“An admission of one’s own cowardice is, truly, no alluring alternative. But let us understand each other: what sort of cowardice do you mean?”
“I know of but one.”
“Indeed! Cowardice, speaking generally, is fear: what fear does a man betray who declines to accept a challenge?”
“The fear—eh—that is—the fear of being shot.”
“Death, young gentleman, to one who believes in a future state of reward and punishment, is a solemn event; and I apprehend that a brave man, or a good man (to say nothing of a bad man) may fear to meet it without suffering the imputation of cowardice: so that, thus far, your position is none of the strongest. Does this cowardice comprehend nothing else than the fear of death?”
“Nothing else.”
“Then we have all the argument on that side of the question. Let us look a moment at the other. What induces a man to accept a challenge?”
“The fear of dishonor.”
“Ay? then fear operates on both horns of the dilemma: and, for my own part, if I were forced to act under the dictation of fear, I would choose that course which promised the least disastrous result. But here, again, we do not perhaps understand each other. What kind of dishonor is this?”
“Disgrace, in an intolerable form! A man thus degraded would be driven from society, branded with the stigma of cowardice, and blasted with the scorn of all honorable men.”