the honour to be of England.”
“Oho!” replied the chevalier, “I ask your pardon, that is to say, you
are incog; some people may find it convenient to keep themselves in
that situation.” “True,” said the Count, “but some people are too well
known to enjoy that privilege.” The Swiss being a little disconcerted
at this repartee, which extracted a smile from the audience, after some
pause, observed, that persons of a certain class had good reason to
drop the remembrance of what they have been; but a good citizen will
not forget his country, or former condition. “And a bad citizen,” said
Fathom, “cannot, if he would, provided he has met with his deserts; a
sharper may as well forget the shape of a die, or a discarded soldier
the sound of a drum.”
As the chevalier’s character and story were not unknown, this
application raised an universal laugh at his expense, which provoked
him to such a degree, that, starting up, he swore Fathom could not have
mentioned any object in nature that he himself resembled so much as a
drum, which was exactly typified by his emptiness and sound, with this
difference, however, that a drum was never noisy till beaten, whereas
the Count would never be quiet, until he should have undergone the same
discipline. So saying, he laid his hand upon his sword with a menacing
look, and walked out as if in expectation of being followed by our
adventurer, who suffered himself to be detained by the company, and
very calmly took notice, that his antagonist would not be ill pleased
at their interposition. Perhaps he would not have comported himself
with such ease and deliberation, had not he made such remarks upon the
disposition of the chevalier, as convinced him of his own safety. He
had perceived a perplexity and perturbation in the countenance of the
Swiss, when he first entered the coffee-room; his blunt and precipitate
way of accosting him seemed to denote confusion and compulsion; and, in
the midst of his ferocity, this accurate observer discerned the
trepidation of fear. By the help of these signs, his sagacity soon
comprehended the nature of his schemes, and prepared accordingly for a
formal defiance.
His conjecture was verified next morning by a visit from the chevalier,
who, taking it for granted that Fathom would not face an adversary in
the field, because he had not followed him from the coffee-house, went
to his lodgings with great confidence, and demanded to see the Count
upon an affair that would admit of no delay. Maurice, according to his
instructions, told him that his master was gone out, but desired he
would have the goodness to repose himself in the parlour, till the
Count’s return, which he expected every moment. Ferdinand, who had
taken post in a proper place for observation, seeing his antagonist
fairly admitted, took the same road, and appearing before him, wrapped
up in a long Spanish cloak, desired to know what had procured him the
honour of such an early visit. The Swiss, raising his voice to conceal
his agitation, explained his errand, in demanding reparation for the
injury his honour had sustained the preceding day, in that odious
allusion to a scandalous report which had been raised by the malice of
his enemies; and insisted, in a very imperious style, upon his
attending him forthwith to the nursery in Hyde Park. “Have a little
patience,” said our adventurer with great composure, “and I will do
myself the pleasure to wait upon you in a few moments.”
With these words, he rang the bell, and, calling for a bason of water,
laid aside his cloak, and displayed himself in his shirt, with a sword
in his right hand, which was all over besmeared with recent blood, as
if he had just come from the slaughter of a foe. This phenomenon made
such an impression upon the astonished chevalier, already discomposed
by the resolute behaviour of the Count, that he became jaundiced with
terror and dismay, and, while his teeth chattered in his head, told our
hero he had hoped, from his known politeness, to have found him ready
to acknowledge an injury which might have been the effect of anger or
misapprehension, in which case the affair might have been compromised
to their mutual satisfaction, without proceeding to those extremities
which, among men of honour, are always accounted the last resource. To
this representation Ferdinand answered, that the affair had been of the
chevalier’s own seeking, inasmuch as he had intruded himself into his
company, and treated him with the most insolent and unprovoked abuse,
which plainly flowed from a premeditated design against his honour and
reputation; he, therefore, far from being disposed to own himself in
the wrong, would not even accept of a public acknowledgment from him,
the aggressor, whom he looked upon as an infamous sharper, and was
resolved to chastise accordingly.
Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a person who
was brought to the door in a chair, and conducted into another
apartment, from which a message was brought to the Count, importing,
that the stranger desired to speak with him upon business of the last
importance. Fathom having chid the servant for admitting people without
his order, desired the Swiss to excuse him for a minute longer, and
went in to the next room, from whence the following dialogue was
overheard by this challenger:—“Count,” said the stranger, “you are not
ignorant of my pretensions to the heart of that young lady, at whose
house I met you yesterday; therefore you cannot be surprised when I