After making my way through the first two books of Tufts, I have begun to disregard my leaning towards any kind of "Republican" morality I was expecting to find in these narratives. In doing so, I have laughed out loud several times while reading this text. Because the plot moves so quickly, the string of events can be quite overwhelming. Here are the highlights for me:
I was rolling on the floor when I read the piece concerning the lobster claw. I am laughing still. Tufts says: "I had picked up, by chance, the small claw of a lobster, which I informed the people, as I passed along, was an enchanted horn; by virtue of which I could predict future events; but that, unfortunately, I had lost another horn, its counterpart, to which had been attached the rare property of enabling its possessor to foretel past events" (156-57). For me, the greatest impact of this text comes from the construction of language. The nonchalance which the author refers to events seems to perfectly characterize Tufts for what he is--a valiant thief and a cheat. Just think of it, really. Tufts, a handsome (he must be) young person, with probably some quite distinctive and archetypal feature (probably alarming eyes) waving a claw around in front of a bunch of 18th century country people. Or even more hilarious, imagine Tufts as a complete ragbag wielding a lobster claw. Now, imagine a man standing on the corner of an intersection (the one you pass everyday on your way home) waving this same lobster claw with a sign that says: "Magic Lobster Claw. Fortunes $10" Now imagine a line of people, "normal" people, standing in line waiting for their fortune.
Okay, sorry. Back to Academic Things.
The next scene I found equally intriguing occurs in Dover Jail, where Tufts is placed in custody for some theft of some cloth (211). For once, Tufts is experiencing some diffuculty in breaking out of jail. He tries three different times to squeeze through an opening he has made. Ricker, the slimmer of the two, fits through without hindrance. Tufts becomes so frustrated and desperate he uses some soap and "a piece of pork" "to lubricate the passage." Of course, he is completely naked and rather greasy when he arrives "feet foremost, into the street; receiving, in my decent to the ground, a most violent concussion, by a fall of twelve or more feet" (213). Talk about metaphor and imagery. Forgive me for this, but I could not help but think of the scene in Ace Ventura: Pet Detective when Jim Carrey forces his sweaty, naked body out of the faux rhino.
Okay, one more. Throughout the narrative, Tufts attempts to validate some of his thievery to necessity. However, sometimes Tufts simply shows a high taste for bawdy humor. Tufts temporarily sets up shop in Newmarket in the home of one Mr. Doe. While there, he sets out to retaliate against a doctor who has previously inflicted some "mischief" on Tufts. He convinces Doe that the doctor will shortly arrive to remedy Doe's head, which "is sometimes out of tune" (197). According to Tufts, "emasculation will be the only effectual remedy; he intends therefore, to come with suitable auxiliaries to perform on you that salutary operation" (197). When the doctor approaches, Doe beats the living day-lights out of him, even as he attempts to mount his horse.
To me, these most humorous events shed new light on the role of the "rouge narrative." Bad people can be funny. Considering the sexual exploits of Tufts are even more explicitly recounted in the second book, this narrative is sort of the Saturday Night Live (or some more applicable pop-culture humor of which I am not aware) of the 18th century. It's funny, bold and sometimes gross. It also tells us what not to do by doing it.
One more thing before I run out of time. Did anyone notice that everytime Tufts steals a horse, the reader knows about it. Most of the time, the horse is a mare. We also become aware of his female acquisitions of the human persuasion. Consider also, every time Tufts gets in a scrape, he simply whips out his pistols and threatens to blow so-and-so's brains out. Yet we never know whereby Tufts acquires the pistols.
Sigh. Boys...
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Hi Courtney, thanks for the good post. I agree that the construction of language is the one of the most interesting aspects of the text. Language, like dress, is used to alter appearance and make people believe. HT is always putting on and taking off language to suit his circumstances, which makes his final outrage at being cuckolded all the more humorous. The lobster claw is indeed humorous too, and meant to be, I think. Here the subtext is how easy it is to make people believe something. All you need is a prop for appearance and a good performance. Good blog! dw
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