  —— Keep your honour clear, Barring all consequences. Burns. That the practice of duelling is to be tolerated in general society, I will not take upon me to say; but that it is absolutely necessary in the army, no officer of that profession will deny. It should, however, be regulated by temperate and honourable rules. In a body like the army, where unanimity and obedience to command must prevail, every thing that tends to disturb those passive qualities, should be scrupulously forbidden. But as the evil passions of the heart have not less exercise amongst military men than in any other division of society, quarrels cannot of course be avoided. Yet if these quarrels were allowed to develope their virulence in bickerings and open abuse, every corps of officers, it is to be feared, would be divided into parties, and disunion would place in jeopardy that power which can only act efficiently by unanimity. Hence the necessity of a more particular attention to gentlemanly demeanour amongst the military, and hence also the necessity of the existence of some power which will enforce conformity to its regulations. This, to a certain extent, is to be found in military authority; but beyond this, there is no remedy, except in the practice of duelling; and the more this practice is cherished in the army, the more honourable and lasting will be its reputation; the less will its quiet be disturbed; fewer will insult or injure their brother-officers, and consequently fewer will be necessitated to vindicate their honour by duel. The admirable decorum and gentlemanly friendships which prevail in the army generally, bear strong testimony to the truth of my argument; and as insults and injuries cannot pass there with impunity, those despicable characters, professed duellists, are rarely, if ever, to be met with in the service. They do not, at all events, practise their “profession” amongst military men, for the most obvious reasons in the world. Yet there have been, and are still in the army, men who approach towards this odious character; they are, however, but very few, nor will they attempt to offer insult openly; their aim is to assume an overbearing superiority, and, by all indirect means in their power, to impress every one with a sense of their vast prowess and undaunted courage: through all this they are guarded in their manner and expressions, and only go so far as to render themselves both despised and shunned. An ancient writer observes, that “The long sword and the swaggering cock are the ordinary marks of a faint heart in disguise;” and never was there more truth in any observation: for, as modesty and courage are usually associated, and as regard to self-preservation is natural to every one who contemplates the possible consequences of a duel, it is very unlikely that a truly brave man would wantonly expose himself to peril, by insulting another, without ample provocation. As a man of courage, he would feel that he could not shrink from a challenge, and that once engaged in it, “there must be no shuffling”; but the swaggerer is altogether a different sort of person, and will be found on examination to be made up of vanity, cruelty, and cowardice; he indulges in the two former, but is betrayed by the latter. He is forward to insult, because he is predetermined to shrink from the dangerous consequences his insults might threaten to bring upon him; and by indulging in the practice of bullying, he is in fact playing a game in which there is a great deal of counterfeit reputation to be won, and much base vanity to be gratified, but little or nothing to be lost by him: you may, at the end of the game, kick him in the breech, and he will politely thank you for so distinguishing a mark of attention, provided you call not upon him for the stakes. His great enjoyment is in attacking men from whom he can win off hand, but he is amazingly shy of those who know how to play. An instance of this kind occurred within my own observation at Ostend, in 1815, in which the character of a swaggerer was completely developed and effectually disgraced. The person I allude to, belonged to one of the regiments which were sent out to garrison Ostend, farther than which town they did not proceed in the campaign. An officer, who had not only served at Waterloo, but in most of the actions in the Peninsula, was insulted in a coffee-room by a low person, attached to one of the departments of the army; and of so inferior a rank, that he chose rather to report his gross misconduct to his commanding officer than to degrade himself by fighting a duel with him. The Swaggerer, who was a needy fellow, and one who would be the bottle friend of anybody who would treat him, was, it appeared, upon terms of intimacy with the person who insulted the officer; and, in his defence, thought proper to display himself, a few nights after the other had been reported. The result proved, that in this he made a totally false estimate of the officer's courage, and was deceived in the confidence or hope that an insult from him would be met by the same return as that given to his low companion. Under this idea he placed himself, in company with others of his own class, at a table in the coffee-room, close to one where the officer alluded to was sitting, engaged at a game of backgammon with a friend. The mode of attack which he then adopted, was to allude, in the most insulting terms, to the affront given a few days before to the officer; and in so loud a voice, that it was evident he intended that the allusions should be heard; he talked of white feathers, “shy cocks,” &c. all which the officer appeared to take no notice of, so that the talker became “stronger in his strength,” and blustered away in such a manner as made all who heard him suppose he was a most determined fire-eater, and that his stomach would digest lead with as much ease as a cock ostrich's would a horse's shoe. Nothing farther took place in the affair that evening, and all parties separated; but next morning the denouement was brought about, which I have no doubt was as little expected by Mr. Swagger as that he himself was not a “monstrous excellent” gentleman. The officer's friend called upon him ere he was out of bed; and in sending up his card, intimated that he would wait until the gentleman had “made his toilette.” Word was immediately returned, that he might “walk up.” On perceiving the countenance and air of the visitor, the hero of cups, who had not yet stirred from his bed, made an effort to conceal his fears by a forced compliment; and when he learned the nature of the visit clearly, and saw that there was no loop-hole open for a jump, he declared solemnly he did not recollect a single word which passed from his lips the night before, and offered to make the most ample apology. He was therefore requested to rise, which he did with the obedience of a timid child; and having done so, was directed to write down, word after word, one of the most humiliating apologies that a determined head could dictate; and having done so, was farther requested to appear in the coffee-room where the insult passed, and to read the paper to the company. Even this he agreed to; but it was only an agreement, for he never appeared at the appointed place; his regiment was ordered home to be disbanded, so he started off to England by the next packet. The apology, however, was read in the coffee-room, and afforded an admirable lesson to any swaggerer who might have been present. Our French neighbours, who would have us to think they would fly to the field of single combat as readily as would a cock pheasant, are not without the swaggering white feather. I recollect some instances of this—particularly when the British army arrived victorious at Bordeaux, the field of ancient British glory. Scarcely an officer or soldier could, whilst we were there, escape a fight of some sort. Our soldiers, who cared neither for duelling nor its laws, levelled, in good style, the insulters, by a few “facers,” À la Cribb, and settled the contest by committing their antagonists' heads to chancery; but the officers had as many duels to provide for daily, while amongst the Gascons, as they had tradesmen's bills; all which they settled as honourable men should settle their accounts—by paying off every one in his own coin. One night, while in the theatre, an Irish gentleman and myself were quietly enjoying the performance (the house crowded with British officers and fine women; for the beauties of Bordeaux fought no duels with us, except those in which nothing but the heart is to be lost, they having nothing else to lose), when an officer of one of the French corps took up a position exactly behind my friend, and in a fierce and brutal manner opened a volley of abuse upon him, in French, interlarding his language with English extracts, such as “Beef-stek!” “Ros-beef!” and then serving up the vegetable “pomme de terre,” secundum artem; nothing of which my high-spirited but unfrenchified friend comprehended in the slightest degree. All the notice he took of the outrage was by saying to me, “This French fellow is making a great fuss; what the devil is he jabbering about?” Had I answered by stating the fact, Heaven help the Frenchman! he would have been in the pit in a second; but knowing the irascibility of my Hibernian companion, I replied evasively, determined to take a better opportunity for resentment. The play went on, and the assailant went away; but I knew that he attended the theatre every night. I informed my friend when we went home of what had happened: his rage became almost ungovernable. We of course proceeded to the theatre the next night, and met the Frenchman in the saloon. He was leaning against a table, taking an ice; and, as previously arranged, one of us took our station close upon each side of him, and began a dialogue in English, of the same cast as the insulting soliloquy in French, the previous night, introducing certain French words which were not to be misunderstood. This we were wrong in doing; but my friend insisted that “it would be useless to call him out without taking a little bit of satisfaction out of him, for his impudence.” Accordingly, we enjoyed a considerable quantity of fun, at the expense of the Frenchman, who at length blustered out and demanded what we meant, in a most cut-and-thrust manner. “What does he say?” said my friend to me. I told him. “O faith, I'll soon answer you, Sir,” said he, and seizing the Frenchman's nose, (a long one) he tweaked it in such a tortuous and effective style, as made the mouth beneath it roar, “Nothing now but immediate satisfaction.” After this I explained the matter, and the Frenchman seemed astonished at the aspect which affairs had taken. He departed, assuring us that he would return in half an hour with his friend. We informed him that he would find us in the theatre. There we remained, to the last moment of its being open: but had we stayed a month, we should not have had another word about the nose affair. Thus, even in the army, both of England and France, a cowardly braggart will occasionally show himself. This, however, very seldom happens, owing to the certainty of disgrace, which attends the exposure of their false pretensions. Another character is also to be met with in the army, nearly as injurious to its internal peace as the swaggerer. This is the man who, from weakness of judgment, flies to duelling for the rectification of every trifling dispute—one who thinks that a mere contradiction is “the lie.” These are not sanguinary heroes, and will fire in the air, or exchange shots with the most perfect good-nature; but they must argue by duel, and the first pop settles the argument. An example of this is within my recollection:—a Major W. and a Captain W. fell into a most trivial dispute. Cards passed. The parties met—the seconds and the principals, as polite and good-humoured as if they had assembled to shoot at a target for a wager. “Beg the Major to move a little to the right.” “The Captain may have our pistols with pleasure.” “We are much obliged to the Major,” and so on. They both fired at once—both fell, and then in the coolest manner possible, addressed each other thus: “Captain, are you wounded?” “I am, Major.” “So am I—mortally!” There was but one house near, and in one room were these unhappy victims of a diseased refinement obliged to remain for a whole night, before the termination of which Major W. died. The other recovered, after a long confinement from a most severe wound in the hip. A third character is one who goes to extremities at once, and deals out the lie or the blow in the heat of passion. There are few quarrels that cannot be amicably arranged by judicious seconds, if the lie or blow have not passed; but those who deal in such acts or expressions, generally lose their lives in duelling. Many have fallen in this way, and many but narrowly escaped, owing to the almost impossibility of settling the matter without a bloody or protracted combat. Two officers, a Lieutenant and a Surgeon, quarreled in this way at Ostend, in 1815. They were intimate friends, and had differed in a public coffee-room about a trifling bet at backgammon, when the Lieutenant gave the unqualified lie to the other in a loud voice, and in the presence of several gentlemen. The Surgeon instantly knocked him down, and in his rage kicked him out of the room. A message was sent next day from the Lieutenant at twelve o'clock, and a meeting was appointed to take place at four, outside the ramparts. The parties met, each attended by a second. There was also a mutual friend, and a Flemish surgeon. The combatants took their distance at ten paces. The earth was covered with snow, and afforded, therefore, a greater chance of a hit from either side; but the evening was drawing in dusky. There was scarcely a word spoken by any of the party; and from the nature of the quarrel, no hope of separating without blood was entertained. The combatants stood back to back, close together, and each marched five paces, when the words “halt—front—fire” were given. They fired: the Surgeon in a very elevated direction above his antagonist's head, the Lieutenant point blank at his man without effect. The former fired as described without letting his second previously know that he intended to do so, and (as he afterwards declared) for the purpose of terminating the affair; he feeling satisfied that his antagonist, although the first aggressor, was in no way his creditor. This, however, was unnoticed by both his own second and that of his opponent. It was now demanded by the Lieutenant's party whether the Surgeon was disposed to apologize, and answered in the negative. The pistols were again loaded, and the Surgeon, seeing that nothing but blood or apology could terminate the matter, proposed by his second to advance two paces closer every round. This was declined by the Lieutenant's party. The word was again given, and it was evident that neither of the combatants intended to leave their next shot to chance, for each took deliberate aim while one could count ten; yet, strange to say, (although both well-known good shots) neither ball took effect. They certainly could not have been many hairs' breadth from fate. I saw the aim of the pistols from a hedge close by; both men were as steady as rocks, and I fully expected to see both fall. It was now getting dark: the apology was again demanded, and again refused. Another round was inevitable; but there were no more balls which would fit both pistols. It was, therefore, proposed that the seconds should return to the town for them. This was agreed to, and the combatants returned both to a cottage or farm-house near, where they coolly sat by the kitchen fire while the balls were preparing—at least half an hour—for it was necessary to cast the balls. It was by this time settled night, but the moon rose very bright; which, together with the reflection from the snow, gave a tolerably good light. The men took their ground once more—all parties silent—again was the word given—and again deliberate and slower aim was taken. One pistol missed fire, the other was harmless. There had now been three hours spent: the seconds, however, consulted, and both the combatants shook hands. It was a heart-sickening scene to all; and more so when it was observed that each of the opponents expressed themselves happy that the other had escaped. It is but justice to say, that when the surgeon informed him (all being then over) that he had fired in the air, the most generous assurance was given that if it had been known to the Lieutenant's party at the time, they would not have fired another shot: the surgeon declared that he did so from a repugnance to fire at his friend, when he felt that he had taken summary satisfaction the night before; he therefore fired obliquely, and not palpably upwards, in hopes that one shot would satisfy the Lieutenant without affording a chance to misconstrue the surgeon's good feelings towards him. Thus terminated a duel, which, but for something like a miracle, would have been fatal to one or both of these mutual friends. The lie was an irritating insult; but had the insulted acted prudently, he would not have returned it by a blow, and therefore would have held a greater power over his opponent. He should have sent him an immediate message, and the consequences most likely would have been that an apology as public as the insult would have been made: in my mind, a far greater triumph than the death of the insulter, for such is the moral humility from conviction of having committed an injury; and the atonement is ample. If no insult except a blow (or even that in some cases) were returned on the moment, but cool and determined steps taken for gentlemanly satisfaction, there would be but few fatal duels; for few men when under the influence of calm reason (a state seldom attending the man while insulting) will hesitate to make every amends in his power. If otherwise, then is the pistol the friend. In almost every case of duel, it is not the wish to kill, or injure, but to vindicate our wounded pride or honour, that urges us to satisfaction; therefore should every fight be under the direction of a prudent and honourable friend, who will neither carelessly throw away the life entrusted to his charge, nor compromise its honour. After an insult is given, the sooner the insulted cuts off communication with the insulter, the better; then matters will have the best chance of terminating as they ought. If this maxim were universal, how many lives would have been saved! how many lives, also, which have dwindled out in sorrow and repining, for the death of friends by rash duels, would have passed without remorse and pain! A Major |
|
