The victory, according to modern custom, was like
to be decided by numbers, when, on a sudden, a fourth
pair of fists appeared in the battle, and immediately
paid their compliments to the parson; and the owner
of them at the same time crying out, “Are not
you ashamed, and be d—n’d to you,
to fall two of you upon one?”
The battle, which was of the kind that for distinction’s
sake is called royal, now raged with the utmost violence
during a few minutes; till Blifil being a second time
laid sprawling by Jones, Thwackum condescended to
apply for quarter to his new antagonist, who was now
found to be Mr Western himself; for in the heat of
the action none of the combatants had recognized him.
In fact, that honest squire, happening, in his afternoon’s
walk with some company, to pass through the field
where the bloody battle was fought, and having concluded,
from seeing three men engaged, that two of them must
be on a side, he hastened from his companions, and
with more gallantry than policy, espoused the cause
of the weaker party. By which generous proceeding
he very probably prevented Mr Jones from becoming
a victim to the wrath of Thwackum, and to the pious
friendship which Blifil bore his old master; for, besides
the disadvantage of such odds, Jones had not yet sufficiently
recovered the former strength of his broken arm.
This reinforcement, however, soon put an end to the
action, and Jones with his ally obtained the victory.
In which is seen a more moving spectacle than all
the blood in the bodies of Thwackum and Blifil, and
of twenty other such, is capable of producing.
The rest of Mr Western’s company were now come
up, being just at the instant when the action was
over. These were the honest clergyman, whom we
have formerly seen at Mr Western’s table; Mrs
Western, the aunt of Sophia; and lastly, the lovely
Sophia herself.
At this time, the following was the aspect of the
bloody field. In one place lay on the ground,
all pale, and almost breathless, the vanquished Blifil.
Near him stood the conqueror Jones, almost covered
with blood, part of which was naturally his own, and
part had been lately the property of the Reverend
Mr Thwackum. In a third place stood the said
Thwackum, like King Porus, sullenly submitting to the
conqueror. The last figure in the piece was Western
the Great, most gloriously forbearing the vanquished
foe.
Blifil, in whom there was little sign of life, was
at first the principal object of the concern of every
one, and particularly of Mrs Western, who had drawn
from her pocket a bottle of hartshorn, and was herself
about to apply it to his nostrils, when on a sudden
the attention of the whole company was diverted from
poor Blifil, whose spirit, if it had any such design,
might have now taken an opportunity of stealing off
to the other world, without any ceremony.
For now a more melancholy and a more lovely object
lay motionless before them. This was no other
than the charming Sophia herself, who, from the sight
of blood, or from fear for her father, or from some
other reason, had fallen down in a swoon, before any
one could get to her assistance.
