The Expedition of Humphry ClinkerSmollett, T. (Tobias)
General
The Expedition of Humphry Clinker
Smollett, T. (Tobias)
Epistolary fiction; Great Britain -- Fiction; Travelers -- Fiction
We made a precipitate retreat from Scarborough, owing to the excessive
delicacy of our ‘squire, who cannot bear the thoughts of being
proetereuntium digito monstratus.
One morning, while he was bathing in the sea, his man Clinker took it
in his head that his master was in danger of drowning; and, in this
conceit, plunging into the water, he lugged him out naked on the beach,
and almost pulled off his ear in the operation. You may guess how this
atchievement was relished by Mr Bramble, who is impatient, irascible,
and has the most extravagant ideas of decency and decorum in the
oeconomy of his own person--In the first ebullition of his choler, he
knocked Clinker down with his fist; but he afterwards made him amends
for his outrage, and, in order to avoid further notice of the people,
among whom this incident had made him remarkable, he resolved to leave
Scarborough next day.
We set out accordingly over the moors, by the way of Whitby, and began
our journey betimes, in hopes of reaching Stockton that night; but
in this hope we were disappointed--In the afternoon, crossing a deep
gutter, made by a torrent, the coach was so hard strained, that one of
the irons, which connect the frame, snapt, and the leather sling on the
same side, cracked in the middle. The shock was so great, that my sister
Liddy struck her head against Mrs Tabitha’s nose with such violence that
the blood flowed; and Win. Jenkins was darted through a small window in
that part of the carriage next the horses, where she stuck like a bawd
in the pillory, till she was released by the hand of Mr Bramble. We
were eight miles distant from any place where we could be supplied with
chaises, and it was impossible to proceed with the coach, until the
damage should be repaired--in this dilemma, we discovered a blacksmith’s
forge on the edge of a small common, about half a mile from the scene
of our disaster, and thither the postilions made shift to draw the
carriage, slowly, while the company walked a-foot; but we found the
black-smith had been dead some days; and his wife, who had been lately
delivered, was deprived of her senses, under the care of a nurse, hired
by the parish. We were exceedingly mortified at this disappointment,
which, however, was surmounted by the help of Humphry Clinker, who is a
surprising compound of genius and simplicity. Finding the tools of
the defunct, together with some coals in the smithy, he unscrewed the
damaged iron in a twinkling, and, kindling a fire, united the broken
pieces with equal dexterity and dispatch--While he was at work upon
this operation, the poor woman in the straw, struck with the well-known
sound of the hammer and anvil, started up, and, notwithstanding all the
nurse’s efforts, came running into the smithy, where, throwing her arms
about Clinker’s neck, ‘Ah, Jacob (cried she) how could you leave me in
such a condition?’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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