“My dear Grattan,” I replied, “you cannot be serious:—there is no ground for a challenge on your part: if he survives your words, no bullet could have effect upon him.”
“Ah, that won’t do, Barrington!” exclaimed Grattan: “he objected to my voting for you, because, he said, I was a ‘discarded corporator.’”
“That was not intended as personal,” said I; “and even had he gained his point, would it not be an honour for you to be removed from such a corporation?”
“Barrington,” rejoined he, “it’s of no use!—I must have a shot at the man: I can’t sleep unless you go to him for me.”
This I peremptorily refused; arguing and reasoning with him again and again: he still continuing obstinate, I begged him to go and ask the advice of Mr. George Ponsonby.
“Oh no,” replied he, “Ponsonby is a wise man;—wiser than either of us: in fact, he is sometimes too wise and too peaceable. You must go to Giffard:—perhaps it may not be wise, but I know you prefer your friend’s honour to his safety.—Come, now, get your hat, Barrington!”
Upward of an hour elapsed before I could even half convince him that he was wrong; but at length I hit on the only argument that could make any impression on him, and extracted a promise that he would let the affair drop:—“Grattan,” said I, “recollect matters, and have consideration for me.” He started:—“Yes,” continued I, “you know it was solely on my account that you exposed yourself to any insult; and do you think I could remain an idle spectator, in a conflict whereof I was the cause?—If you do not promise me that you will go ‘no further in this business,’ I shall instantly make the thing personal with Giffard myself.”
For a moment he was silent, then smiling—“Coriolanus,” said he, “replied to his parent—‘Mother! you have conquered!’—I will go no further.”
“I humbly thank you,” said I, “for making an old woman of me!”—He then went away, as I conceived, tolerably satisfied.—He had come thus privately (for the curtains were drawn round his chair) to avoid suspicion being excited of his intentions, and the authorities consequently interfering to prevent the combat. My surprise may be imagined, when, at six o’clock the next morning, I was roused by the same announcement of a gentleman in a chair! I knew it must be Grattan, and directed him to be brought in.
I had now the same game to play over again. He said he had not slept a wink all night, from thinking about “that Giffard;” and that he “must have a shot at him.” Another course now suggested itself to me, and I told him I had, on consideration, determined, whether right or wrong, that, if he persevered, I would wait upon the sheriff and get him bound over to keep the peace. He was not pleased at this, but had no option: he strode about the room, taking long steps and frequently raising himself up, as was his custom whenever agitated.—I was peremptory; and ultimately he agreed not to revive the subject during the election.