University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

“I AM inexpressibly sad. Every thing goes
wrong. The bright hopes and brilliant anticipations
with which we came to this city have vanished!
Yesterday morning at sunrise, Lamar and
I were on the ground (in Jersey) before our antagonists
were anywhere to be found. As had
been agreed upon, I was to furnish the arms for
the unnatural occasion. Lamar, though not in
bravado, was desperately calm and savage; I
could see from his hurried steps, compressed lips,
and flashing eyes, that he was in no condition to
do well even the wretched business for which we
had come. I thought too, while his present humour
lasted, that there was no possibility of succeeding in
my deeply cherished hopes of a compromise. To
hint directly at a reconciliation would have been
to thwart it; I thought the only plan, therefore,
would be to urge upon him coolness and deliberation
for his own sake.

“`Lamar,' said I, `do you think yourself in good

condition and feelings to act with entire self-possession?'

“`Never in better! My eye is clear, heart
cheerful, and hand steady! I could knock a mosquito's
eye out this morning, at twenty steps.'

“What a singular thing it is, Randolph, that the
mind of a firm and courageous man, when about
to engage in a personal affair of this kind, seems
always to be narrowed down or concentrated to
the direction of the lead in its passage from the
pistol, and all his ideas seem to run upon straight
lines, and steady aims, and that even under an aspect
of levity!

“How is it, that one can throw aside all the
momentous considerations which press upon a bystander?
that the profoundest melancholy does not
overwhelm him? Why not throw the thoughts one
hour ahead and see himself—perhaps weltering in
gore—eyes half closed—tongue thick and motionless—feet
and hands cold—pulsations feeble, and
altogether in a condition which would call forth
our tenderest sympathies for a stranger found in
this condition by the way side. Perhaps if the
thoughts of combatants could be thus carried forward
for an hour, their imaginations might show
them their antagonists in this condition. No enmity
could be so bitter, that they would not feel
sympathy for one thus situated. And herein lies
the strangeness and inconsistency of the duellist.
An antagonist once wounded, and we are all sympathy
for those very sufferings which we ourselves

have inflicted; none was extended while it would
have availed any thing, but no sooner is it unavailable,
than it is showered upon the dying adversary!
What wretched mockery is this? To
thrust one over a precipice only to pick him up
and lament over him! To fire a house, and then
seek to extinguish it with tears! To put out a
man's eyes, and then ask him to look upon you with
forgiveness! To shoot a neighbour through the
heart, and then kneel and pray for his pardon before
he dies!

“How much like the child with his toy is all
this, when he, in the folly of the moment, destroys
some invaluable relic, which millions could not
restore. So it is with us `children of a larger
growth,' when we go out upon the field to sport
with human life, as if it was a thing to be restored
when once destroyed.

“The truth is this, and the position will be sustained
by the facts which I am going to relate: no
man who goes on such an errand, realizes in his
own mind what it is he is about to do or to suffer.
Let such a one vividly realize to his own mind his
antagonist, stretched out on a litter, just ready to
be borne from the field, a ball having passed across
the bridge of the nose and knocked out both eyes,
and horribly deformed his face, without producing
death! Would he not call upon the rocks and
mountains to crush him for a monster, before he
would touch a hair-trigger? But I am, as is usual

with letter writers and reviewers, giving you the
reflections before the facts.

“We soon discovered the other party approaching
the spot. When they were within about fifty
yards of us they halted and held a council, as we
did likewise, to arrange all the awful particulars.
I could see their earnest gestures, as they stood,
partly hid by the bushes, dripping with morning
dew. The time having nearly arrived, one of
their number separated from the rest and approached
us.

“This movement roused me from a very disagreeable
revery, into which I had thoughtlessly or
thoughtfully glided, while Lamar stood talking to
the surgeon and Damon (who, by-the-by, has just
returned from Albany). I suppose that the cause
of my so far forgetting myself as to indulge in this
habitual mood, was the latter personage calling my
mind vividly to the consequences of our present
undertaking, by some of his plain, downright mode
of speaking to the surgeon. However, I immediately
recollected my individual responsibility, and
hastened to meet the plenipotentiary of the other
party, who, I found, was young Hazlehurst. He
looked pale and haggard, as if he had been endeavouring
to keep away the intruding imps of the
night by the more genial spirits of the bottle; he
was any thing but calm, though he assumed to
be so.

“The idea of a compromise still forced itself

upon me; I therefore urged it upon him by all the
considerations in my power. I told him that I had
often observed the skill of both; that they were
both `dead shots,' and undoubtedly what the world
is wont to call men of courage. Making but little
impression, I determined to assail him upon a more
tender point, namely, the delicate subject of his
sister's concern in this matter. I begged him to
recollect that it would give her an unenviable notoriety,
if one of these young men should be killed.
I seemed here to touch his home feelings, if not
his judgment and his principles, and he returned to
advocate a reconciliation, while I pursued the same
course with Lamar.

“It was all to no purpose; for when we met
again upon middle ground, it appeared that each
of the principals had singularly enough construed
our overtures into a demand of apology from the
opposite party. Each now urged that the time had
arrived. The ground had already been measured
off (twenty paces). Our next business was to cast
lots for choice of position and `the word.' Hazlehurst
won the privilege, if it could be so called, of
giving the word `fire,' and the choice of position
fell to me.

“As seconds, we proceeded to load the pistols;
not, however, before I had spent my logic in vain
upon the parties. The task being finished, they
took their positions, appearing calm and composed
to the hasty eye, although a fierce commotion of
subdued elements was going on within. They

looked, however, as report generally says, `calm
and steady.'

“Hazlehurst took his position, and all things
being in readiness, his hoarse and evidently excited
voice began in slow, measured, and distinct
articulation, `Ready! aim! fire! One! two!
three!'

“Both pistols were discharged almost at the
same instant, and for a moment I could not see
through the smoke what injury had been done and
received. In another moment Lamar and Arthur
were visible, unhurt, and both singularly staring at
Hazlehurst and me. For my life I could not, at
first, see into this,—the first impression was that
they had both been shot, and were still able to
stand, yet unable to move. In this belief I hastened
to Lamar, who said, as I came up,

“`And were they really and truly charged?'

“`Upon honour they were,' said I, `and exactly
in the same manner in which you and Arthur have
been practising; for I showed Hazlehurst the
charge when he took his away some days ago, and
I saw him to-day, when we picked up the pistols
indiscriminately, load his exactly as I had previously
shown him.'

“`There must have been some magic in this
business,' said Lamar; `I never carried a steadier
hand up and down a line in my life.'

“By this time each party had again withdrawn
to themselves, when I asked Lamar my instructions,

as I saw young Hazlehurst again coming to
meet me, as might have been expected. `Another
fire, of course,' said Lamar. Hazlehurst's instructions
were the same; accordingly, we again went
through the same preliminaries, and something in
addition,—for Lamar proposed, and Arthur agreed
to it, through us, that they should both see the pistols
loaded.

Accordingly we again collected, like a sociable
little coterie, and proceeded to load. Just as I had
done my part, Lamar found some fault with the
manner in which I placed the percussion cap, and
hastily seized the pistol, somewhat contrary to the
usages in such cases; as no one objected, however,
I surrendered it to him. In letting down the cock
to a half-cock, it slipped through his fingers and
exploded, bursting the barrel and wounding him
dreadfully in the hand and the side of the head just
above the right ear, by which he was prostrated in
an instant, covered with blood and powder. We
all thought him dead, as soon as we saw him fall.
Arthur, in particular, knelt down beside him, and
called upon him by all the endearing titles of old
school-fellowship. The surgeon used such means
as were at hand, and soon succeeded in restoring
animation. As soon as he became sensible, Arthur
took his hand and held it between his own during
the whole time we were getting a rude litter ready
to bear him to the carriage, and they were completely
reconciled. We bore him to the carriage

and thence by slow marches to the ferry on the
Hudson, from which place we safely removed him
into the room in which I write.

“He seems now to be doing well; though his
hand is dreadfully torn, and a deep and large scar
will be left on the side of his head as long as he
lives. We agreed, before we left the ground, to
keep the whole business secret, except so much as
related to the bursting of a pistol in Lamar's hand.

“Damon would have been quite amusing, as
usual, if the occasion had not been unsuited to merriment;
however, after Lamar was safely placed
in bed, as Arthur insisted on staying with him, I
agreed to accompany Damon to the theatre, as it
was to be his last night in the city.

“Accordingly, after tea, he called for me, and we
walked over to the old Park Theatre, taking box
seats on this occasion. You must know, by-the-by,
that I do not find the pit in these theatres the
resort of the literati, and critics, and authors. This,
I suppose, is owing somewhat to the character of
our people, the nature of our institutions, and the
low price of admittance.

“As we entered, the pit were calling loudly upon
the orchestra for our national air, if it may be so
called, of Hail Columbia. The band, most of whom
were foreigners, were engaged upon some piece of
music more to their own tastes, I suppose; for the
yelling and stamping became excessive before they
yielded to the voice of the mob, which they were
at length compelled to do. It was a benefit night,

and the house was full; many persons standing up
in the rear of the boxes. Damon and I were
lucky enough to procure seats; which we had
scarcely taken, when a little billet was dropped
into my hat, which I held between my knees. I
picked it up hastily, supposing it belonged to some
gentleman behind me; but was astonished to see it
directed to me. I tore it open, and read these
words:—

“`You know now who the widow is. Beware
of her, beware!'

“`(Signed) Neither a Friend nor an Enemy.'

“I had almost forgotten a similar communication
received before. I looked round to see who
could have dropped it there. Every countenance
was gentlemanly and calm, forbidding at a glance
all suspicion. I crushed it into my pocket, and
endeavoured to forget it in seeing Damon so
amusingly amused.

“After Hail Columbia had been played to their
hearts' content, the mob became calm, and the curtain
rose. The play, fortunately, was a home-production;
and, as good luck would have it, a Kentuckian
was the principal character.

“It was a prize-comedy, the hero of which,
Colonel Nimrod Wildfire, of Kentucky, quite captivated
Damon's heart. He entered into the spirit
of the plot with great interest; and, as men unpractised
in the ways of the refined world generally

do, he realized it so vividly as at times to forget
that it was not a real scene. When the colonel
was rounding off his periods in favour of old Kentuck,
Damon would slap down his hand upon his
knee and exclaim, `Hurrah for old Kentuck!'

“`This,' said he to me, `is worth a million of
your Italian fiddle-faddles. There, at the opera, a
man, if he should happen to go to sleep, would be
sure to dream that he had fallen foul of a strange
hen-roost, or was riding to the devil in a rail-road
car of live-stock. But here, a man could a'most
dream he was in old Kentuck, with his eyes open.'

“`Then you like your countryman the colonel?'

“`You may say that, neighbour; but between
you and me and that pillar there, though he's a
plagued clever fellow, yet' (lowering his voice to a
whisper) `he spins rather longer yarns than I'm a
thinkin he does at home.'

“`The sin of a traveller,' said I.

“`Right again, neighbour; and I, for one, don't
blame him for it. Double and twist me! if I don't
feel myself very much moved, now and then, to spin
a yarn or two about old Kentuck, when I see these
etarnal mountebank-dandies, knowing so little
about sich a fine country, and sich whole-souled
fellows.'

“`But, Damon,' said I, when the curtain fell upon
the first act; `I have always thought that your
boasting-men never act?'

“`I don't understand you,' said he.

“`I mean that bullying, swaggering fellows never
fight; or, in other words, `barking dogs seldom
bite.”

“`Oh, ho! I understand you now! you suppose
because my countryman there on the stage spins
a pretty good yarn, and tells a good story of himself,
and what he can do, that he won't fight. But
there, neighbour, I rather suppose that you might
be mistaken a little; for it depends upon the company
a man keeps what sort of yarns he spins.
Now if the colonel there and I should happen to
fall out about any trifle, he knowing that I was
from old Kentuck and I knowing as much of him,
why there would only be a word and a blow between
us, all in good nature; but that Mrs. Trollope
that he is feedin on soft corn don't know nothing;
Kentuck'l give her a lesson.'

“The first piece being concluded, the afterpiece
now came on, `Paul Pry.' Damon relapsed into a
brown study for some minutes, until he caught a
glimpse of Paul's peculiarities,—which were suddenly
interrupted by his usual slap on the knee,
like the fall of a sledge-hammer. `That fellow,'
exclaimed he, `must be a real Yankee! yes, he's a
Yankee, I see it! I see it! them's the sort o' chaps
they have in Yankee town; no such chaps in old
Kentuck, except among the old wives.'

“`How is that, Damon; I thought that every
neighbourhood had a Paul Pry?'

“`That may be, hereabouts; but you see we

have a cure for such complaints as that chap seems
to be troubled with.'

“`And what may that be, Damon?'

“`A knock down and drag out.'

“`That, to be sure, is a very summary remedy;
but are you sure it would cure it?'

“`As sure as that I'm settin here; just let that
chap or the likes of him travel into old Kentuck,
and run his nose into other people's business after
that fashion, and I'll agree to be hornswoggled if
he don't be apt to catch it in his bread-basket.
Jist suppose, now, that Mr. Pry was to git a
sneezer between his two lookin eyes when he's
runnin his nose about after that fashion! he
wouldn't intrude again soon in the same premises.
Paul wouldn't be apt to intrude at a regular hand-round
in old Kentuck. But what makes you
laugh?'

“`I was laughing at your new doctrine of social
order.'

“`Lord, sir, I havn't told you half the good that
comes of regulating the people by the five rules.'

“`Five rules! what are they?'

“`These marrowbones!' (holding up his clenched
fist.)

“`Well, let's have it; what other good do they
do, besides what you have already stated?'

“`They make people polite to one another, and
keep them from calling names.'

“`Calling names!' said I.

“`Yes, calling names; no longer than to-day, I

was coming down this very street the theatre
stands on, at a place they call `the square,' and I
heard two fellers talking as if their dander was
up a little; so I walked up and leaned against a
lamp-post close by, to listen and see if any fun
was going to come of it; presently one of 'em
called the other a liar. Now, thinks I, we'll see
some sport; so I rolled up my sleeves, and held
my arms both stretched out to keep back the
crowd. `Don't press on 'em, gentlemen,' said I;
`fair play, fair play!' and what do you think it all
came to?'

“`Nothing, I suppose.'

“`Right; instead of knocking the fellow on his
sconce, he stood quietly with his hands in his pockets,
and says, `Oh hush! Do tell now!' I stared
at them to see if they had tails and walked on all-fours,
and the crowd stared at me like fools, as if
there wasn't two fellers there to be stared at sure
enough, without putting old Kentuck out of countenance.'

“`But you did not interfere any further?'

“`Only to ask the man who stood next to me if
he had seen a man call another a liar before, without
being knocked down. `I never saw anybody
knocked down in my life,' said he, `except by the
watchman.' `I'm hornswoggled,' said I, `If I an't
glad I'm goin away to-morrow, for I should be
spiled here in a short time;' and then they all set
up a horselaugh at me, instead of laughing at the
two cowards who stood by.'

“`Well,' continued I, `are there any other advantages
of the knocking-down system?'

“`O, yes,' said he, `hundreds; it makes the blood
circulate, like runnin in the mountains keeps up
the blood of the bucks.'

“`But here,' said I, `there is no necessity for
such a stimulus; because the difficulties of getting
meat and bread where there is such a crowd, are
sufficient to make the blood circulate.'

“`Ah, that's true,' said Damon, rather sadly; `it
may suit some stomachs to live in this crowd; but
curse me if it don't make my breath short jist to
think of it; and that ain't the worst of it: I am
told that there is as hard scufflin among the dead
here for a little elbow-room, as among the living.'

“`Yes, you have been rightly informed. The
living begin to push the dead out of their quiet
resting-places; insomuch, that a man who died
here forty years ago, and paid two hundred dollars
for the ground to be buried in (if he is cognoscent
of such things in another state), finds his bones
scattered with those of the dogs and horses of his
generation.'

“`Oh, I'm off,' said Damon, `this would never
do for me. I don't like to be crowded,—living or
dead; Lord! when I get into one of our long open
forest ranges again, I rather expect that I shall
snort like a wild beast, when he first snuffs a
stranger.'

“`You see no advantages, then,' said I, `to

compensate for these various inconveniences of a
crowded city?'

“`None; do you?'

“`Some; for instance, the society of a large
city, and the amusements; as the theatre.'

“`The theatre!' exclaimed he, in surprise;
`would you put this clamjamfry against a deer
drive, or a fox-chase, or a 'coon hunt? Why, I
wish I may be perlequed through a saw-mill, if I
would'nt rather go to a country-wedding, any day,
than come to this place. Why, here it's all make-believe;
it's all sham; but out in old Kentuck we
have the real things which you pretend here; like
we do scarecrows to a corn-field.'

“Much of this dialogue passed between the acts
and scenes; though when Damon becomes interested,
he pursues his discourse independently of
performers and audience too. After the conclusion
of the performance, I walked with him to his
lodgings, and took leave of him with real regret;
whether we shall ever meet with him again,
Heaven only knows; I, for one, will be glad to
see him at any time, and in any company; I have
learned to estimate our rude western yeomanry
more justly since I have become intimate with
Damon; the acquaintance was doubtless commenced
in the waywardness of our old college
mischief, but it has ended in our all respecting
Damon for his good qualities, and looking upon his
foibles rather as sources of amusement than as
unpardonable faults. There are, doubtless, as

many accomplished gentlemen in the state of
Kentucky, as in any other in the Union, but it is
equally certain that wilder regions of the state
produce many such characters as our friend. I
have seen many polished gentlemen of our sister
state; and with the exception of those who come
from the large towns of Lexington, Louisville, &c.,
there is about them a wild romantic turn, analogous
to their native scenes, which renders them,
in our older settlements, unique, but by no means
disgusting or disagreeable. This tinge is particularly
observable when contrasted with the
blunted and worn-out societies of our large northern
and eastern cities.

“Lamar we found doing extremely well as to
his wounds, and sleeping soundly. If he continues
thus, I shall soon put an end to this cruel suspense,
which tears my tranquillity to pieces, and strikes
at the root of every enjoyment;—you understand
me.

“Present me most affectionately to my mother
and cousin; I read your letters with great interest,
I assure you; you cannot be too minute; all, all
will be interesting to yours, most sincerely,