The frequent occurrence of duels, in former times, may also be attributed to the mode of living in days fortunately gone by. Hard drinking is now rarely heard of; and when it was in fashion, insults were often given under the influence of liquor, and vindicated under the plea of excitement from the preceding night’s excesses. In Ireland it was not uncommon for parties to sit up carousing during the entire night preceding the murderous meeting; and the break of day, through the casement of the hall of revelry, was the signal for departure to the field. One of the greatest curses of intemperance is the extreme susceptibility which it gives our pride and vanity; and if there is any ground for the proverb, in vino veritas, it may be attributed to the fact, that under this potent influence we sometimes know ourselves better than in our more sober hours. The pangs of repentance are more bitter, although they may be transient in these moments of excited reflection, when the past, the present, and the future are exaggerated in all their circumstances by an imagination morbidly vivid. It is then that we love, and hate, with all the energy of our hearts; that all our evil passions, and sometimes our good feelings, prevail; for the miser, over his cups, may become generous; the barbarous, humane; and the man who has perpetrated the most reckless crimes, will weep with apparent anguish over ideal woes. Were it possible to ascertain the influence of intemperance in the many duels that have been fought, it would doubtless appear that many of these fatal quarrels would never have taken place in a sober society.
It is also to be observed, that duels, when of constant recurrence, became the subject of general conversation, and duels, like suicide, bear a fashionably contagious character, which spreads widely in society, and then the most mistaken of criminals fancies that he must also avenge certain wrongs, or rid himself of an uncertain life. The one feels a pleasure in killing a supposed enemy, and the other seeks a riddance from pain by killing himself. The one thinks that he must establish a character of courage, not to be despised by society, and the suicide bids farewell to a society which he disgraces; whereas, neither the one nor the other in these desperate acts displays a particle of true courage.
In the present state of society, insults to women are comparatively rare; and indeed, unless a person, who in the slightest degree claims the character of a gentleman, is labouring under the brutalizing influence of liquor, it is scarcely possible to imagine how he can so far forget every manly attribute as to offend a being whom nature has placed under our protection, and to whose assistance, when in danger, we rush instinctively. This cause of duelling is therefore seldom noticed.
Leaving off the wearing of swords, as I have already observed, rendered bloody frays less frequent; but at the same time, the adoption of pistols gave a much more serious complexion to a hostile meeting. It is true, that comparatively few shots tell, but the wounds of fire-arms are in general more dangerous than those inflicted by a rapier. Skill in fencing might be of considerable advantage to a good swordsman; but it is also a well-known fact, that a man who has science in fencing, can not only parry a thrust, but inflict a mortal wound on one less dexterous. Moreover, when what was called the first blood was drawn, however trifling the scratch, the seconds generally interposed. It may be therefore concluded, that as mankind is taught to think soberly, the danger of a duel may deter many from rashly running its chance.
In recording the many duels that took place during this reign, several of them may appear trivial, and not worthy of notice, yet, as the history of duelling, as I have already said, may be considered as the mirror of the manners and prevalent ideas of the day, these circumstances, however insignificant, are of importance, inasmuch as they show both the progress and the gradual decline of this detestable practice; they will tend also to point out those cases where the most punctilious should have been amply satisfied with an apology, and where the seconds were guilty of murder, by allowing their principals to proceed to the fatal extremity of sending life in pursuit of the phantom misnamed Honour.
BETWEEN LORD KILMAURS AND A FRENCH OFFICER,
May 1765.
Although this meeting took place at Marseilles; yet, as being one highly characteristic of the times, it may be properly considered here.
Lord Kilmaurs was the eldest son of the Earl of Glencarne, and was one of the best-natured persons imaginable; but, unfortunately, was extremely deaf. Being one evening at the playhouse, he was talking rather loudly to the person who sat next to him, as deaf people generally do. This happened to give offence to a French officer, who was in the neighbouring box, who called out to his Lordship “Paix!” (silence); which word the officer repeated two or three times without its being heard, or of course attended to. Upon which the Frenchman rose, and exclaimed, with great violence in an angry tone of voice, “Taisez-vous!” His Lordship this time heard the insolent address; and observing the supercilious air that accompanied it, replied, that as the other had no right to command silence there, he should show his utter contempt of his insolent injunction by talking still louder, which he accordingly did.
The French officer soon after left the box; and, as his Lordship’s ill star would have it, he also quitted his, and went into another, where the same officer was, but, it is reported, without the least thought of what had taken place, so much so indeed, that looking about him on entering the box, he cast his eyes on the officer without recollecting him. The indignant Frenchman ran up to him, and asked him, what he meant by staring him in the face. To which Lord Kilmaurs replied, that he had a right to look at any one. The officer indignantly replied, that he was not to be treated in such a manner with impunity. Without any further preamble he exclaimed, “Come along!” and pulled his Lordship by the arm out of the box, and in the middle of the street struck him across the shoulder with his naked sword. Upon which Lord Kilmaurs drew, and made a pass or two; and before any one arrived to part them, received the sword of his antagonist in the pit of his stomach, whence it passed through his right shoulder; on which they were parted. They were immediately surrounded by numberless spectators. At first his Lordship was hardly sensible of his wound, but in a few moments he dropped down speechless; in which situation he must inevitably have been smothered by the pressing on of the crowd, had not the Duke de Pequigny brought a guard to keep them off. Again, he ran the risk of being stifled with his own blood, had not a surgeon, passing through the crowd, cut his stock and the neck of his shirt, and applied some drops to his nostrils. He remained several hours speechless, with almost every mortal symptom. These, however, passed off, and in three days he was out of danger. The officer took post immediately into the Pope’s dominions at Avignon, while a short detail of the affair was sent to the British ambassador at Paris, who settled the affair.