A DEBT OF HONOUR.
This was a proceeding, by warrant, for an assault and battery, arising out of the non-settlement of a debt of honour.
Mr. Elias Simmons, the complainant, is of the children of Israel; a fat, round man, of a pleasant countenance, and addicted to luxuriating in brown stout and a pipe, in the little back parlour at the Cannon Tavern—a comfortable public-house, somewhere in Knightsbridge. The defendant, Mr. Jacques Breton, is a native of Switzerland; tall, gaunt, and elderly, with a nice sense of honour, "sudden and quick in quarrel," and, withal, in the practice of sometimes taking a half-gill of old sherry in a goblet of pure spring water, at the Cannon Tavern aforesaid. He appeared before the magistrate with a large black silk handkerchief bound round his head, so as to cover one of his eyes.
On the day named in the warrant, it being between four and five o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. Elias Simmons was in the little back parlour at the tavern aforesaid, luxuriating as aforesaid, and several other gentlemen, then and there assembled, were luxuriating in like manner, when the door opened, and in stalked Mr. Jacques Breton; who, having seated himself, rang the bell and ordered his sherry and water as usual. Now it so happened that Mr. Jacques Breton was indebted to Mr. Elias Simmons in the sum of two shillings and sixpence; and, moreover, the said debt had been standing almost time immemorial, so that Mr. Elias Simmons was weary of waiting for it; and, as it was a "debt of honour," he began to entertain doubts that Mr. Jacques Breton meant to avail himself of that circumstance, and forget to pay it. He did not presume to say that such was the case, but he entertained that opinion; and the moment he saw Mr. Jacques Breton enter the room, he determined in his own mind to put it to the proof. Howbeit, knowing Mr. Jacques Breton's constitutional irascibility, and unwilling to wound his feelings before the English gentlemen present, he addressed him in French, viz., "Monsieur—voulez-vous—donner moi—mon leetel demiécu, monsieur?" To which civil interrogation—put with all the good humour in the world—Mr. Jacques Breton instantly replied, "Ahah! sacré! vat? you want to 'front me!"—and seizing a heavy cue from a bagatelle board on the table, he grasped it in both hands, and, before the company could interfere, he gave Mr. Elias Simmons a "thundering thwack" on the bare head, which shivered his tobacco-pipe into a thousand pieces, and laid him prostrate among the spittoons!
For this outrageous and totally unanticipated attack, Mr. Elias Simmons now sought redress from the laws of that country in which he has the honour of sojourning.
The magistrate having strictly inquired whether no other provocation had been given, and having been assured there had not, asked Mr. Jacques Breton what he had to say in excuse for such violence?
Mr. Jacques Breton prepared for his defence by throwing back his head and lifting up the black silk handkerchief before-mentioned; and having placed himself in this unpicturesque position, he began—"Ahah! monsieur—see—he broke my eye! Voilà, monsieur! see my eye! Voilà!"
It was very evident that beneath his black handkerchief he had a dreadful black eye, and the magistrate asked how he came by it?
The witnesses replied that it was done in disarming him of the cue, whilst complainant was still sprawling among the spittoons.
Mr. Jacques Breton proceeded with his defence. "I vas ver much vex at Monsieur Simmon," said he, "because I vood pay ven it satisfied myself. I vas so mush up—vat you call d—n angry, dat de taut come I vood punise him, ahah. But, monsieur, de strike vas not sufficient to murder von littel—von vara littel fly!"
Monsieur Jacques Breton had nothing better to offer in his defence, and after having repeated the same things half-a-dozen times over, he was delivered into the iron custody of the turnkey till he should find bail for his appearance at the Sessions.