The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
Monimia, provoked beyond the power of concealing her resentment, said,
she was heartily sorry to find herself under the necessity of telling
him, that, in the midst of her misfortunes, she could not help
remembering what she had been. Then, rising from her seat, with all the
dignity of displeasure, “Perhaps,” added she, “you have forgot who was
the father of the once happy Monimia.”
With these words she retired into another chamber, leaving our
adventurer confounded by the repulse he had sustained. Not that he was
discouraged from prosecuting his aim—on the contrary, this rebuff
seemed to add fresh vigour to his operations. He now thought it high
time to bring over Madam la Mer to his interest; and, to facilitate her
conversion, took an opportunity of bribing her with some inconsiderable
presents, after having amused her with a plausible tale of his passion
for Monimia, with whom she undertook the office of his mediatrix, on
the supposition that his intentions were honourable, and highly
advantageous to her lodger.
She was, first of all, invested with the office of obtaining pardon for
the offence he had given; and, in this negotiation she succeeded so
well, as to become an advocate for his suit; accordingly, she took all
occasions of magnifying his praise. His agreeable person was often the
subject of her discourse to the fair mourner. Her admiration dwelt upon
his politeness, good sense, and winning deportment; and she every day
retailed little stories of his benevolence and greatness of soul. The
defect in his birth she represented as a circumstance altogether
foreign from the consideration of his merit; especially in a nation
where such distinctions are as little respected as they will be in a
future state. She mentioned several persons of note, who basked in the
sunshine of power and fortune, without having enjoyed the least
hereditary assistance from their forefathers. One, she said, sprung
from the loins of an obscure attorney; another was the grandson of a
valet-de-chambre; a third was the issue of an accountant; and a fourth
the offspring of a woollen draper. All these were the children of their
own good works, and had raised themselves upon their personal virtues
and address; a foundation certainly more solid and honourable than a
vague inheritance derived from ancestors, in whose deserts they could
not be supposed to have borne the least share.
Monimia listened to all these arguments with great patience and
affability, though she at once dived into the source from which all
such insinuations flowed. She joined in the commendations of Fathom,
and owned herself a particular instance of that benevolence which the
old lady had so justly extolled; but, once for all, to prevent the
supplication which Madam la Mer was about to make, she solemnly
protested that her heart was altogether shut against any other earthly
engagement, and that her thoughts were altogether employed upon her
eternal salvation.
The assiduous landlady, perceiving the steadiness of her disposition,
thought proper to alter her method of proceeding, and, for the present,
suspended that theme by which she found her fair lodger disobliged.
Resolved to reconcile Monimia to life, before she would again recommend
Ferdinand to her love, she endeavoured to amuse her imagination, by
recounting the occasional incidents of the day, hoping gradually to
decoy her attention to those sublunary objects from which it had been
industriously weaned. She seasoned her conversation with agreeable
sallies; enlarged upon the different scenes of pleasure and diversion
appertaining to this great metropolis; practised upon her palate with
the delicacies of eating; endeavoured to shake her temperance with
repeated proffers and recommendations of certain cordials and
restoratives, which she alleged were necessary for the recovery of her
health; and pressed her to make little excursions into the fields that
skirt the town, for the benefit of air and exercise.
While this auxiliary plied the disconsolate Monimia on one hand, Fathom
was not remiss on the other. He now seemed to have sacrificed his
passion to her quiet; his discourse turned upon more indifferent
subjects. He endeavoured to dispel her melancholy with arguments drawn
from philosophy and religion. On some occasions, he displayed all his
fund of good humour, with a view to beguile her sorrow; he importuned
her to give him the pleasure of squiring her to some place of innocent
entertainment; and, finally, insisted upon her accepting a pecuniary
reinforcement to her finances, which he knew to be in a most
consumptive condition.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
MONIMIA’S HONOUR IS PROTECTED BY THE INTERPOSITION OF HEAVEN.
With that complacency and fortitude which were peculiar to herself,
this hapless stranger resisted all those artful temptations. Her
sustenance was barely such as exempted her from the guilt of being
accessory to her own death; her drink was the simple element. She
encouraged no discourse but that which turned upon the concerns of her
immortal part. She never went abroad, except in visits to a French
chapel in the neighbourhood; she refused the proffered assistance of
our adventurer with equal obstinacy and politeness, and with pleasure
saw herself wasting towards that period of mortality which was the
consummation of her wish. Yet her charms, far from melting away with
her constitution, seemed to triumph over the decays of nature. Her
shape and features still retained that harmony for which they had
always been distinguished. A mixture of majesty and sweetness diffused
itself in her looks, and her feebleness added to that soft and feminine
grace which attracts the sympathy, and engages the protection of every
humane beholder. The associates thus baffled in their attempts to
excite her ideas of pleasure, again shifted their plan, and resolved to
attack this forlorn beauty on the side of fear and mortification.
Our adventurer became less frequent in his visits, and more indifferent
in his language and deportment; while Madam la Mer gradually relaxed in
that complacency and respect with which she had hitherto behaved
towards her fair lodger. She even began to drop hints of disapprobation
and reproach against this pattern of innocence and beauty, and at
length grew bold enough to tell her, that her misfortunes could be
attributed to nothing but her own obstinacy and pride; that she had
been at great pains to disoblige the only person who was able and
willing to raise her above dependence; and that, if his protection
should be withdrawn, she must be exposed to the utmost extremity of
distress.
These insinuations, instead of producing the desired effect, inflamed
the indignation of Monimia, who, in a most dignified style of rebuke,
chid her for her indelicacy and presumption, observing, that she could
have no title to take such freedoms with lodgers, whose punctuality and
regular deportment left her no room to complain. Notwithstanding this
animated reply, she underwent the most deplorable anguish, when she
reflected upon the insolence of this woman, from whose barbarity she
had no resource; and, seeing no other possibility of redress than that
of appealing to the good offices of Fathom, she conquered her
reluctance so far, as to complain to him of Madam la Mer’s incivility.
Pleased with this application, he gave her to understand, with very
little ceremony or preamble, that it wholly depended upon herself
whether she should continue to be wretched, or be delivered at once
from all her cares and perplexity; that, notwithstanding the disdain
with which she had treated his addresses, he was still ready to lay
himself and his fortune at her feet; and that, if she should again
reject the disinterested proposal, the whole world and her own
conscience would charge upon herself whatever calamities she might be
subjected to in the sequel. Interpreting into a favourable hesitation
her silence, which was the result of wrath and amazement, he proceeded
to throw himself at her feet, and utter a romantic rhapsody, in the
course of which, laying aside all that restraint which he had hitherto
preserved, he seized her delicate hand, and pressed it to his lips;
nay, so far did he forget himself on this occasion, that he caught the
fair creature in his arms, and rudely ravished a kiss from those lips
which he had before contemplated with the most distant reverence of
desire.
Having thus broken down the fences of decorum, and being heated with
transport, he, in all probability, would have acted the part of young
Tarquin, and violated by force that sacred shrine of honour, beauty,
and unblemished truth, had not the wrath kindled by such an unexpected
outrage inspired her with strength and spirits sufficient to protect
her virtue, and intimidate the ruffian who could offer violence to such
perfection. She broke from his detested embrace with surprising
agility, and called aloud to her landlady for assistance; but that
discreet matron was resolved to hear nothing, and Fathom’s appetite
being whetted to a most brutal degree of eagerness, “Madam,” said he,
“all opposition is vain. What you have refused to my entreaties, you
shall yield to my power; and I am determined to force you to your own
advantage.”
So saying, he sprung towards her, with the most savage and impious
intent, when this amiable heroine snatching up his sword, which lay
upon a by-table, and unsheathing it instantaneously, presented the
point to his breast, and, while her eyes glanced with intolerable
keenness, “Villain!” cried she, “the spirit of my father animates my
bosom, and the vengeance of Heaven shall not be frustrated.” He was not
so much affected by his bodily danger, as awestruck at the manner of
her address, and the appearance of her aspect, which seemed to shine
with something supernatural, and actually disordered his whole
faculties, insomuch that he retreated without attempting to make the
least reply; and she, having secured the door after his departure, sat
down to ponder upon this shocking event.
Words are wanting to describe the accumulated horrors that took
possession of her mind, when she thus beheld all her presaging fears
realised, and found herself at the mercy of two wretches, who had now
pulled off the mask, after having lost all sentiments of humanity.
Common affliction was an agreeable reverie to what she suffered,
deprived of her parents, exiled from her friends and country, reduced
to the brink of wanting the most indispensable necessaries of life, in
a foreign land, where she knew not one person to whose protection she
could have recourse, from the inexpressible woes that environed her.
She complained to Heaven that her life was protracted, for the
augmentation of that misery which was already too severe to be endured;
for she shuddered at the prospect of being utterly abandoned in the
last stage of mortality, without one friend to close her eyes, or do
the last offices of humanity to her breathless corse. These were
dreadful reflections to a young lady who had been born to affluence and
splendour, trained up in all the elegance of education, by nature
fraught with that sensibility which refines the sentiment and taste,
and so tenderly cherished by her indulgent parents, that they suffered
not the winds of Heaven to visit her face too roughly.
Having passed the night in such agony, she rose at daybreak, and,
hearing the chapel bell toll for morning prayers, resolved to go to
this place of worship, in order to implore the assistance of Heaven.
She no sooner opened her chamber door, with this intent, than she was
met by Madam la Mer, who, after having professed her concern for what
had happened overnight, and imputed Mr. Fathom’s rudeness to the spirit