HOFFLAND MAKES HIS WILL.
When they had reached the open street, and the crowd of curious
students were no longer visible, Hoffland, growing gradually calmer,
and with faint smiles, related to his companion what had just
occurred; that is to say, in general terms--rather in substance, it
must be confessed, than in detail. Mr. Denis and himself, he said, had
at first commenced conversing in a very friendly manner, the
conversation had then grown animated, and Mr. Denis had become
somewhat excited; then, at the conclusion of one of his (Hoffland's)
observations, he had declared himself deeply offended, and farther,
announced his intention of dispatching a mortal defiance to him on the
ensuing morning.
Mowbray in vain endeavored to arrive at the particulars of the affair.
Hoffland obstinately evaded detailing the cause of the quarrel.
"Well, Charles," said Mowbray, "you are certainly unlucky--to quarrel
so quickly at college; but----"
"Was it my fault?" replied the boy, in a reproachful tone.
"I don't know; your relation is so general, you descend so little to
particulars, that I have not been able to form an opinion of the
amount of blame which attaches to each."
"Blame!" said Hoffland. "Oh, Ernest! you are not a true friend."
"Why, Charles?"
"You do not espouse my part."
Mowbray uttered a sigh of dissatisfaction.
"Do you know," he said, "that my place is rather yonder, as the friend
and adviser of Denis?"
"Well, sir," said Hoffland, in a hurt tone, "as you please."
Mowbray said calmly:
"No, I will not embrace your advice; I will not leave you, a mere
youth, alone, to go and range myself on the side of Denis, though we
have been intimate friends for years. He has numbers of acquaintances
and friends; you could count yours upon the fingers of one hand."
"On the little finger of one hand, say," Hoffland replied, regaining
his good humor.
"Well," Mowbray said calmly, "then there is all the more reason for my
espousing your cause--since you hint that I am the little finger."
"No, I will promote you," Hoffland answered, smiling; "you shall have
this finger, one rank above the little finger, you see."
And he held up his left hand, touching the third finger.
Then the boy turned away and laughed as merrily and carelessly as
before the disagreeable events of the evening.
Mowbray looked at him with a faint smile.
"Youth, youth!" he murmured; "youth, so full of joy and lightness--so
careless and gay-hearted! Here is a man--or a child--who in
twenty-four hours may be lying cold in death yonder, and he smiles and
even laughs. Hoffland," he added, "let us cease our discussions in
relation to the origin of this unhappy affair, and endeavor to decide
upon the course to be pursued. With myself the matter stands thus: I
have known Denis for years; he is one of my best friends; no one loves
me more, I think----"
"Except one," said Hoffland, laughing.
"My dear Charles," said Mowbray seriously, "let us speak gravely.
This affair is serious, since it involves two lives--especially
serious to me, since it involves the life of a friend of many years'
standing, and no less the life of one I have promised to assist,
advise, and guide--yourself."
"Oh," said Hoffland, with a hurt expression, "you call Mr. Denis your
friend, while I--I am only 'one you have promised to advise.' Ernest,
that is cruel; you have not learned yet how sensitive I am!"
And Hoffland turned away.
"Really, I am dealing with a child," murmured Mowbray; "let me summon
all my patience."
And he said aloud:
"My dear Hoffland, I am not one of those men who make violent
protestations and feel sudden and excessive friendships. Friendship,
with me, is a tree of slow growth; and I even now wonder at the
position you have been able to take in my regard, upon such a slight
acquaintance. There is a frank word--all words between friends should
be frank. There, I call you my friend--you are such: does that please
you?"
"Oh, very much," said Hoffland, smiling and banishing his sad
expression instantly; "I know you are the noblest and most sincere of
men."
And the boy held out to his companion a small hand, which returned the
pressure of Mowbray's slightly, and was then quietly withdrawn.
"Well, now," said Mowbray, "let us come back to this affair. Denis
will send you a challenge?"
"He says so."
"Well; then he will keep his promise."
"Or course he will act as a man of honor throughout," said Hoffland,
laughing; "I am sure of that, because he is your friend."
"Pray drop these polite speeches, and let us talk plainly."
"Very well, Ernest; but Denis is a good fellow, eh?" asked Hoffland,
smiling.
"Yes."
"Brave?"
"Wholly fearless."
"A good swordsman!"
"Very."
"And with the pistol?" asked Hoffland, laughing.
"The best shot in college," returned Mowbray, pleased in spite of
himself at finding his companion so calm and smiling.
Hoffland placed his thumb absently upon his chin--leaned upon it, and
after a moment's reflection said in a business tone:
"I think I'll choose swords."
"You fence?"
"I? Why, my dear Ernest, have you never seen me with a foil in my
hand?"
"Never."
"Indeed? Well, I fence like the admirable Crichton himself. It was
some allusion to that celebrated gentleman, in connection with myself,
by the by, which excited Mr. Denis's anger."
"How, pray?"
"Well, well, it would embarrass me to explain. Let us dismiss Mr.
Crichton. My mind is made up--I choose short-swords, for I was always
afraid of pistols."
Mowbray looked with curiosity at his companion.
"Afraid?" he said.
"Yes, indeed," replied Hoffland; "you will not believe me, but I never
could fire a pistol or a gun without shutting my eyes, and dropping it
when it went off!"
With which words Hoffland burst into laughter.
Mowbray saw that it would be necessary to check the mercurial humor of
his companion. He therefore suppressed the smile which rose
unconsciously to his lips when Hoffland laughed so merrily, and said
gravely:
"Charles, are you prepared for a mortal duel?"
"Perfectly," said Hoffland, with great simplicity.
"Have you made your will?"
"My will! Fie, Mr. Lawyer! Why, I am a minor."
"Minors make wills," said Mowbray; "and I advise you, if you are
determined to encounter Mr. Denis, to make your will, and put in
writing whatever you wish done."
"But what have I to leave to any one?" said Hoffland, affecting
annoyance. "Ah, yes!" he added, "I am richer than I supposed. Well,
now, this terrible affair may take place before I can make my
arrangements; so I will, with your permission, make a nuncupative
will--I believe _nuncupative_ is the word, but I am not sure."
Mowbray sighed; he found himself powerless before this incorrigible
light-heartedness, and had not the resolution to check it. He began to
reflect wistfully upon the future: he already saw that boyish face
pale and bloody, but still smiling--that slender figure stretched upon
the earth--a mere boy, dead before his prime.
Hoffland went on, no longer laughing, but uttering sighs, and
affecting sudden and profound emotion.
"This is a serious thing, Ernest," he said; "when a man thinks of his
will, he stops laughing. I beg therefore that you will not laugh, nor
interrupt me, while I dispose of the trifling property of which I am
possessed."
Mowbray sighed.
Hoffland echoed this sigh, and went on:
"First: As I have no family, and may confine my bequests wholly to my
present dear companions, acquaintances, and friends--first, I leave my
various suits of apparel, which may be found at my lodgings, to my
dear companions aforesaid; begging that they may be distributed after
the following fashion. To the student who is observed to shed the most
tears when he receives the intelligence of my unhappy decease, I give
my suit of silver velvet, with chased gold buttons, and silk
embroidery. The cocked hat and feather, rosetted shoes with diamond
buckles, and the flowered satin waistcoat, go with this. Also six
laced pocket-handkerchiefs, which I request my dear tender-hearted
friend to use on all occasions when he thinks of me, to dry his eyes
with.
"_Item:_ My fine unit of Mecklenburg silk, with silver buttons, I give
to the friend who expresses in words the most poignant regret. I hold
that tears are more genuine than words, for which reason the best
weeper has been preferred, and so has received the velvet suit.
Nevertheless, the loudest lamenter is not unworthy; and so I repeat
that he shall have the silk suit. If there be none who weep or lament
me, I direct that these two suits shall be given to the janitor of the
college, the old negro Fairfax, whose duty ever thereafter shall be to
praise and lament me.
"Second: I give my twelve other suits of various descriptions, more or
less rich, to the members of the 'Anti-Stamp-Act League,' of which I
am a member. This with my love; and I request that, whenever they
speak of me, they may say, 'Hoffland, our lamented, deceased brother,
was a man of expanded political ideas, and a true friend of liberty.'
"Third: I give all my swords, pistols, guns, carbines, short swords,
broad swords, poniards, and spurs, to my friend Mr. Denis, who has had
the misfortune to kill me. It is my request that he will not lament
me, or feel any pangs of conscience. So far from dying with the
thought that he has been unjust to me, I declare that his conduct has
been worthy of the Chevalier Bayard; and I desire that the above
implements of war may be used to exterminate even the whole world,
should they give him like cause of quarrel.
"Fourth: I give my books to those I am most intimately acquainted
with:--my Elzevir Horace to T. Randolph--he will find translations of
the best odes upon the fly leaves, much better than any he could make;
my Greek books, the Iliad, Graeca Minora, Herodotus, etc., which are
almost entirely free from dog-ears and thumb-marks, as I have never
opened them, I give to L. Burwell, requesting that he will thenceforth
apply himself to Greek in earnest. My Hebrew books I give to Fairfax,
the janitor, as he is the only one in the college who will not pretend
to understand them; thus, much deception will be warded off and
prevented.
"Fifth: I give and bequeath to the gentleman who passed us this
afternoon on horseback, and who is plainly deep in love with some
one--I believe he is known as Mr. Jacques--I bequeath to him my large
volume of love-songs in manuscript, begging him to read them for his
interest and instruction, and never, under any circumstances, to copy
them upon embossed paper and send them to his lady-love, pretending
that they are original, as I have known many forlorn lovers to do
before this.
"Sixth: I bequeath to Miss Lucy Mowbray, the sister of my beloved
friend, my manuscript 'Essay upon the Art of Squeezing a Lady's Hand;'
begging that she will read it attentively, and never suffer her hand
to be squeezed in any other manner than that which I have therein
pointed out.
"Seventh: I bequeath my 'Essay upon the Hebrew Letter Aleph' to the
College of William and Mary, requesting that it shall be disposed of
to some scientific body in Europe, for not less than twenty thousand
pounds--that sum to be dedicated to the founding of a new
professorship--to be called the _Hoffland Professorship_ for the
instruction of young men going to woo their sweethearts. And the
professor shall in all cases be a woman.
"Eighth: Having disposed of my personal, I now come to add a
disposition also of my invisible and more valuable property remaining.
I bequeath my memory to the three young ladies to whom I am at present
engaged--begging them to deal charitably with what I leave to them;
and if harsh thoughts ever rise in their hearts, to remember how
beautiful they are, and how utterly impossible it was for their poor
friend to resist yielding to that triple surpassing loveliness. If
this message is distinctly communicated to them, they will not be
angry, but ever after revere and love my memory, as that of the truest
and most rational of men.
"Ninth: I leave to my executor a lock of my hair, which he shall carry
ever after in his bosom--take thence and kiss at least once every
day--at the same time murmuring, 'Poor Charles! he loved me very
much!'
"Tenth, and last: I bequeath my heart to Mr. Ernest Mowbray. I mean
the spiritual portion--my love. And if I should make him my executor,
I hereby declare that clause ninth shall apply to him, and be carried
out in full; declaring that he may utter the words therein written
with a good conscience; and declaring further, that my poverty alone
induces me to make him so trifling a bequest as this, in the tenth
clause expressed. Moreover, he had full possession of it formerly
during my life-time; and, finally, I make him my executor.
"That is all," said Hoffland, laughing and turning away his head; "a
capital will, I think!"
Mowbray shook his head.
"I have listened to your jesting in silence, Charles," he said,
"because I thought it best to let your merry mood expend itself----"
"I was never graver in my life!"
"Then you were never grave at all. Now let us seriously consult about
this unhappy affair. Ah, duelling, duelling! how wicked, childish,
illogical, despotic, bloody, and at the same time ludicrous it is!
Come, you have lost your key, you say--we cannot go to your lodgings:
let us find a room in the 'Raleigh,' and arrange this most unhappy
affair. Come."
And, followed by Hoffland, Mowbray took his way sadly toward the
"Raleigh."