The Adventures of Sir Launcelot Greaves - Tobias Smollett
The noise of Crabshaw's cries had awakened and aroused his master, who,
rising suddenly in the dark, snatched up his sword that lay by his
bedside, and hastened to the scene of tumult, where all their mouths were
opened at once, to explain the cause of the disturbance, and make an
apology for breaking his honour's rest. He said nothing, but taking the
candle in his hand, beckoned his squire to follow him into his apartment,
resolving to arm and take horse immediately. Crabshaw understood his
meaning; and while he shuffled on his clothes, yawning hideously all the
while, wished the lawyer at the devil for having visited him so
unseasonably; and even cursed himself for the noise he had made, in
consequence of which he foresaw he should now be obliged to forfeit his
night's rest, and travel in the dark, exposed to the inclemencies of the
weather. "Pox rot thee, Tom Clarke, for a wicked lawyer!" said he to
himself; "hadst thou been hanged at Bartlemy-tide, I should this night
have slept in peace, that I should--an I would there was a blister on
this plaguy tongue of mine for making such a hollo-ballo, that I do--five
gallons of cold water has my poor belly been drenched with since night
fell, so as my reins and my liver are all one as if they were turned into
ice, and my whole harslet shakes and shivers like a vial of quicksilver.
I have been dragged, half-drowned like a rotten ewe, from the bottom of a
river; and who knows but I may be next dragged quite dead from the bottom
of a coal-pit--if so be as I am, I shall go to hell to be sure, for being
consarned like in my own moorder, that I will, so I will; for, a plague
on it! I had no business with the vagaries of this crazy-peated measter
of mine, a pox on him, say I."
He had just finished this soliloquy as he entered the apartment of his
master, who desired to know what was become of his armour. Timothy,
understanding that it had been left in the room when the knight
undressed, began to scratch his head in great perplexity; and at last
declared it as his opinion, that it must have been carried off by
witchcraft. Then he related his adventure with Tom Clarke, who he said
was conveyed to his bedside he knew not how; and concluded with affirming
they were no better than Papishes who did not believe in witchcraft. Sir
Launcelot could not help smiling at his simplicity; but assuming a
peremptory air, he commanded him to fetch the armour without delay, that
he might afterwards saddle the horses, in order to prosecute their
journey.
Timothy retired in great tribulation to the kitchen, where, finding the
misanthrope, whom the noise had also disturbed, and, still impressed with
the notion of his being a conjurer, he offered him a shilling if he would
cast a figure, and let him know what was become of his master's armour.
Ferret, in hope of producing more mischief, informed him without
hesitation, that one of the company had conveyed it into the chancel of
the church, where he would now find it deposited; at the same time
presenting him with the key, which Mr. Fillet had left in his custody.
The squire, who was none of those who set hobgoblins at defiance, being
afraid to enter the church alone at these hours, bargained with the
ostler to accompany and light him with a lantern. Thus attended, he
advanced to the place where the armour lay in a heap, and loaded it upon
the back of his attendant without molestation, the lance being shouldered
over the whole. In this equipage they were just going to retire, when
the ostler, hearing a noise at some distance, wheeled about with such
velocity, that one end of the spear saluting Crabshaw's pate, the poor
squire measured his length on the ground; and, crushing the lantern in
his fall, the light was extinguished. The other, terrified at these
effects of his own sudden motion, threw down his burden, and would have
betaken himself to flight, had not Crabshaw laid fast hold on his leg,
that he himself might not be deserted. The sound of the pieces
clattering on the pavement roused Captain Crowe from a trance or slumber,
in which he had lain since the apparition vanished; and he hallooed, or
rather bellowed, with vast vociferation. Timothy and his friend were so
intimidated by this terrific strain, that they thought no more of the
armour, but ran home arm in arm, and appeared in the kitchen with all the
marks of horror and consternation.
When Sir Launcelot came forth wrapped in his cloak, and demanded his
arms, Crabshaw declared that the devil had them in possession; and this
assertion was confirmed by the ostler, who pretended to know the devil by
his roar. Ferret sat in his corner, maintaining the most mortifying
silence, and enjoying the impatience of the knight, who in vain requested
an explanation of this mystery. At length his eyes began to lighten,
when, seizing Crabshaw in one hand, and the ostler in the other, he swore
by Heaven he would dash their souls out, and raze the house to the
foundation, if they did not instantly disclose the particulars of this
transaction. The good woman fell on her knees, protesting, in the name
of the Lord, that she was innocent as the child unborn, thof she had lent
the captain a Prayer-Book to learn the Lord's Prayer, a candle and
lantern to light him to the church, and a couple of clean sheets, for the
use of the other gentlemen. The knight was more and more puzzled by this
declaration; when Mr. Clarke, coming into the kitchen, presented himself
with a low obeisance to his old patron.
Sir Launcelot's anger was immediately converted into surprise. He set at
liberty the squire and the ostler, and stretching out his hand to the
lawyer, "My good friend Clarke," said he, "how came you hither? Can you
solve this knotty point which has involved us all in such confusion?"
Tom forthwith began a very circumstantial recapitulation of what had
happened to his uncle; in what manner he had been disappointed of the
estate; how he had accidentally seen his honour, been enamoured of his
character, and become ambitious of following his example. Then he
related the particulars of the plan which had been laid down to divert
him from his design, and concluded with assuring the knight, that the
captain was a very honest man, though he seemed to be a little disordered
in his intellects. "I believe it," replied Sir Launcelot; "madness and
honesty are not incompatible--indeed, I feel it by experience."
Tom proceeded to ask pardon, in his uncle's name, for having made so free
with the knight's armour; and begged his honour, for the love of God,
would use his authority with Crowe, that he might quit all thoughts of
knight-errantry, for which he was by no means qualified; for, being
totally ignorant of the laws of the land, he would be continually
committing trespasses, and bring himself into trouble. He said, in case
he should prove refractory, he might be apprehended by virtue of a
friendly warrant, for having feloniously carried off the knight's
accoutrements. "Taking away another man's moveables," said he, "and
personal goods against the will of the owner, is furtum and felony
according to the statute. Different indeed from robbery, which implies
putting in fear in the king's highway, in alta via regia violenter et
felonice captum et asportatum, in magnum terrorem, etc.; for if the
robbery be laid in the indictment, as done in quadam via pedestri, in a
footpath, the offender will not be ousted of his clergy. It must be in
alta via regia; and your honour will please to take notice, that
robberies committed on the river Thames are adjudged as done in alta via
regia; for the king's highstream is all the same as the king's highway."
Sir Launcelot could not help smiling at Tom's learned investigation. He
congratulated him on the progress he had made in the study of the law.
He expressed his concern at the strange turn the captain had taken, and
promised to use his influence in persuading him to desist from the
preposterous design he had formed.
The lawyer, thus assured, repaired immediately to the church, accompanied
by the squire, and held a parley with his uncle, who, when he understood
that the knight in person desired a conference, surrendered up the arms
quietly, and returned to the public-house.
Sir Launcelot received the honest seaman with his usual complacency; and
perceiving great discomposure in his looks, said, he was sorry to hear he
had passed such a disagreeable night to so little purpose. Crowe, having
recruited his spirits with a bumper of brandy, thanked him for his
concern, and observed, that he had passed many a hard night in his time;
but such another as this, he would not be bound to weather for the
command of the whole British navy. "I have seen Davy Jones in the shape
of a blue flame, d'ye see, hopping to and fro on the sprit-sail yardarm;
and I've seen your Jacks o' the Lanthorn, and Wills o' the Wisp, and many
such spirits, both by sea and land. But to-night I've been boarded by
all the devils and d--ned souls in hell, squeaking and squalling, and
glimmering and glaring. Bounce went the door--crack went the pew--crash
came the tackle--white-sheeted ghosts dancing in one corner by the
glow-worm's light--black devils hobbling in another--Lord have mercy upon
us! and I was hailed, Tom, I was, by my grandmother Jane, and my aunt
Bridget, d'ye see--a couple of d--n'd--but they're roasting; that's one
comfort, my lad."
When he had thus disburdened his conscience, Sir Launcelot introduced
the subject of the new occupation at which he aspired. "I understand,"
said he, "that you are desirous of treading the paths of errantry,
which, I assure you, are thorny and troublesome. Nevertheless, as
your purpose is to exercise your humanity and benevolence, so your
ambition is commendable. But towards the practice of chivalry, there is
something more required than the virtues of courage and generosity. A
knight-errant ought to understand the sciences, to be master of ethics or
morality, to be well versed in theology, a complete casuist, and minutely
acquainted with the laws of his country. He should not only be patient
of cold, hunger, and fatigue, righteous, just, and valiant, but also
chaste, religious, temperate, polite, and conversable; and have all his
passions under the rein, except love, whose empire he should submissively
acknowledge." He said, this was the very essence of chivalry; and no man
had ever made such a profession of arms, without first having placed his
affection upon some beauteous object, for whose honour, and at whose
command, he would cheerfully encounter the most dreadful perils.
He took notice, that nothing could be more irregular than the manner in
which Crowe had attempted to keep his vigil. For he had never served his
novitiate--he had not prepared himself with abstinence and prayer--he had
not provided a qualified godfather for the ceremony of dubbing--he had no
armour of his own to wake; but, on the very threshold of chivalry, which
is the perfection of justice, had unjustly purloined the arms of another
knight. That this was a mere mockery of a religious institution, and
therefore unpleasing in the sight of Heaven; witness the demons and
hobgoblins that were permitted to disturb and torment him in his trial.
Crowe having listened to these remarks with earnest attention, replied,
after some hesitation, "I am bound to you, brother, for your kind and
Christian counsel--I doubt as how I've steered by a wrong chart, d'ye
see--as for the matter of the sciences, to be sure, I know Plain Sailing
and Mercator; and am an indifferent good seaman, thof I say it that
should not say it. But as to all the rest, no better than the viol-block
or the geer-capstan. Religion I han't much overhauled; and we tars laugh
at your polite conversation, thof, mayhap, we can chaunt a few ballads to
keep the hands awake in the night watch; then for chastity, brother, I
doubt that's not expected in a sailor just come ashore, after a long
voyage--sure all those poor hearts won't be d--ned for steering in the
wake of nature. As for a sweetheart, Bet Mizen of St. Catherine's would
fit me to a hair--she and I are old messmates; and what signifies
talking, brother, she knows already the trim of my vessel, d'ye see." He
concluded with saying, he thought he wa'n't too old to learn; and if Sir
Launcelot would take him in tow as his tender, he would stand by him all
weathers, and it should not cost his consort a farthing's expense.
The knight said, he did not think himself of consequence enough to have
such a pupil, but should always be ready to give him his best advice; as
a specimen of which, he exhorted him to weigh all the circumstances, and
deliberate calmly and leisurely, before he actually engaged in such a
boisterous profession; assuring him, that if, at the end of three months,
his resolution should continue, he would take upon himself the office of
his instructor. In the meantime he gratified the hostess for his
lodging, put on his armour, took leave of the company, and, mounting
Bronzomarte, proceeded southerly, being attended by his squire Crabshaw,
grumbling, on the back of Gilbert.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHICH IS WITHIN A HAIR'S-BREADTH OF PROVING HIGHLY INTERESTING.
Leaving Captain Crowe and his nephew for the present, though they, and
even the misanthrope, will reappear in due season, we are now obliged to
attend the progress of the knight, who proceeded in a southerly
direction, insensible of the storm that blew, as well as of the darkness,
which was horrible. For some time, Crabshaw ejaculated curses in
silence; till at length his anger gave way to his fear, which waxed so
strong upon him, that he could no longer resist the desire of alleviating
it, by entering into a conversation with his master. By way of
introduction, he gave Gilbert the spur, directing him towards the flank
of Bronzomarte, which he encountered with such a shock, that the knight
was almost dismounted.
When Sir Launcelot, with some warmth, asked the reason of this attack,
the squire replied in these words: "The devil, God bless us! mun be
playing his pranks with Gilbert too, as sure as I'm a living soul--I'se
wager a teaster, the foul fiend has left the seaman, and got into
Gilbert, that he has--when a has passed through an ass and a horse, I'se
marvel what beast a will get into next." "Probably into a mule," said
the knight; "in that case, you will be in some danger--but I can, at any
time, dispossess you with a horse-whip."--"Ay, ay," answered Timothy,
"your honour has a mortal good hand at giving a flap with a fox's tail,
as the saying is--'t is a wonderment you did not try your hand on that
there wiseacre that stole your honour's harness, and wants to be an
arrant with a murrain to 'un. Lord help his fool's head, it becomes him
as a sow doth a cart saddle." "There is no guilt in infirmity," said the
knight; "I punish the vicious only." "I would your honour would punish
Gilbert then," cried the squire, "for 't is the most vicious tuoad that
ever I laid a leg over--but as to that same seafaring man, what may his
distemper be?"
"Madness," answered Sir Launcelot. "Bodikins," exclaimed the squire, "I
doubt as how other volks are leame of the same leg--but it an't vor such
small gentry as he to be mad; they mun leave that to their betters."
"You seem to hint at me, Crabshaw. Do you really think I am mad?" "I
may say as how I have looked your honour in the mouth; and a sorry dog
should I be, if I did not know your humours as well as I know e'er a
beast in the steable at Greavesbury Hall." "Since you are so well
acquainted with my madness," said the knight, "what opinion have you of
yourself, who serve and follow a lunatic?" "I hope I han't served your
honour for nothing, but I shall inherit some of your cast vagaries--when
your honour is pleased to be mad, I should be very sorry to be found
right in my senses. Timothy Crabshaw will never eat the bread of
unthankfulness--it shall never be said of him, that he was wiser than his
measter. As for the matter of following a madman, we may see your
honour's face is made of a fiddle; every one that looks on you, loves
you." This compliment the knight returned, by saying, "If my face is a
fiddle, Crabshaw, your tongue is a fiddlestick that plays upon it--yet
your music is very disagreeable--you don't keep time." "Nor you neither,
measter," cried Timothy, "or we shouldn't be here wandering about under a
cloud of night, like sheep-stealers, or evil spirits with troubled
consciences."
Here the discourse was interrupted by a sudden disaster; in consequence
of which, the squire uttered an inarticulate roar, that startled the
knight himself, who was very little subject to the sensation of fear.
But his surprise was changed into vexation, when he perceived Gilbert
without a rider passing by, and kicking his heels with great agility. He
forthwith turned his steed, and riding back a few paces, found Crabshaw
rising from the ground. When he asked what was become of his horse, he
answered in a whimpering tone, "Horse! would I could once see him fairly
carrion for the hounds--for my part, I believe as how 't is no horse, but
a devil incarnate; and yet I've been worse mounted, that I have--I'd like
to have rid a horse that was foaled of an acorn."
This accident happened in a hollow way, overshadowed with trees, one of
which the storm had blown down, so that it lay over the road, and one of
its boughs projecting horizontally, encountered the squire as he trotted
along in the dark. Chancing to hitch under his long chin, he could not
disengage himself, but hung suspended like a flitch of bacon; while
Gilbert, pushing forward, left him dangling, and, by his awkward gambols,
seemed to be pleased with the joke. This capricious animal was not
retaken, without the personal endeavours of the knight; for Crabshaw
absolutely refusing to budge a foot from his honour's side, he was
obliged to alight, and fasten Bronzomarte to a tree. Then they set out
together, and, with some difficulty, found Gilbert with his neck
stretched over a five-barred gate, snuffing up the morning air. The
squire, however, was not remounted, without first having undergone a
severe reprehension from his master, who upbraided him with his
cowardice, threatened to chastise him on the spot, and declared that he
would divorce his dastardly soul from his body, should he ever be
incommoded or affronted with another instance of his baseborn
apprehension.
Though there was some risk in carrying on the altercation at this
juncture, Timothy, having bound up his jaws, could not withstand the
inclination he had to confute his master. He therefore, in a muttering
accent, protested, that, if the knight would give him leave, he should
prove that his honour had tied a knot with his tongue, which he could not
untie with all his teeth. "How, caitiff!" cried Sir Launcelot, "presume
to contend with me in argument?" "Your mouth is scarce shut," said the
other, "since you declared that a man was not to be punished for madness,
because it was a distemper. Now I will maintain that cowardice is a
distemper, as well as madness; for nobody would be afraid, if he could
help it." "There is more logic in that remark," resumed the knight,
"than I expected from your clod-pate, Crabshaw. But I must explain the
difference between cowardice and madness. Cowardice, though sometimes
the effect of natural imbecility, is generally a prejudice of education,
or bad habit contracted from misinformation, or misapprehension; and may
certainly be cured by experience, and the exercise of reason. But this
remedy cannot be applied in madness, which is a privation or disorder of
reason itself."
"So is cowardice, as I'm a living soul," exclaimed the squire; "don't you
say a man is frightened out of his senses? for my peart, measter, I can
neither see nor hear, much less argufy, when I'm in such a quandary.
Wherefore, I do believe, odds bodikins! that cowardice and madness are
both distempers, and differ no more than the hot and cold fits of an
ague. When it teakes your honour, you're all heat, and fire, and fury,
Lord bless us! but when it catches poor Tim, he's cold and dead-hearted,
he sheakes and shivers like an aspen leaf, that he does." "In that
case," answered the knight, "I shall not punish you for the distemper
which you cannot help, but for engaging in a service exposed to perils,
when you knew your own infirmity; in the same manner as a man deserves
punishment, who enlists himself for a soldier, while he labours under any
secret disease." "At that rate," said the squire, "my bread is like to
be rarely buttered o' both sides, i'faith. But, I hope, as by the
blessing of God I have run mad, so I shall in good time grow valiant,
under your honour's precept and example."
By this time a very disagreeable night was succeeded by a fair bright
morning, and a market-town appeared at the distance of three or four
miles, when Crabshaw, having no longer the fear of hobgoblins before his
eyes, and being moreover cheered by the sight of a place where he hoped
to meet with comfortable entertainment, began to talk big, to expatiate
on the folly of being afraid, and finally set all danger at defiance;
when all of a sudden he was presented with an opportunity of putting in
practice those new-adopted maxims. In an opening between two lanes, they
perceived a gentleman's coach stopped by two highwaymen on horseback, one
of whom advanced to reconnoitre and keep the coast clear, while the other
exacted contribution from the travellers in the coach. He who acted as
sentinel, no sooner saw our adventurer appearing from the lane, than he
rode up with a pistol in his hand, and ordered him to halt on pain of
immediate death.
To this peremptory mandate the knight made no other reply than charging
him with such impetuosity, that he was unhorsed in a twinkling, and lay
sprawling on the ground, seemingly sore bruised with his fall. Sir
Launcelot, commanding Timothy to alight and secure the prisoner, couched
his lance, and rode full speed at the other highwayman, who was not a
little disturbed at sight of such an apparition. Nevertheless, he fired
his pistol without effect; and, clapping spurs to his horse, fled away at
full gallop. The knight pursued him with all the speed that Bronzomarte
could exert; but the robber, being mounted on a swift hunter, kept him at
a distance; and, after a chase of several miles, escaped through a wood
so entangled with coppice, that Sir Launcelot thought proper to desist.
He then, for the first time, recollected the situation in which he had
left the other thief, and, remembering to have heard a female shriek, as
he passed by the coach window, resolved to return with all expedition,
that he might make a proffer of his service to the lady, according to the
obligation of knight-errantry. But he had lost his way; and after an
hour's ride, during which he traversed many a field, and circled divers
hedges, he found himself in the market-town aforementioned. Here the
first object that presented itself to his eyes was Crabshaw, on foot,
surrounded by a mob, tearing his hair, stamping with his feet, and
roaring out in manifest distraction, "Show me the mayor! for the love of
God, show me the mayor!--O Gilbert, Gilbert! a murrain take thee,
Gilbert! sure thou wast foaled for my destruction!"
From these exclamations, and the antique dress of the squire, the people,
not without reason, concluded that the poor soul had lost his wits; and
the beadle was just going to secure him, when the knight interposed, and
at once attracted the whole attention of the populace. Timothy seeing
his master fell down on his knees, crying, "The thief has run away with
Gilbert--you may pound me into a peast, as the saying is. But now I'se
as mad as your worship, I an't afeard of the divil and all his works."
Sir Launcelot desiring the beadle would forbear, was instantly obeyed by
that officer, who had no inclination to put the authority of his place in
competition with the power of such a figure, armed at all points, mounted
on a fiery steed, and ready for the combat. He ordered Crabshaw to
attend him to the next inn, where he alighted; then, taking him into a
separate apartment, demanded an explanation of the unconnected words he
had uttered.
The squire was in such agitation, that, with infinite difficulty, and by
dint of a thousand different questions, his master learned the adventure
to this effect. Crabshaw, according to Sir Launcelot's command, had
alighted from his horse, and drawn his cutlass, in hope of intimidating
the discomfited robber into a tame surrender, though he did not at all
relish the nature of the service. But the thief was neither so much hurt
nor so tame as Timothy had imagined. He started on his feet with his
pistol still in his hand; and presenting it to the squire, swore with
dreadful imprecations, that he would blow his brains out in an instant.
Crabshaw, unwilling to hazard the trial of this experiment, turned his
back, and fled with great precipitation; while the robber, whose horse
had run away, mounted Gilbert, and rode off across the country. It was
at this period, that two footmen, belonging to the coach, who had stayed
behind to take their morning's whet at the inn where they lodged, came up
to the assistance of the ladies, armed with blunderbusses; and the
carriage proceeded, leaving Timothy alone in distraction and despair. He
knew not which way to turn, and was afraid of remaining on the spot, lest
the robbers should come back and revenge themselves upon him for the
disappointment they had undergone. In this distress, the first thought
that occurred was to make the best of his way to the town, and demand the
assistance of the civil magistrate towards the retrieval of what he had
lost; a design which he executed in such a manner, as justly entailed
upon him the imputation of lunacy.