Our adventurer hearing himself thus addressed, and seeing his rival, who had passed him, posted to obstruct11 his progress, armed cap-a-pee, with his lance in the rest, determined12 to give the satisfaction that was required, and desired that the regulations of the combat might be established. The knight of the Griffin proposed, that the vanquished13 party should resign all pretensions14 to Miss Aurelia Darnel, in favour of the victor; that, while the principals were engaged, his friend Dawdle should run a tilt15 with Captain Crowe; that Squire16 Crabshaw and Mr. Sycamore’s servant should keep themselves in readiness to assist their respective masters occasionally, according to the law of arms; and that Mr. Clarke should observe the motions of the trumpeter, whose province was to sound the charge to battle.
Our knight agreed to these regulations, notwithstanding the earnest and pathetic remonstrances18 of the young lawyer, who, with tears in his eyes, conjured19 all the combatants, in their turns, to refrain from an action that might be attended with bloodshed and murder; and was contrary to the laws both of God and man. In vain he endeavoured to move them by tears and entreaties20, by threatening them with prosecutions21 in this world, and pains and penalties in the next. They persisted in their resolution, and his uncle would have begun hostilities23 on his carcase, had he not been prevented by Sir Launcelot, who exhorted24 Clarke to retire from the field, that he might not be involved in the consequences of the combat. He relished25 this advice so well, that he had actually moved off to some distance; but his apprehensions26 and concern for his friends co-operating with an insatiable curiosity, detained him in sight of the engagement.
The two knights having fairly divided the ground, and the same precautions being taken by the seconds on another part of the field, Sycamore began to be invaded with some scruples27, which were probably engendered28 by the martial29 appearance and well-known character of his antagonist30. The confidence which he derived31 from the reluctance32 of Sir Launcelot now vanished, because it plainly appeared, that the knight’s backwardness was not owing to personal timidity; and he foresaw that the prosecution22 of this joke might be attended with very serious consequences to his own life and reputation. He therefore desired a parley34, in which he observed his affection for Miss Darnel was of such a delicate nature, that, should the discomfiture35 of his rival contribute to make her unhappy, his victory must render him the most miserable36 wretch37 upon earth. He proposed, therefore, that her sentiments and choice should be ascertained38 before they proceeded to extremity39.
Sir Launcelot declared that he was much more afraid of combating Aurelia’s inclination40, than of opposing the knight of the Griffin in arms; and that if he had the least reason to think Mr. Sycamore, or any other person, was distinguished41 by her preference, he would instantly give up his suit as desperate. At the same time, he observed, that Sycamore had proceeded too far to retract42; that he had insulted a gentleman, and not only challenged, but even pursued him, and blocked up his passage in the public highway; outrages43 which he (Sir Launcelot) would not suffer to pass unpunished. Accordingly, he insisted on the combat, on pain of treating Sycamore as a craven, and a recreant44. This declaration was reinforced by Dawdle, who told him, that, should he now decline the engagement, all the world would look upon him as an infamous45 poltroon46.
These two observations gave a necessary fillip to the courage of the challenger. The parties took their stations. The trumpet10 sounded to charge, and the combatants began their career with great impetuosity.— Whether the gleam of Sir Launcelot’s arms affrighted Mr. Sycamore’s steed, or some other object had an unlucky effect on his eyesight, certain it is he started at about midway, and gave his rider such a violent shake as discomposed his attitude, and disabled him from using his lance to the best advantage. Had our hero continued his career, with his lance couched, in all probability Sycamore’s armour47 would have proved but a bad defence to his carcase; but Sir Launcelot perceiving his rival’s spear unrested, had just time to throw up the point of his own, when the two horses closed with such a shock, that Sycamore, already wavering in the saddle, was overthrown48, and his armour crashed around him as he fell.
The victor, seeing him lie without motion, alighted immediately and began to unbuckle his helmet, in which office he was assisted by the trumpeter. When the headpiece was removed, the hapless knight of the Griffin appeared in the pale livery of death, though he was only in a swoon, from which he soon recovered by the effect of the fresh air, and the aspersion49 of cold water, brought from a small pool in the neighbourhood. When he recognised his conqueror50 doing the offices of humanity about his person, he closed his eyes from vexation, told Sir Launcelot that his was the fortune of the day, though he himself owed his mischance to the fault of his own horse; and observed, that this ridiculous affair would not have happened, but for the mischievous51 instigation of that scoundrel Dawdle, on whose ribs52 he threatened to revenge this mishap53.
Perhaps Captain Crowe might have saved him the trouble, had the wag honourably54 adhered to the institutions of chivalry55, in his conflict with our novice. But on this occasion, his ingenuity56 was more commendable57 than his courage. He had provided at the inn a blown bladder, in which several smooth pebbles58 were enclosed; and this he slyly fixed59 on the head of his pole, when the captain obeyed the signal of battle. Instead of bearing the brunt of the encounter, he turned out of the straight line, so as to avoid the lance of his antagonist, and rattled60 his bladder with such effect, that Crowe’s horse, pricking61 up his ears, took to his heels, and fled across some ploughed land with such precipitation, that the rider was obliged to quit his spear, and lay fast hold on the mane, that he might not be thrown out of the saddle. Dawdle, who was much better mounted, seeing his condition, rode up to the unfortunate novice, and belaboured his shoulders without fear of retaliation62.
Mr. Clarke, seeing his kinsman63 so roughly handled, forgot his fears, and flew to his assistance; but, before he came up, the aggressor had retired64; and now perceiving that fortune had declared against his friend and patron, very honourably abandoned him in his distress65, and went off at full speed for London.
Nor was Timothy Crabshaw without his share in the noble achievements of this propitious66 day. He had by this time imbibed67 such a tincture of errantry, that he firmly believed himself and his master equally invincible68; and this belief operating upon a perverse69 disposition70, rendered him as quarrelsome in his sphere, as his master was mild and forbearing. As he sat on horseback, in the place assigned to him and Sycamore’s lacquey, he managed Gilbert in such a manner, as to invade with his heels the posteriors of the other’s horse; and this insult produced some altercation71 which ended in mutual72 assault. The footman handled the butt-end of his horsewhip with great dexterity73 about the head of Crabshaw, who declared afterwards, that it sung and simmered like a kettle of cod-fish; but the squire, who understood the nature of long lashes74, as having been a carter from his infancy75, found means to twine76 his thong77 about the neck of his antagonist, and pull him off his horse half strangled, at the very instant his master was thrown by Sir Launcelot Greaves.
Having thus obtained the victory, he did not much regard the punctilios of chivalry; but, taking it for granted he had a right to make the most of his advantage, resolved to carry off the spolia opima. Alighting with great agility78, “Brother,” cried he, “I think as haw yawrs bean’t a butcher’s horse, a doan’t carry calves79 well—I’se make yaw knaw your churning days, I wool—what, yaw look as if yaw was crow-trodden, you do —now, you shall pay the score you have been running on my pate80, you shall, brother.”
So saying, he rifled his pockets, stripped him of his hat and coat, and took possession of his master’s portmanteau. But he did not long enjoy his plunder81. For the lacquey complaining to Sir Launcelot of his having been despoiled82, the knight commanded his squire to
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