“The facts of this affair, however, reached Canada as soon as Mr. Green did, and of course were bruited about. The officers of his regiment, one of whom had a pique against him, caused it to be brought under the notice of his brother officers, one of whom, a Captain Wilson, insisted that Green should be sent to Coventry, unless he went back directly and fought Ben Price. Green, therefore, set to work, and practised for five hours every day, until he could hit a dollar at ten paces nine times out of ten. He then came to New York, and challenged Ben Price. They fought at Hoboken, and Ben was killed on the first fire. The seconds ran off, and Green took a small boat, crossed the river, and boarded a vessel in the bay just about to sail for England. The body of Ben was found at Hoboken, with a piece of paper attached to his breast, on which were inscribed the following words:—‘This is Benjamin Price, boarding in Veney Street, New York,—take care of him.’ The body was brought to the city quietly, and he was buried in New York.”
“Some years afterwards, Captain Wilson of the British army, whom we have mentioned above, arrived in this city, from England, on his way to Canada, and put up at the Washington Hotel. One day, at dinner, the conversation turned on the death of Ben Price, and the manner thereof. Captain Wilson remarked that he had been mainly instrumental in bringing about the duel, and detailed the circumstances connected therewith. This statement was carried immediately to Stephen Price, who was lying ill of the gout, at home: his friends say that he henceforth implicitly obeyed the instructions of the physician, obtained thereby a short cessation of the gout, and was enabled to hobble out of doors, his lower extremities swaddled in flannel. His first course was to seek the Washington Hotel, and his first inquiry was, ‘Is Captain Wilson within?’—‘He is,’ said the waiter.—‘Show me to his room,’ said Stephen, and he was shown accordingly. He hobbled up stairs with great difficulty, cursing at intervals the gout and the captain with equal vehemence. He at last entered the captain’s room, his feet cased in mocassins, and his hand grasping a stick. Captain Wilson rose to receive him, when he said, ‘Are you Captain Wilson?’—‘That is my name,’ replied the gallant captain. ‘Then, Sir, my name is Stephen Price. You see, Sir, I can scarcely put one foot before the other; I am afflicted with the gout. My object in coming here, is to insult you. Shall I have to knock you down, or will you consider what I have said a sufficient insult, and act accordingly?’—‘No, Sir,’ replied the captain, smiling, ‘I shall consider what you have said quite sufficient, and shall act accordingly. You shall hear from me.’”
“In due time there came a message from the captain to Stephen Price; time, place, and weapons were appointed, and early one morning a barge left New York, in which were seated, face to face, Stephen Price and Captain Wilson and two friends: they all landed at Bedlaw’s Island, the principals took their positions, and Captain Wilson fell dead at the first shot. The captain was buried in the vault there, and Price and the two seconds returned to New York; but his friends (Wilson’s) thought that he had gone suddenly to Canada, and always thought that he had died suddenly, or had been killed on his way to England to join his regiment.”
It is surprising that in a country where such an event as the death of General Hamilton could be productive of such a general feeling of regret, duels of the most wanton and desperate nature so frequently occur. But a very few years since a furious outbreak of temper was manifested in the state of Louisiana, where a Mr. Labranch, president of the legislative assembly, as he was about taking the chair, was assaulted by a Mr. Grymes, who endeavoured to strike him with a stick, when he drew a pocket pistol and fired at the aggressor, but missed him, and Grymes, in his turn, drew out a horse pistol loaded with ball and slugs, and fired at him. The ball grazed the head of a senator who was seated near the chairman, and who received two slugs in his arm and hand. This occurred in 1835.
The same year a duel took place between a lieutenant of the American Navy, and three passengers in a steam-boat, two of whom were brothers. The parties landed; the lieutenant received a ball in the hip, and one of the brothers fell dead on his fire. The surviving brother sought to avenge him, but also received a mortal wound. The third survivor now insisted upon satisfaction from the lieutenant’s second, whom he shot in the breast; he then obliged the lieutenant, although exhausted from loss of blood, to satisfy him still further, when he mortally wounded him.
Fighting with rifles and muskets, sometimes by beat of drum, is not an uncommon method of settling an American dispute; and frequently, as in the case of their disputes with our officers at Gibraltar, Americans have insisted upon fighting double-handed, or resting the pistol to level it on the left arm: a proposal made to one of our officers, a Captain G——, who had lost the use of his right arm in the Pyrenees, but who contrived with his left to wound very severely the desperado who sought to take such an unfair advantage of an honourable infirmity. These differences, to which we shall refer elsewhere, must have led to the most fatal consequences, had not the American commodore very wisely put out to sea.
It is to be lamented that this recklessness of life, that prevails in the United States of America, should have extended its baneful influence over our West India colonies. Both the British and French creoles are hasty in the expression of their displeasure, and vindictive in seeking to avenge their real or supposed wrongs. This circumstance is perhaps to be attributed to the great mortality which afflicts these unhealthy regions, as the constant sight of death, and the incessant tolling of the passing bell, must in a great measure strip death of many of its terrors. It is also to be observed, that the creoles, who enjoy a short but a merry life, are much addicted to the pleasures of the table, and balls generally succeed the festival, when the passions, excited by previous stimulants, predispose to a captious and jealous susceptibility; and wine and women reign paramount in the assembly. To this circumstance may be superadded the constant dissensions in colonial politics, where the representatives of the place are often in collision with the government; and it is to be lamented, that too frequently the crown lawyers themselves, instead of endeavouring to check the evils that must arise from such a want of concert and harmony, are the first to disturb the public peace; and attorney-general and solicitor-general are occasionally the most troublesome and pugnacious members of society.
A very severe lesson was given to a noted French duellist in Jamaica, by the captain of a West Indiaman, which is worthy of record. Henri d’Egville was a creole of St. Domingo, and had obtained great notoriety from the frequent quarrels and fatal duels in which he had been engaged. He was dining one day at Kingston, in company with several persons, amongst whom was a Scotch captain, of the name of Stewart. The meeting was convivial, and various songs and toasts were called for and given. At last D’Egville requested Stewart to sing a Gaëlic song, which the Scotchman declined on the plea of his ignorance of that language. The Frenchman insisted, when Stewart sang a Scotch drinking song, which D’Egville, who understood but little English, took for a Gaëlic strain. Here the matter ended, the party broke up, and Stewart repaired to his vessel, accompanied by a friend, when the conversation turned upon duelling, and the reputation that D’Egville had obtained of being a dangerous man. Stewart expressed his horror of duelling, and admitted that it had been his misfortune to kill one of his intimate friends, of the name of Cameron, in a hostile meeting, occasioned by some difference between them concerning a lady, when Cameron had struck him. The Scotchman expressed his deep sorrow for that melancholy event, which had ever since embittered his existence.
While the parties were thus conversing, they perceived a boat pulling towards the ship, and Stewart recognised in it a Captain Wilthorpe, an officer in the Columbian service, a professed duellist, and the constant and worthy companion of D’Egville. Stewart had strange forebodings at this unexpected visit, which were soon realised. Wilthorpe came on board, and, after politely saluting the captain and his friend, delivered a message from Henri d’Egville, who had considered himself mystified by Stewart’s having sought to impose upon him an English song for a Gaëlic specimen.
The Scotch captain expressed his surprise at this communication, and at the same time declared his firm resolution not to fight a duel after the melancholy result of a former one in which he had been engaged. Wilthorpe withdrew and returned to his boat. Stewart, shortly after having occasion to go on shore, met D’Egville on horseback, when the latter rode up to him, struck him with a horsewhip, and galloped off.