Our hero little dreamed that he had a formidable rival in the person of
the knight, who arrived about eleven, at the sign of the St. George, and,
by the noise he made, gave intimation of his importance. This was no
other than Squire Sycamore, who, having received advice that Miss Aurelia
Darnel had eloped from the place of her retreat, immediately took the
field in quest of that lovely fugitive; hoping that, should he have the
good fortune to find her in present distress, his good offices would not
be rejected. He had followed the chase so close, that, immediately after
our adventurer’s departure, he alighted at the inn, from whence Aurelia
had been conveyed; and there he learned the particulars which we have
related above.
Mr. Sycamore had a great deal of the childish romantic in his
disposition, and, in the course of his amours, is said to have always
taken more pleasure in the pursuit than in the final possession. He had
heard of Sir Launcelot’s extravagance, by which he was in some measure
infected, and he dropped an insinuation, that he could eclipse his rival,
even in his own lunatic sphere. This hint was not lost upon his
companion, counsellor, and buffoon, the facetious Davy Dawdle, who had
some humour, and a great deal of mischief, in his composition. He looked
upon his patron as a fool, and his patron knew him to be both knave and
fool; yet, the two characters suited each other so well, that they could
hardly exist asunder. Davy was an artful sycophant, but he did not
flatter in the usual way; on the contrary, he behaved en cavalier, and
treated Sycamore, on whose bounty he subsisted, with the most sarcastic
familiarity. Nevertheless, he seasoned his freedom with certain
qualifying ingredients, that subdued the bitterness of it, and was now
become so necessary to the squire, that he had no idea of enjoyment with
which Dawdle was not somehow or other connected.
There had been a warm dispute betwixt them about the scheme of contesting
the prize with Sir Launcelot in the lists of chivalry. Sycamore had
insinuated, that if he had a mind to play the fool, he could wear armour,
wield a lance, and manage a charger, as well as Sir Launcelot Greaves.
Dawdle, snatching the hint, “I had, some time ago,” said he, “contrived a
scheme for you, which I was afraid you had not address enough to execute.
It would be no difficult matter, in imitation of the bachelor, Sampson
Carrasco, to go in quest of Greaves, as a knight-errant, defy him as a
rival, and establish a compact, by which the vanquished should obey the
injunctions of the victor.”--“That is my very idea,” cried Sycamore.
“--Your idea!” replied the other; “had you ever an idea of your own
conception?” Thus the dispute began, and was maintained with great
vehemence, until other arguments failing, the squire offered to lay a
wager of twenty guineas. To this proposal, Dawdle answered by the
interjection pish! which inflamed Sycamore to a repetition of the
defiance. “You are in the right,” said Dawdle, “to use such an argument
as you know is by me unanswerable. A wager of twenty guineas will at any
time overthrow and confute all the logic of the most able syllogist, who
has not got a shilling in his pocket.”
Sycamore looked very grave at this declaration, and, after a short pause,
said, “I wonder, Dawdle, what you do with all your money?”--“I am
surprised you should give yourself that trouble--I never ask what you do
with yours.”--“You have no occasion to ask; you know pretty well how it
goes.”--“What, do you upbraid me with your favours?--‘t is mighty well,
Sycamore.”--“Nay, Dawdle, I did not intend to affront.”--“Z----s!
affront! what d’ye mean?” “I’ll assure you, Davy, you don’t know me, if
you think I could be so ungenerous as to--a--to----“--“I always thought,
whatever faults or foibles you might have, Sycamore, that you was not
deficient in generosity,--though to be sure it is often very absurdly
displayed.”--“Ay, that’s one of my greatest foibles; I can’t refuse even
a scoundrel, when I think he is in want.--Here, Dawdle, take that note.”
--“Not I, sir,--what d’ye mean?--what right have I to your notes?”
--“Nay, but Dawdle,--come.”--“By no means; it looks like the abuse of
good-nature;--all the world knows you’re good-natured to a fault.”
--“Come, dear Davy, you shall--you must oblige me.”--Thus urged, Dawdle
accepted the bank-note with great reluctance, and restored the idea to
the right owner.
A suit of armour being brought from the garret or armoury of his
ancestors, he gave orders for having the pieces scoured and furbished up;
and his heart dilated with joy, when he reflected upon the superb figure
he should make when cased in complete steel, and armed at all points for
the combat.
When he was fitted with the other parts, Dawdle insisted on buckling on
his helmet, which weighed fifteen pounds; and, the headpiece being
adjusted, made such a clatter about his ears with a cudgel, that his eyes
had almost started from their sockets. His voice was lost within the
vizor, and his friend affected not to understand his meaning when he made
signs with his gauntlets, and endeavoured to close with him, that he
might wrest the cudgel from his hand. At length he desisted, saying,
“I’ll warrant the helmet sound by its ringing”; and taking it off, found
the squire in a cold sweat. He would have achieved his first exploit on
the spot, had his strength permitted him to assault Dawdle; but what with
want of air, and the discipline he had undergone, he had well-nigh
swooned away; and before he retrieved the use of his members, he was
appeased by the apologies of his companion, who protested he meant
nothing more than to try if the helmet was free of cracks, and whether or
not it would prove a good protection for the head it covered.
His excuses were accepted; the armour was packed up, and next morning Mr.
Sycamore set out from his own house, accompanied by Dawdle, who undertook
to perform the part of his squire at the approaching combat. He was also
attended by a servant on horseback, who had charge of the armour, and
another who blowed the trumpet. They no sooner understood that our hero
was housed at the George, than the trumpeter sounded a charge, which
alarmed Sir Launcelot and his company, and disturbed honest Captain Crowe
in the middle of his first sleep. Their next step was to pen a
challenge, which, when the stranger departed, was by the trumpeter
delivered with great ceremony into the hands of Sir Launcelot, who read
it in these words:--“To the knight of the Crescent, greeting. Whereas I
am informed you have the presumption to lay claim to the heart of the
peerless Aurelia Darnel, I give you notice that I can admit no rivalship
in the affection of that paragon of beauty; and I expect that you will
either resign your pretensions, or make it appear in single combat,
according to the law of arms and the institutions of chivalry, that you
are worthy to dispute her favour with him of the Griffin.--POLYDORE.”
Our adventurer was not a little surprised at this address, which however
he pocketed in silence, and began to reflect, not without mortification,
that he was treated as a lunatic by some person, who wanted to amuse
himself with the infirmities of his fellow-creatures. Mr. Thomas Clarke,
who saw the ceremony with which the letter was delivered, and the
emotions with which it was read, hied him to the kitchen for
intelligence, and there learned that the stranger was Squire Sycamore.
He forthwith comprehended the nature of the billet, and, in the
apprehension that bloodshed would ensue, resolved to alarm his uncle,
that he might assist in keeping the peace. He accordingly entered the
apartment of the captain, who had been waked by the trumpet, and now
peevishly asked the meaning of that d--ned piping, as if all hands were
called upon deck? Clarke having imparted what he knew of the
transaction, together with his own conjectures, the captain said, he did
not suppose as how they would engage by candlelight; and that, for his
own part, he should turn out in the larboard watch, long enough before
any signals could be hove out for forming the line.
With this assurance the lawyer retired to his nest, where he did not fail
to dream of Mrs. Dolly Cowslip, while Sir Launcelot passed the night
awake, in ruminating on the strange challenge he had received. He had
got notice that the sender was Mr. Sycamore, and hesitated with himself
whether he should not punish him for his impertinence; but when he
reflected on the nature of the dispute, and the serious consequences it
might produce, he resolved to decline the combat, as a trial of right and
merit founded upon absurdity. Even in his maddest hours, he never
adopted those maxims of knight-errantry which related to challenges. He
always perceived the folly and wickedness of defying a man to mortal
fight, because he did not like the colour of his beard, or the complexion
of his mistress; or of deciding by homicide whether he or his rival
deserved the preference, when it was the lady’s prerogative to determine
which should be the happy lover. It was his opinion that chivalry was an
useful institution while confined to its original purposes of protecting
the innocent, assisting the friendless, and bringing the guilty to
condign punishment. But he could not conceive how these laws should be
answered by violating every suggestion of reason, and every precept of
humanity.
Captain Crowe did not examine the matter so philosophically. He took it
for granted that in the morning the two knights would come to action, and
slept sound on that supposition. But he rose before it was day, resolved
to be somehow concerned in the fray; and understanding that the stranger
had a companion, set him down immediately for his own antagonist. So
impatient was he to establish this secondary contest, that by daybreak he
entered the chamber of Dawdle, to which he was directed by the waiter,
and roused him with a hilloah, that might have been heard at the distance
of half a league. Dawdle, startled by this terrific sound, sprung out of
bed, and stood upright on the floor, before he opened his eyes upon the
object by which he had been so dreadfully alarmed. But when he beheld
the head of Crowe, so swelled and swathed, so livid, hideous, and grisly,
with a broadsword by his side, and a case of pistols in his girdle, he
believed it was the apparition of some murdered man; his hair bristled
up, his teeth chattered, and his knees knocked; he would have prayed, but
his tongue denied its office. Crowe seeing his perturbation, “Mayhap,
friend,” said he, “you take me for a buccaneer; but I am no such person.
--My name is Captain Crowe.--I come not for your silver nor your gold,
your rigging nor your stowage; but hearing as how your friend intends to
bring my friend Sir Launcelot Greaves to action, d’ye see, I desire in
the way of friendship, that, while they are engaged, you and I, as their
seconds, may lie board and board for a few glasses to divert one another,
d’ye see.” Dawdle hearing this request, began to retrieve his faculties,
and throwing himself into the attitude of Hamlet when the ghost appears,
exclaimed in theatrical accent,
Angels and ministers of grace defend us!
Art thou a spirit of grace, or goblin damn’d?
As he seemed to bend his eye on vacancy, the captain began to think that
he really saw something preternatural, and stared wildly round. Then
addressing himself to the terrified Dawdle, “D--n’d,” said he, “for what
should I be d--n’d? If you are afeard of goblins, brother, put your
trust in the Lord, and he’ll prove a sheet-anchor to you.” The other
having by this time recollected himself perfectly, continued
notwithstanding to spout tragedy, and, in the words of Macbeth,
pronounced,
What man dare, I dare:
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The arm’d rhinoceros, or Hyrcanian tiger;
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble.
“‘Ware names, Jack,” cried the impatient mariner, “if so be as how you’ll
bear a hand and rig yourself, and take a short trip with me into the
offing, we’ll overhaul this here affair in the turning of a capstan.”
At this juncture they were joined by Mr. Sycamore in his night-gown and
slippers. Disturbed by Crowe’s first salute, he sprung up, and now
expressed no small astonishment at first sight of the novice’s
countenance. After having gazed alternately at him and Dawdle, “Who have
we got here?” said he; “raw head and bloody bones?” When his friend,
slipping on his clothes, gave him to understand that this was a friend of
Sir Launcelot Greaves, and explained the purport of his errand, he
treated him with more civility. He assured him that he should have the
pleasure to break a spear with Mr. Dawdle; and signified his surprise
that Sir Launcelot had made no answer to his letter. It being by this
time clear daylight, and Crowe extremely interested in this affair, he
broke without ceremony into the knight’s chamber, and told him abruptly
that the enemy had brought to, and waited for his coming up, in order to
begin the action. “I’ve hailed his consort,” said he, “a shambling,
chattering fellow. He took me first for a hobgoblin, then called me
names, a tiger, a wrynoseo’ross, and a Persian bear; but egad, if I come
athwart him, I’ll make him look like the bear and ragged staff before we
part,--I wool.”
This intimation was not received with that alacrity which the captain
expected to find in our adventurer, who told him in a peremptory tone,
that he had no design to come to action, and desired to be left to his
repose. Crowe forthwith retired crestfallen, and muttered something,
which was never distinctly heard.
About eight in the morning Mr. Dawdle brought him a formal message from
the knight of the Griffin, desiring he would appoint the lists, and give
security of the field. To which request he made answer in a very
composed and solemn accent, “If the person who sent you thinks I have
injured him, let him without disguise or any such ridiculous ceremony,
explain the nature of the wrong; and then I shall give such satisfaction
as may suit my conscience and my character. If he hath bestowed his
affection upon any particular object, and looks upon me as a favourite
rival, I shall not wrong the lady so much as to take any step that may
prejudice her choice, especially a step that contradicts my own reason as
much as it would outrage the laws of my country. If he who calls himself
knight of the Griffin is really desirous of treading in the paths of true
chivalry, he will not want opportunities of signalising his valour in the
cause of virtue.--Should he, notwithstanding this declaration, offer
violence to me in the course of my occasions, he will always find me in a
posture of defence. Or, should he persist in repeating his
importunities, I shall without ceremony chastise the messenger.” His
declining the combat was interpreted into fear by Mr. Sycamore, who now
became more insolent and ferocious, on the supposition of our knight’s
timidity. Sir Launcelot meanwhile went to breakfast with his friends,
and, having put on his armour, ordered the horses to be brought forth.
Then he paid the bill, and walking deliberately to the gate, in presence
of Squire Sycamore and his attendants, vaulted at one spring into the
saddle of Bronzomarte, whose neighing and curveting proclaimed the joy he
felt in being mounted by his accomplished master.
Though the knight of the Griffin did not think proper to insult his rival
personally, his friend Dawdle did not fail to crack some jokes on the
figure and horsemanship of Crowe, who again declared he should be glad to
fall in with him upon the voyage. Nor did Mr. Clarke’s black patch and
rueful countenance pass unnoticed and unridiculed. As for Timothy
Crabshaw, he beheld his brother squire with the contempt of a veteran;
and Gilbert paid him his compliments with his heels at parting. But when
our adventurer and his retinue were clear of the inn, Mr. Sycamore
ordered his trumpeter to sound a retreat, by way of triumph over his
antagonist.
Perhaps he would have contented himself with this kind of victory, had
not Dawdle further inflamed his envy and ambition, by launching out in
praise of Sir Launcelot. He observed that his countenance was open and
manly; his joints strong knit, and his form unexceptionable; that he trod
like Hercules, and vaulted into the saddle like a winged Mercury. Nay,
he even hinted it was lucky for Sycamore that the knight of the Crescent
happened to be so pacifically disposed. His patron sickened at these
praises, and took fire at the last observation. He affected to
undervalue personal beauty, though the opinion of the world had been
favourable to himself in that particular. He said he was at least two
inches taller than Greaves; and as to shape and air, he would make no
comparisons; but with respect to riding, he was sure he had a better seat
than Sir Launcelot, and would wager five hundred to fifty guineas, that
he would unhorse him at the first encounter. “There is no occasion for
laying wagers,” replied Mr. Dawdle; “the doubt may be determined in half
an hour--Sir Launcelot is not a man to avoid you at full gallop.”
Sycamore, after some hesitation, declared he would follow and provoke him
to battle, on condition that Dawdle would engage Crowe; and this
condition was accepted. For, though Davy had no stomach to the trial, he
could not readily find an excuse for declining it. Besides, he had
discovered the captain to be a very bad horseman, and resolved to eke out
his own scanty valour with a border of ingenuity. The servants were
immediately ordered to unpack the armour, and, in a little time, Mr.
Sycamore made a very formidable appearance. But the scene that followed
is too important to be huddled in at the end of a chapter; and therefore
we shall reserve it for a more conspicuous place in these memoirs.