Chapter XXXV
"He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides: to wear them, like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger."
SHAKESPEARE.
The colonel, in the meantime, had returned to the house where he wasresiding, when he was immediately accosted by Captain Carrington and theother gentlemen who had been let into the secret of the plot. During hiswalk home the colonel had been ruminating on his dismissal, and had notquite made up his mind whether he ought or ought not to resent the conductof Mr Sullivan. Naturally more inclined for peace than war, by the timethat he had arrived home he had resolved to pocket the affront, whenCaptain Carrington called him on one side, and obtained from him arecapitulation of what had passed; which probably never would have beengiven if the colonel had not considered the communication as confidential.This, however, did not suit the intentions of Captain Carrington, who feltinclined for more mischief; and, when the colonel had concluded hisnarrative, he replied, "Upon my word, colonel, as you observe, this conducton the part of Mr Sullivan is not exactly what can be permitted by usmilitary men. I hardly know how to advise; indeed, I would not take theresponsibility; however, I will consult with Mr S---- and Mr G----, and ifyou will leave your honour in our hands, depend upon it we will do youstrict justice:" and Captain Carrington quitted the colonel, who would haveexpostulated, and, walking up to the other gentlemen, entered into arecapitulation of the circumstances. A wink of his eye, as his back wasturned to the colonel, fully expressed to the others the tenor of theadvice which they were to offer.
"Well, gentlemen, what is your opinion?" said the captain, as he concludedhis narrative.
"I think," replied Mr S----, with a serious face, "there can be butone--our gallant friend has been most grossly insulted. I think," continuedhe, addressing the colonel, who had quitted the sofa, in his anxiety toknow the issue of their debate, "that I should most decidedly ask him whathe meant."
"Or rather demand an apology," observed Mr G----.
"Which Mr Sullivan, as a man of honour, is bound to offer, and the colonel,as a gentleman and an officer, has a right to insist upon. Do you not thinkso, Captain Carrington?" said Mr S----.
"Why, I always have been more inclined to be a peacemaker than otherwise,if I can," replied Captain Carrington. "If our gallant friend the colonelis not sure that Mr Sullivan did use the words, 'I won't trouble you tocall again,'--are you positive as to the exact words, colonel?"
"Why, to the best of my recollection," replied the colonel, "I rather thinkthose were the words. I may be mistaken:--it was certainly--most certainly,something to that effect."
"Were they 'requesting you to call again?'" said Captain Carrington.
"No, no, that they were certainly not."
"Well, they could be but one or the other. Then, gentlemen, the case isclear--the words were uttered," said Mr S----. "Now Captain Carrington,what would you advise?"
"I really am vexed to say that I do not see how our friend, Colonel Ellice,can do otherwise than demand an apology, or a meeting."
"Could not I treat him with contempt, Captain Carrington?" demanded thecolonel.
"Why, not exactly," replied Mr S----. "Sullivan is of good family--theSullivans of Bally cum Poop. He was some time in the 48th Regiment, and wasobliged to retire from it for challenging his colonel."
"Well, gentlemen," replied the colonel, "I suppose I must leave my honourin your hands, although it does appear to me that our time is very shortfor such arrangements. We sail early to-morrow morning, Captain Carrington;at daylight I think you said, and it will be too late to-night."
"My dear colonel, I will risk a rebuke from the Admiralty," replied thecaptain, "rather than not allow you to heal your wounded honour. I willstay till the day after tomorrow, should it be requisite for thearrangement of this business."
"Thank you, many thanks," replied the colonel, with an expression ofdisappointment. "Then I had better prepare the letter?"
"Carta por senhor commandante," interrupted a Portuguese, presenting aletter to the colonel; "O senhor embaixo; queir risposta."
The colonel opened the letter, which contained Mr Sullivan'schallenge,--pistols--tomorrow morn, at daylight--one mile on the road toMachico.
The colonel's countenance changed two or three shades less yellow as heread the contents: recovering himself with a giggle, he handed the letterto Captain Carrington.
"You see, captain, the gentleman has saved me the trouble--He, he, he!these little affairs are common to gentlemen of our profession--He, he!and, since the gentleman wishes it, why, I presume--He, he! that we mustnot disappoint him."
"Since you are both of one mind, I think there will be some business done,"observed Mr S----. "I perceive that he is in earnest by the place named forthe meeting. We generally settle our affairs of honour in the Loo-fields;but I suppose he is afraid of interruption.--They want an answer, colonel."
"Oh! he shall have one," replied the colonel, tittering with excitement;"he shall have one. What hour does he say?"
"Oh, we will arrange all that. Come, colonel," said Captain Carrington,taking him familiarly by the arm, and leading him away.
The answer was despatched, and they sat down to dinner. Many were thefriendly and encouraging glasses of wine drank with the colonel, whorecovered his confidence, and was then most assiduous in his attentions tothe ladies, to prove his perfect indifference. He retired at an early hour,nevertheless.
In the meantime Mr Sullivan had received the answer, and had retired to hiscounting-house, to arrange his affairs in case of accident. He had not seenhis wife since the _fracas_. And now we will leave them both for a while,and make a few remarks upon duelling.
Most people lament, many abuse, the custom as barbarous; but barbarous itis not, or it would not be necessary in a state of high civilisation. It istrue, that by the practice we offend laws human and divine; but, at thesame time, it must be acknowledged, that neither law nor religion can keepsociety in such good order, or so restrain crime. The man who would defythe penalty of the law, and the commandments of his God against seductionwill, however, pause in his career, when he finds that there are brothersto avenge an injured sister. And why so?--because in this world we live asif we were in a tavern, careless of what the bill is which we run up, butdreading the day of reckoning, which the pistol of our adversary may bringat once. Thus duelling may be considered as a necessary evil, arising outof our wickedness; a crime in itself rare in occurrence, but which preventsothers of equal magnitude from occurring every day; and, until the world isreformed, nothing can prevent it. Men will ever be governed by theestimation of the world: and until the whole world decide againstduelling--until it has become the usage to offer the other cheek upon thefirst having been smitten--then, and not till then, will the practice bediscontinued. When a man refuses to fight a duel, he is stigmatised as acoward, his company is shunned, and unless he is a wretch without feeling,his life becomes a burden. Men have refused from purely conscientiousmotives, and have subsequently found themselves so miserable, from theneglect and contumely of the world, that they have _backslided_, and havefought to recover their place in society. There have been some few--veryfew--who, having refused from conscientious motives, have adhered to theseresolutions, because they feared God and not man. There was more courage intheir refusal than if they had run the gauntlet of a hundred duels; a moralcourage which is most rare,--preferring the contempt of man to the wrath ofGod. It is, however, the most trying situation on this side of the grave.To refuse to fight a duel, is in fact to obey the stern injunction, "Leaveall, and follow me."
For my part, I never have and never will fight a duel, if I can help it. Ihave a double motive for my refusal; in the first place, I am afraid tooffend the Deity; and in the next, I am afraid of being shot. I have,therefore, made up my mind never to meet a man except upon what I considerfair terms; for when a man stakes h
is life, the gambling becomes ratherserious, and an equal value should be laid down by each party. If, then, aman is not so big--not of equal consequence in the consideration of hisfellow-mites--not married, with five small children, as I am--not having somuch to lose,--why, it is clear that I risk more than he does; the stake isnot equal, and I therefore shall not meet him. If, on the contrary, hepresents a broader target--if he is my superior in rank, more patriarchalat home, or has so many hundreds per annum more--why, then thedisadvantages will be on his side; and I trust I am too much of agentleman, even if he offers to waive all these considerations, to permithim to fight. It would be _swindling_ the man out of his life.
The best advice I can offer to my friends under these unpleasantcircumstances is, first to try if they cannot persuade their adversaries tomake an apology: and if they will not, why, then, let them make onethemselves; for although the making an apology creates a very uneasysensation, and goes very much _against_ the stomach, yet, depend upon it, awell-directed bullet creates a much more uneasy feeling, and, what isworse, goes _directly into it_.
We left Mrs Sullivan sobbing in her anger, when her husband bounded out ofthe room in his heroics. At the time that he made the threat she was in nohumour to regard it; but as her anger gradually subsided, so did her alarmincrease. Notwithstanding that she was a coquette, she was as warmlyattached to her husband as he was to her; if she trifled, it was only forher amusement, and to attract that meed of admiration to which she had beenaccustomed previous to her marriage, and which no woman can renounce on herfirst entry into that state. Men cannot easily pardon jealousy in theirwives; but women are more lenient towards their husbands. Love,hand-in-hand with confidence, is the more endearing; yet, when confidencehappens to be out of the way, Love will sometimes associate with Jealousy;still, as this disagreeable companion proves that Love is present, and ashis presence is what a woman and all a woman asks, she suffers Jealousy,nay, sometimes even becomes partial to him, for the sake of Love.
Now, that Mrs Sullivan had been most unjustly accused, the reader mustknow, and, moreover, that she had great reason to feel irritated. When hertears had subsided, for some time she continued in her chair, awaiting,with predetermined dignity, the appearance and apology of Mr Sullivan.After some time had elapsed, she wondered why he did not come. Dinner wasannounced, and she certainly expected to meet him then, and she waited forsome minutes to see if he would not take this opportunity of coming up toher;--but no. She then presumed that he was still in the sulks, and had satdown to table without her, and therefore, as he would not come--why, shewent; but he was not at the table. Every minute she expected him:--Had hebeen told?--Where was he?--He was in the counting-house, was the reply. MrsSullivan swallowed a few mouthfuls, and then returned upstairs. Tea wasmade--announced to Mr Sullivan, yet he came not. It remained on the table;the cup poured out for him was cold. The urn had been sent down, withstrict injunctions to keep the water boiling, and all was cleared away. MrsSullivan fidgeted and ruminated, and became uneasy. He never had been atvariance for so many hours since their marriage, and all for nothing! Atlast the clock struck ten, and she rang the bell.--"Where is MrSullivan?"--"In the counting-house."--"Tell him that I wish to speak withhim." Mr Sullivan had not answered him, and the door was locked inside.This intelligence created a little irritation, and checked the tide ofaffection. "Before all the servants--so inconsiderate--it was quiteinsulting!" With a heavy heart, Mrs Sullivan lighted the chamber candle,and went upstairs to bed. Once she turned down the stairs two or threesteps, intending to go to the counting-house door; but her pride restrainedher, and she reascended. In an hour Mrs Sullivan was in bed, expecting herhusband every minute, listening at the slightest sound for his footsteps;but two o'clock came, and he was still away. She could bear up against hersuspense and agitation no longer; she rose, threw on her _robe de nuit_,and descended the stairs. All the family had long retired, and everythingwas still: her light foot made no noise as she tripped along. As she nearedthe door she perceived the light gleaming through the key-hole. Whether topeep or to speak first--he might be fast asleep. Curiosity prevailed--shelooked through the key-hole, and perceived her husband very busy writing.After he had finished his letter he threw down the pen, pressed hisforehead with both hands, and groaned deeply. Mrs Sullivan could refrain nolonger. "William! William!" cried she, in a soft, imploring voice: but shewas not answered. Again and again did she repeat his name, until an answer,evidently wrung from him by impatience, was returned--"It is too late now."
"Too late, dear William! Yes, it is very late--it's almost three o'clock.Let me in, William--pray do!"
"Leave me alone: it's the last favour I shall probably ever request ofyou."
"The last favour! Oh, William! you frighten me so:--dear William--do--dolet me in. I'm so cold--I shall die:--only for one moment, and I'll blessyou. Pray do, William!"
It was not until after repeated and repeated entreaties of this kind thatMr Sullivan, worn out by importunity, at last opened the door.
"Mary, I am very busy; I have opened the door to tell you so, and torequest that you will not interrupt me. Now oblige me by going to bed."
But getting in was everything; and a young and pretty wife, in dishabilleand in tears, imploring, entreating, conjuring, promising, coaxing, andfondling, is not quite so easy to be detached when once she has gainedaccess. In less than half an hour Mr Sullivan was obliged to confess thather conduct had been the occasion of a meeting being agreed upon for thatmorning, and that he was arranging his affairs in case of a melancholytermination.
"You now, Mary, must see the consequences of your conduct. By yourimprudence, your husband's life is risked, probably sacrificed; but this isno time to be at variance. I forgive you, Mary--from my soul I do, as Ihope for pardon myself."
Mrs Sullivan burst into a paroxysm of tears; and it was some time beforeshe could answer. "William," cried she, energetically, "as you well say,this is no time to be at variance, neither is it a time for falsehood. WhatI stated to you this morning was true;--if not, may I never hope forpardon! and may heaven never be opened to me! You have beendeceived--grossly deceived; for what purpose, I know not: but so it is. Donot, therefore, be rash. Send for all who were present, and examine them;and if I have told you a falsehood, put me away from you, to the shame andseclusion I shall so well deserve."
"It is too late, Mary; I have challenged him, and he has accepted it. Ifain would believe you; but he told me so himself."
"Then he told a lie! a base, cowardly lie! which sinks him beneath thenotice of a gentleman. Let me go with you and confront him. Only let himdare to say it to my face; 'tis all I ask, William, that I may clear myfame with you. Come to bed--nay, nay, don't refuse me," and poor MrsSullivan again burst into tears.
We must leave the couple to pass the remaining hours in misery, which,however, reclaimed them both from faults. Mrs Sullivan never coquettedmore; and her husband was, after this, never jealous but on trifles.
The colonel was just as busy on his side in preparing for the chances ofthe morrow: these chances, however, were never tried; for CaptainCarrington and his confederates had made their arrangements. Mr Sullivanwas already dressed, his wife clinging to him in frantic despair, when aletter was left at his door, the purport of which was that Colonel Ellicehad discovered that his companions had been joking with him, when they hadasserted that during his state of inebriety he had offered any rudeness toMrs Sullivan. As, therefore, no offence had been committed, Colonel Ellicetook it for granted that Mr Suillivan would be satisfied with theexplanation.
Mrs Sullivan, who devoured the writing over her husband's shoulder, sankdown on her knees in gratitude, and was raised to her husband's arms, who,as he embraced her, acknowledged his injustice.
The same party who wrote this epistle also framed another in imitation ofMr Sullivan's handwriting, in which Mr Sullivan acquainted the colonel,that having been informed by a mutual friend that he had been in errorrelative to Colonel Ellice's behaviour of the ni
ght before, he begged towithdraw the challenge, and apologise for having suspected the colonel ofincivility, &c. That having been informed that Colonel Ellice embarked atan early hour, he regretted that he would not be able to pay his respectsto him, and assure him, &c.
The receipt of this letter, just as the colonel had finished a cup ofcoffee, preparatory to starting, made him, as a single man, quite as happyas the married couple: he hastened to put the letter into the hands ofCaptain Carrington, little thinking that he was handing it over to thewriter.
"You observe, Captain Carrington, he won't come to the scratch. Perhaps aswell for him that he does not," said the colonel, chuckling in his glee.
The breakfast was early; the colonel talked big, and explained the wholeaffair to the ladies, quite unconscious that everyone in the company knewthat the hoax had been played upon him. Before noon, everyone hadre-embarked on board of their respective ships, and their lofty sails wereexpanded to a light and favouring breeze.
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