Which may be thus translated--

When first in public I began

To read my boyish rhymes,

I scarcely could be call'd a man,

And had not shav'd three times.

Caesar says of the Britons, B. G. V. 14--omni parte corporis rasa, praeter

caput et labrum superius--they shave entirely, excepting the head and

upper lip.

Half-shaving was accounted, in the days of Samuel, I suppose, as reducing

the party to a state of semi-_barbarism_: thus, in Samuel II. x.

4--"Wherefore Hanan took David's servants, and shaved off the one half of

their beards."

To be denied the privilege of shaving was accounted dishonorable, among

the Catti, a German nation, in the days of Tacitus; for he says, De

Moribus Germanae, 31--Apud Cattos in consensum vertit, ut primum

adoleverint, crinem barbamque submittere, nec, nisi hoste caeso--It was

settled among the Catti, that no young man should cut his hair, or shave

his beard, till he had killed his man.

Seneca, Cons. Polyb. xxxvi. 5, blames Caius, for refusing to shave,

because he had lost his sister--Idem ille Caius furiosa in constantia,

modo barbam capillumque submittens--There is that Caius, clinging so

absurdly to his sorrow, and suffering his hair and beard to grow on

account of it.

There is an admirable letter, from Seneca to Lucillus, Ep. 114, which

shows, that the dandies, in old Rome, were much like our own. He is

speaking of those--qui vellunt barbam, aut intervellunt; qui labra

pressius tondent et abradunt, servata et submissa caetera parte--who pull

out the beard, by the roots, or particular parts of it--who clip and shave

the hair, either more closely, or leave it growing, on some parts of their

lips.

Juvenal, ii. 99, and Martial, vi. 64, 4, laugh at such, as use a mirror

while shaving. Knives and razors of _brass_, are of great antiquity,

according to the Archaeological AEliana, p. 39.--Fosbroke, p. 351, says,

that razors are mentioned by Homer. But I am going to a funeral, this

afternoon, as an amateur, and it is time for me to shave--not with a razor

of brass, however--Pradier is too light for me--I use the Chinese.

Hutchinson, i. 153, says, that Leverett was the first Governor of

Massachusetts, who is painted without a beard, and that he laid it aside,

in Cromwell's court.

China is the paradise of barbers. There, according to Mr. Davis, they

abound. No man shaves himself, the part, to be shorn, being out of his

reach. There would be no difficulty in removing the scanty hair upon their

chins; but the exact tonsure of the crown, without removing one hair from

the Chinaman's long tail, that reaches to his heels, is a delicate affair.

Their razors are very heavy, but superlatively keen.

No. CXLI.

Barbers were chiefly peripatetics, when I was a boy. They ran about town,

and shaved at their customers' houses. There were fewer shops. This was

the genteel mode in Rome. The wealthy had their domestic barbers, as the

planters have now, among their slaves. I am really surprised, that we hear

of so few throats cut at the South. Some evidence of this custom--not of

cutting throats--may be found, in one of the neatest epitaphs, that ever

was written; the subject of which, a very young and accomplished

slave-barber, has already taken a nap of eighteen hundred years. I refer

to Martial's _epitaphium_, on Pantagathus, a word, which, by the way,

signifies one, who is good at everything, or, as we say--a man of all

works. It is the fifty-second, of Book VI. Its title is _Epitaphium

Pantagathi, Tonsoris_:

Hoc jacet in tumulo raptus puerilibus annis

Pantagathus, domini cura, dolorque sui,

Vix tangente vagos ferro resecare capillos

Doctus, et hirsutas excoluisse genas.

Sic, licet, ut debes, Tellus placata, levisque;

Artificis levior non potes esse manu.

In attempting a version of this, I feel, as if I were about to disfigure a

pretty spinster, with a mob-cap.

Here lies Pantagathus, the slave,

Petted he liv'd, and died lamented;

No youth, like him could clip and shave,

Since shears and razors were invented.

So light his touch, you could not feel

The razor, while your cheeks were smoothing;

And sat, unconscious of the steel,

The operation was so soothing.

Oh, mother Earth, appeas'd, since thou

Back to thy grasping arms hast won him,

Soft be thy hand, like his, and now

Lie thou, in mercy, lightly on him.

Rochester was right; few things were ever benefited, by translation, but a

bishop.

The _Tonstrinae_, or barbers' shops, in Rome, were seldom visited by any,

but the humbler classes. They were sometimes called the _Shades_. Horace,

Ep. i. 7, 50, describes Philippus, an eminent lawyer, as struck with

sudden envy, upon seeing Vulteius Mena, the beadle, sitting very much at

ease, in one of these shades, after having been shaved, and leisurely

cleaning his own nails, an office commonly performed by the barbers:--

Adrasum quendam vacua tonsoris in umbra,

Cultello proprios purgantem leniter ungues.

There were she-barbers, in Rome, residing in the _Saburra_ and

_Argiletum_, very much such localities, as "_the Hill_," formerly in

Boston, or _Anthony Street_, in New York. Martial describes one of these

_tonstrices_, ii. 17--

Tonstrix Saburrae fancibus sedet primis, etc.

Some there were, of a better order. Plautus, Terence, and Theophrastus

have many allusions to the barbers' shops. They have ever been the same

"_otiosorum conciliabula_," that they were, when Terence wrote--resorts of

the idle and garrulous. In old times--very--not now, of course--not now, a

dressmaker, who was mistress of her business, knew that she was expected

to turn out so much work, and so much _slander_. That day has fortunately

gone by. But the "barber's tale" is the very thing that it was, in the

days of Oliver Goldsmith, and it was then the very thing, that it was, as

I verily believe, in the days of Ezekiel. There are many, who think, that

a good story, not less than a good lather, is half the shave.

It is quite _in rerum natura_, that much time should be consumed, in

waiting, at the _tonstrinae_--the barbers' shops; and to make it pass

agreeably, the craft have always been remarkable, for the employment of

sundry appliances--amusing pictures around the walls--images and

mechanical contrivances--the daily journals--poodles, monkeys, squirrels,

canaries, and parrots. In the older countries, a barber's boy was greatly

in request, who could play upon the _citterne_, or some other musical

instrument.

If there had not been a curious assemblage of _materiel_, in an old Roman

_tonstrina_, it would not have been selected as an object for the pencil.

That it was so selected, however, appears from a passage in Pliny, XXXV.

37. He is writing of Pureicus--arte paucis postferendus: proposito, nescio

an destruxerit se: quoniam humilia quidem sequutus, humilitatis tamen

summam adeptus est gloriam. Tonstrinas, sutrinasque pinxit, et asellos, et

obsonia, ac similia--He had few superiors in his art: I know not if the

plan he adopted was fatal to his fame; for, though his subjects were

humble, yet, in their representation, he attained the highest excellence.

He painted barbers' and shoemakers' shops, asses, eatables, and the like.

A rude sketch of Heemskerck's picture of a barber's shop lies now upon my

table. Here is the poodle, with a cape and fool's cap, walking on his hind

legs--the suspended bleeding basin, and other et caetera of the profession.

Little is generally known, as to the origin and import of the barber's

pole. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, surgery was in such low

repute, that farriers, barbers, sow-spayers, and surgeons were much upon a

level. The truth of this, in respect to surgeons and barbers, has been

established by law: and, for about two hundred years, both in London and

Paris, they were incorporated, as one company. I remember a case, reported

by Espinasse--not having the book at hand, I cannot indicate the volume

and page--which shows the judicial estimate of surgery then, compared with

the practice of physic. A physician's fees, in England, were accounted

_quiddam honorarium_, and not _matter of lucre_, and therefore could not

be recovered, in an action at law. Upon an action brought for surgical

services, the fees were recoverable, because surgeons, upon the testimony

of Dr. Mead, were of a lower grade, having nothing to do with the

pathology of diseases, and never prescribing; but simply performing

certain mechanical acts; and being, like all other artificers and

operatives, worthy of their hire.

Nothing can more clearly exhibit the low state of this noble science, at

the time, and the humble estimation of it, by the public. Chirurgery

seemed destined to grovel, in etymological bondage, [Greek: cheir ergon],

a mere _handicraft_. Barbers and surgeons were incorporated, as one

company, in the fifteenth century, in the reign of Edward IV., and were

called barber-surgeons. At the close of the sixteenth century, Ambrose

Pare, the greatest surgeon of his time in France, did not reject the

appellation of _barber-surgeon_. Henry VIII. dissolved this union, and

gave a new charter in 1540, when it was enacted, that "_no person, using

any shaving or barbery in London, shall occupy any surgery, letting of

blood, or other matter, excepting only the drawing of teeth_." The

_barber-surgeon_ was thus reduced to the _barber-dentist_, which seems not

so agreeable to the practitioner, at present, as the loftier appellation

of _surgeon-dentist_. Sterne was right: there is something in a name. The

British surgeons obtained a new charter, in 1745, and another, in 1800,

and various acts have been subsequently passed, on their behalf. July 17,

1797, Lord Thurlow, in the House of Peers, opposed a new bill, which the

surgeons desired to have passed. Thurlow was a man of morose temperament,

and uncertain humor.

He averred, that so much of the old law was in force, that, to use his own

words, "the barbers and surgeons were each to use a pole, the barbers were

to have theirs blue and white, striped, with no other appendage; but the

surgeons', which was the same, in other respects, was likewise to have a

gallipot and a red rag, to denote the particular nature of their

vocation."

Brand, in his Popular Antiquities, says, that the barber's pole, used in

bleeding, is represented, in an illuminated missal, of the time of Edward

I., Longshanks, whose reign began in 1272. Fosbroke, in his Encyc. of

Antiquities, page 414, says--"A staff, bound by a riband, was held, by

persons being bled, and the pole was intended to denote the practice of

phlebotomy." According to Lord Thurlow's statement, in the House of Peers,

the pole was required, by the statute, to be used, as a sign. The first

statute, incorporating the barber-surgeons, was that of Edward IV., as I

have stated. The missal of Edward I., referred to by Brand, shows, that

the usage was older than the law, and, doubtless, that the popular emblem

was adopted, in the statute, to which Lord Thurlow refers, as still in

force, in 1797.

In Brand's Newcastle, I find, that "it is ordered, Dec. 11, 1711, that

periwig-making be considered part and branch of the Company of

Barber-_Chirurgeons_."

The history of the pole is this: A staff about three feet high, with a

ball on the top, and inserted, at the bottom, in a small cross-piece, was

very convenient for the person to hold, who extended his arm, as he sat

down, to be bled; and a fillet, or tape, was equally convenient for the

ligature. These things the barber-surgeons kept, in a corner of their

shops; and, when not in use, the tape or fillet was wound or twirled round

the staff. When the lawgivers called for a sign, no apter sign could be

given unto them, than this identical staff and fillet; much larger of

course, and to be seen of men much farther.

No. CXLII.

Ancient plays abound with allusions to the barber's _citterne_, or lute,

upon which not only he himself, and his apprentices were accustomed to

play, but all the loiterers in the _tonstrina_. Much of all this may be

found, in the Glossary of Archdeacon Nares, under the article CITTERNE,

and in Fosbroke's Antiquities.

The commonness of its use gave rise to a proverb. In the Silent Woman, Act

II., scene 2, Ben Jonson avails of it. Morose had married a woman,

recommended by his barber, and whose fidelity he suspected, and the

following passage occurs, between Morose and Truewit. Lond., 1816, iii.

411.

_Morose._ That cursed barber!

_Truewit._ Yes, faith, a cursed wretch indeed, sir.

_Morose._ I have married his _cittern_, that's common to all men.

Upon this passage is the following note--"It appears from innumerable

passages, in our old writers, that barbers' shops were furnished with some

musical instrument, commonly a cittern or guitar, for the amusement of

such customers as chose to strum upon it, while waiting for their turn to

be shaved, &c. It should be recollected, that the patience of customers,

if the shop was at all popular, must, in those tedious days of love-locks,

and beards of most fantastical cuts, have been frequently put to very

severe trials. Some kind of amusement therefore was necessary, to beguile

the time."

In old times, in old England, barbers were in the habit of making a

variety of noises, with their fingers and their shears, which noises were

supposed to be agreeable to their customers. Fosbroke, p. 414, refers to

Lily's old play of Mydas, iii. 2, as showing the existence of the custom,

in his time. Lily was born about 1553. There were some, who preferred to

be shaved and dressed quietly. Nares, in his Glossary, refers to Plutarch,

De Garrulitate, for an anecdote of King Archelaus, who stipulated with his

barber to shave him in silence. This barbers' trick was called the "_knack

with the fingers_;" and was extremely disagreeable to Morose, in Ben

Jonson's play, to which I have referred. Thus, in i. 2, Clerimont,

speaking of the partiality of Morose for Cutbeard, the barber, says--"The

fellow trims him silently, and has not the knack with his shears or his

fingers: and that continence in a barber he thinks so eminent a virtue, as

it has made him chief of his counsel."

As barbers were brought first into Rome, from Sicily, so the best razors,

according to Nares and Fosbroke, before the English began to excel in

cutlery, were obtained in Palermo. Their form was unlike those now in use,

and seems more perfectly to correspond with one of the Roman names,

signifying a razor, i. e. _culter_. The blade, like that of a pruning

knife, or sickle, curved slightly inward, the reverse of which is the

modern form.

Smith, in his Ancient Topography of London, says--"The flying barber is a

character now no more to be seen in London, though he still remains in

some of our country villages: he was provided with a napkin, soap, and

pewter basin, the form of which may be seen, in many of the illustrative

prints of Don Quixote. His chafer was a deep leaden vessel, something like

a chocolate pot, with a large ring or handle, at the top; this pot held

about a quart of water, boiling hot; and, thus equipped, he flew about to

his customers."

Old Randle Holme says, "_perawickes_" were very common in his time, about

1668, though unused before "contrary to our forefathers, who wore their

own hair." A barber, in Paris, to recommend his bag wigs, hung over his

door the sign of Absalom. Hone, i. 1262, states that a periwig-maker, to

recommend his wares, turned the reason into rhyme:

"Oh, Absalom, oh Absalom,

Oh Absalom, my son,

If thou hadst worn a periwig,

Thou hadst not been undone."

Hutchinson, i. 152, says periwigs were an eyesore in New England, for

thirty years after the Restoration of Charles II.

Among the Romans, after Mena introduced the practice of shaving, those,

who professed philosophy, still maintained their dignity, and their

beards, as an _ecce signum_. Hence the expression of Horace, Sat. ii. 3,

35, _sapientem pascere barbam_: and of Persius, iv. 1, when speaking of

Socrates:

barbatum haec crede magistrum

Dicere, sorbitio tollit quem dira cicutae.

Of those, who wear beards, at the present day, it has been computed, that,

for one philosopher, there are five hundred fools, at the very lowest

estimate. Manage them as you will, they are troublesome appendages; of

very questionable cleanliness; and mightily in the way of such, as are

much addicted to gravy and spoon victual. Like the burden of our sins, the

postprandial odor of them must be sometimes intolerable.

What an infinite variety of colors we have now-a-days! Bottom, in

Midsummer Night's Dream, i. 2, is in doubt, what beard he shall play

Pyramus in, and, at last, he says--"I will discharge it in either your

straw-colored beard, your orange tawny beard, your purple ingrain beard,

or your French crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow." Now I can

honestly aver, that every fifth dandy I meet, looks precisely like Bottom,

performing Pyramus. Now and then, I meet a fine, full, black beard; but,

even then, it seems to me, that the proud satisfaction the fortunate

proprietor must feel, in going about town with it, must be, in some

degree, counterbalanced, by the necessity of sleeping in it, during the

summer solstice.

The fancy colors, proposed by Bottom, refer to the dyes, in use, at the

period, when Bottom flourished. Indeed, dyeing the beard is of the highest

antiquity. I have no authority that Aaron dyed his. In 1653, John Bulwer

published his "Anthropo-Metamorphosis," or Artificial Changeling, a very

able and curious production. For the antiquity of the silly practice of

dyeing the beard, he refers to Strabo. Old John Bulwer, ch. ix., comments,

with just severity, upon the conduct of those ancient fools, who adopt the

practice--"_In every haire of these old coxcombs, you shall meet with

three divers and sundry colors; white at the roots, yellow in the middle,

and black at the point, like unto one of your parrat's feathers_." What a

graphic description of this nasty appendage! It has ever been to me a

matter of infinite surprise, how any mortal can presume to say his

prayers, with one of these pied abominations on his chin; giving the lie

direct to the volume of inspiration, which avers that he cannot make one

hair black nor white.

Another mystery--how can any man's better half become reconciled to a

husband, dyed thus, in the wool! The colors are not all fast colors, I

believe; and are liable to be rubbed off, by attrition.

Beards were cultivated, to such an excess, in Elizabeth's time, as to

require and receive a check from the legislature. "The growth of beards,"

says Nares, in his Glossary, "was regulated by statute, at Lincoln's Inn,

in the time of Eliz.--Primo Eliz. it was ordered, that no fellow of that

house should wear a beard above a fortnight's growth. Transgression was

punished with fine, loss of commons, and finally expulsion. But fashion

prevailed, and in November, the following year, all previous orders,

touching beards, were repealed."

It was formerly calculated, by Lord Stanhope, that the sum, expended upon

snuff, and the value of the time, consumed in taking it, and the cost of

snuff-boxes, handkerchiefs, &c., if duly invested, would pay off the

national debt. I have a proposal to offer, and I offer it, timidly and

respectfully, for the consideration of those amiable females, who go

about, so incessantly, doing good. Perhaps I may not be able to awaken

their interest, more effectually, than by suggesting the idea, that here

is a very fair opportunity, for the formation of another female auxiliary

society. I take it for granted, that there are some of these bearded

gentlemen, from whom contributions in money, could not easily be obtained,

for any benevolent object. There are some, whose whole estate, real,

personal, and mixed, comprehends very little, beyond a costly malacca

joint, a set of valuable shirtstuds, and a safety chain. Still if we

cudgel the doctrine of political economy, we may get some small

contributions, even from them.

Cortez found, in the treasury of Montezuma, a multitude of little bags,

which were, at last, discovered to be filled with dead lice. The Emperor,

to keep the Mexican beggars out of mischief, had levied this species of

tax. I am well aware, that the power of levying taxes is not vested in

young ladies. They have certain, natural, inherent rights, however, and,

among them, the right and the power of persuasion. Let them organize,

throughout the Union, and establish committees of correspondence. Let them

address a circular to every individual, who wears a beard; and, if their

applications succeed, they will enjoy the luxury of supplying a

comfortable hair mattrass, to every poor widow, and aged single woman in

the United States.

No. CXLIII.

The barber's brush is a luxury of more modern times. Stubbe, in his

"Anatomy of Abuses," says--"When they come to washing, oh, how gingerly

they behave themselves therein. For then shall your mouths be bossed with

the lather or some that rinseth of the balles, (for they have their sweete

balles, wherewith all they use to washe) your eyes closed must be anointed

therewith also. Then snap go the fingers, ful bravely, God wot. Thus, this

tragedy ended; comes the warme clothes to wipe and dry him with all."

Stubbe wrote, about 1550.

Not very long ago, a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, observed--"I am

old enough to remember when the operation of shaving in this kingdom, was

almost exclusively performed by the _barbers_: what I speak of is some

threescore years ago, at which time gentlemen shavers were unknown.

Expedition was then a prime quality in a barber, who smeared the lather

over his customer's face with his hand; for the delicate refinement of the

brush had not been introduced. The lathering of the beard being finished,

the operator threw off the lather, adhering to his hand, by a peculiar

jerk of his arm, which caused the joints of his fingers to crack, this

being a more expeditious mode of clearing the hand, than using a towel for

that purpose; and, the more audible the crack, the higher the shaver

stood, in his own opinion, and in that of the fraternity. This I presume

is the custom alluded to by Stubbe."

The Romans, when bald, wore wigs. Some of the emperors wore miserable

periwigs. Curly locks, however becoming in a male child, are somewhat

ridiculous, trained with manifest care, and descending upon the shoulders

of a full grown boy of forty. In addition to the pole, a peruke was

frequently employed, as the barber's sign. There was the short bob, and

the full bottom; the "hie perrawycke" and the scratch; the top piece, and

the periwig with the pole lock; the curled wig with a dildo, and the

travelling wig, with curled foretop and bobs; the campain wig, with a

dildo on each side, and the toupet, a la mode.

It may seem a paradox to some, that the most _barbarous_ nations should

suffer the hair and beard to grow longest. The management of the hair has

furnished an abundant subject matter for grave attention, in every age and

nation. Cleansing, combing, crimping, and curling, clipping, and

consecrating their locks gave ample occupation to the ladies and gentlemen

of Greece and Rome. At the time of adolescence, and after shipwreck, the

hair was cut off and sacrificed to the divinities. It was sometimes cut

off, at funerals, and cast upon the pile. Curling irons were in use, at

Rome. Girls wore the hair fastened upon the top of the head; matrons

falling on the neck. Shaving the crown was a part of the punishment of

conspirators and thieves. We know nothing, at present, in regard to the

hair, which was unknown at Rome--our _frizzing_ was their _capillorum

tortura_. They had an instrument, called _tressorium_, for plaiting the

hair. In the time of Edward the Confessor, the hair was worn, universally,

long, the laws of England not compelling all, but the nobility, as in

France, to cut the hair short, in that age.

The Romans are said, occasionally to have worn wigs of an enormous size,

which gave occasion to the term, in Martial's epigram, _caput calceatum_.

We have no exact record of the size of those Roman wigs--but I sincerely

wish, that Augustus Caesar or--

"Maecenas, whose high lineage springs,

From fair Etruria's ancient kings,"

could have seen the Rev. Dr. Lathrop's! In Mr. Ward's journal of Samuel

Curwen, that venerable and truly respectable, and amiable, old tory is

represented, with precisely such a wig, but of much smaller diameter. Dr.

John Lathrop died, Jan. 4, 1816, at the age of 75. He published a

considerable number of sermons on various occasions, no one of which is

remarkable for extraordinary talent, or learning. It was, by some

intelligent persons, supposed, that the wig was a great help to him. In

his latter days, he found himself unable, any longer, to bear up, under

such a portentous superstructure, which really appeared to "_overhang_,"

contrary to the statute, and he laid it aside. His influence certainly

appeared to diminish, in some measure, probably, from the increasing

infirmities of age; but, doubtless, in some degree, from the deposition of

the wig. I honestly confess, that I never felt for Dr. Lathrop the same

awful reverence, after he had laid aside this emblem of wisdom. A "wig

full of learning" is an ancient saying, and Cowper makes use of it, in one

of his lighter poems.

I have always looked upon barbers, as an honorable race of men, quite as

much so, as brokers; the barbers seldom fail to shave more gently, and

commonly dismiss an old customer, without drawing blood, or taking off the

skin. We owe them a debt of gratitude withal, on other scores. How very

easily they might cut our throats!

In this goodly city, at the present time, there are more than one hundred

and ten gentlemen, who practice the art of barbery, beside their

respective servants and apprentices. When I was a small boy--very--some

sixty years ago, there were but twenty-nine, and many of them were most

respectable and careful operators--an honor to their profession, and a

blessing to the community.

There was Charles Gavett, in Devonshire Street, the Pudding Lane of our

ancestors. Gavett was a brisk, little fellow; his _tonstrina_ was small,

and rather dark, but always full.

In Brattle Square, just behind the church, John Green kept a shop, for

several years. But John became unsteady, and cut General Winslow, and some

other of his customers, and scalded several others, and lost his business.

In Fish Street, which had then, but recently, ceased to be the court end

of the town, there were several clever barbers--there was Thomas Grubb,

and Zebulon Silvester, and James Adams, and Abraham Florence. I never

heard a syllable against them, or their lather.

At No. 33, Marlborough Street, William Whipple kept a first rate

establishment, and had a high name, among the dandies, as an accomplished

haircutter.

Jonathan Edes kept a small shop, in Ann Street, and had a fair run of

transient custom. He had always a keen edge and a delicate hand. He was

greatly urged to take a larger establishment, in a more fashionable part

of the town, near Cow Lane, but Mr. Edes was not ambitious, and turned a

wiry edge to all such suggestions.

William Mock kept a shop, in Newbury Street, an excellent shaver, but

slow; his shop was not far from the White Horse. He was a peripatetic. I

suspect, but am not certain, that he shaved Dr. Lemuel Hayward.

At the corner of Essex Street, old Auchmuty's Lane, George Gideon kept a

fine stand, clean towels, keen edge, and hot lather; but he had a rough,

coarse hand. He had been one of the sons of liberty, and his shop being

near the old site of Liberty tree, he was rather apt to take liberties

with his customers' noses, especially the noses of the disaffected.

There were two professed wig-makers, in Boston, at that time, who

performed the ordinary functions of barbers beside, William Haslet, in

Adams Street, and John Bosson, in Orange Street. Mr. Bosson was very

famous, in his line, and in great request, among the ladies.

In Marshall's Lane, Edward Hill was an admirable shaver; but, in the

department of hair cutting, inferior to Anthony Howe, whose exceedingly

neat and comfortable establishment was in South Latin School Street. An

excellent hotel was then kept, by Joshua Bracket, at the sign of

Cromwell's Head, on the very spot, where Palmer keeps his fruit shop, and

the very next door below the residence of Dr. John Warren. Bracket

patronized Howe's shop, and sent him many customers. Captain John Boyle,

whose house and bookstore were at No. 18 Marlborough Street, patronized

Anthony Howe.

Samuel Jepson kept his _barbery_, as the shop was sometimes called, in

Temple Street, between the two bakeries of William Breed and Matthew

Bayley.

James Tate was established in Purchase Street. He would have been a good

barber, had he not been a poor poet. He was proud of his descent from

Nahum Tate, the psalmodist, the copartner of Brady. Richard Fox kept also

in Purchase Street, and had a large custom.

A much frequented barber's shop was kept, by William Pierce, near the

Boston Stone. Jonathan Farnham was an excellent barber, in Back Street. He

unluckily had an ominous squint, which was inconvenient, as it impressed

new comers, now and then, with a fear lest he might cut their throats.

Joseph Alexander shaved in Orange Street, and Theodore Dehon, on the north

side of the Old State House.

Joseph Eckley was one of the best shavers and hair cutters in town, some

sixty years ago. His shop was in Wing's Lane. Daniel Crosby, who was also

a wig maker, in Newbury Street, was clerk of Trinity Church.

Augustine Raillion, whose name was often written Revaillion kept his

stand, at No. 48 Newbury Street. He was much given to dogs, ponies, and

other divertisements.

State Street was famous, for four accomplished barbers, sixty years

ago--Stephen Francis, John Gould, John M. Lane, and Robert Smallpiece. The

last was the father of Robert Smallpiece, who flourished here, some thirty

years ago or more, and kept his shop, in Milk Street, opposite the Old

South Church.

It is well known, that the late Robert Treat Paine wrote an ode, upon the

occasion of the Spanish successes, to which he gave the title of "_Spain,

Commerce and Freedom, a National Ode_." It bore unquestionable marks of

genius; but some of the ideas and much of the phraseology were altogether

extravagant. It commenced finely--

"Sound the trumpet of fame! Strike that paean again!

Religion a war against tyranny wages;

From her seat springs, in armor, regenerate Spain,

Like a giant, refresh'd by the slumber of ages.

From the place, where she lay,

She leaps in array,

Like Ajax, to die in the face of the day."

The ode contained some strange expressions--"redintegrant war"--"though

the dismemberd earth effervesce and regender," and so many more, that the

ode, though evidently the work of a man of genius, was accounted

bombastic. A wag of that day, published a parody, of which this Robert

Smallpiece was the hero. It was called, if I mistake not--"Soap, Razors,

and Hot Water, a Tonsorial Ode." The first stanza ran thus--

"Strap that razor so keen! Strap that razor again!

And Smallpiece will shave 'em, if he can come at 'em;

From his stool, clad in aprons, he springs up amain,

Like a barber, refresh'd by the smell of pomatum.

From the place, where he lay,

He leaps in array,

To lather and shave, in the face of the day.

He has sworn from pollution our faces to clean,

Our cheeks, necks, and upper lips, whiskers and chin."

"Paullo majora canamus."

No. CXLIV.

In 1784, Mr. Thomas Percival, an eminent physician, of Manchester, in

England, published a work, against duelling, and sent a copy to Dr.

Franklin. Dr. Franklin replied to Mr. Percival, from Passy, July 17, 1784,

and his reply contains the following observations--"Formerly, when duels

were used to determine lawsuits, from an opinion, that Providence would in

every instance, favor truth and right, with victory, they were excusable.

At present, they decide nothing. A man says something, which another tells

him is a lie. They fight; but whichever is killed, the point in dispute

remains unsettled. To this purpose, they have a pleasant little story

here. A gentleman, in a coffee-house, desired another to sit further from

him. 'Why so?'--'Because, sir, you stink.'--'That is an affront, and you

must fight me.'--'I will fight you, if you insist upon it; but I do not

see how that will mend the matter. For if you kill me, I shall stink too;

and, if I kill you, you will stink, if possible, worse than you do at

present.'"

This is certainly germain to the matter. So far from perceiving any moral

courage, in those, who fight duels, nothing seems more apparent, than the

triumph of one fear, over four other fears--the fear of shame, over the

fear of bringing misery upon parents, wives and children--the fear of the

law--the fear of God--and the fear of death. Many a man will _brave_

death, who fears it.

Death is the king of terrors, and all men stand in awe of him, saving the

Christian, with his armor of righteousness about him, _cap-a-pie_; and

even he, perhaps, is slightly pricked, by that fear, now and then, in

articulo, between the joints of the harness. I must honestly confess, that

I once knew a man, who had a terrible vixen of a wife, and, when about to

die, he replied to his clergyman's inquiry, if he was not afraid to meet

the king of terrors, that he was not, for he had lived with the queen, for

thirty years.

I do not suppose there is a more hypocritical fellow, upon earth, than a

duellist. Mandeville, in his Fable of the Bees, in the second dialogue,

part ii., puts these words into the mouth of Cleomenes, when speaking to

Horatio, on the subject of his duel: "I saw you, that very morning, and

you seemed to be sedate and void of passion: you could have no concern."

Horatio replies--"It is silly to show any, at such times; but I know best

what I felt; the struggle I had within was unspeakable: it is a terrible

thing. I would then have given a considerable part of my estate, that the

thing which forced me into it, had not happened; and yet, upon less

provocation, I would act the same part again, tomorrow." Such is human

nature, and many, who sit down quietly, to write in opposition to this

silly, senseless, selfish practice, would be quite apt enough, upon the

emergency, to throw aside the pacific steel, wherewith they indite, and

take up the cruel rapier. When I was a young man, a Mr. Ogilvie gave

lectures, in Boston, on various subjects. He was the son of Mr. Ogilvie,

to whose praises of the prospects in Scotland, Dr. Johnson replied, by

telling him, that "the noblest prospect, which a Scotchman ever sees, is

the high road, that leads him to England."

The son of this gentleman gave his lectures, in the old Exchange Coffee

House, where I heard him, several times. Under the influence of opium,

which he used very freely, he was, occasionally, quite eloquent. He

lectured, one evening, with considerable power, against duelling. On his

way to his lodgings, some person repeated to him, several piquant and

cutting things, which a gentleman had said of his lecture. Ogilvie was

exceedingly incensed, and swore he would call him out, the very next day.

This law of honor is written nowhere, unless, in letters of blood, in the

volume of pride, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. "What,"

says Cleomenes, in the work I have just now referred to--"What makes so

just and prudent a man, that has the good of society so much at heart, act

knowingly against the laws of his country?"--"The strict obedience," says

Horatio, "he pays to the laws of honor, which are superior to all

others."--"If men of honor," says Cleomenes, "would act consistently, they

ought all to be Roman Catholics."--"Why so?"--"Because," he rejoins, "they

prefer oral tradition, to all written laws; for nobody can tell, when, in

what king's or emperor's reign, in what country, or by what authority,

these laws of honor were first enacted: it is very strange they should be

of such force."

It is certainly very strange, that their authority should have been

acknowledged, in some cases, not only by professing Christians, but even

by the ministers of religion. Four individuals, of this holy calling,

stand enrolled, as duellists, on the blood-guilty register of England. In

1764, the Rev. Mr. Hill was killed in a duel, by Cornet Gardner. On the

18th of June, 1782, the Rev. Mr. Allen killed Mr. Lloyd Dulany, in a duel.

In August, 1827, Mr. Grady was wounded in a duel, by the Rev. Mr. Hodson.

The Rev. Mr. Bate fought two duels--was subsequently made Baronet--fought

a third duel, and was made Dean. If such atrocities were not preeminently

horrible, how ridiculous they would be!

It would not be agreeable to be placed in that category, in which a worthy

bishop placed those, who, after Dr. Johnson's death, began to assail his

reputation. "_The old lion is dead_," said the bishop, "_and now every ass

will be kicking at his hide_." Better and safer, however, to be there,

than to bide with those, who receive all the coarse, crude, mental

eructations of this truly good and great man, for _dicta perennia_. A

volume of outrageously false teachings might readily be selected, from the

recorded outpourings of this great literary whale, whenever Boswell, by a

little tickling, caused his Leviathan to spout. Too much tea, or none at

all, too much dinner, or too little certainly affected his qualifications,

as a great moral instructor; and, under the teazle of contradiction, the

nap of his great spirit fairly stood on end; and, at such times, he sought

victory too often, rather than the truth. It has always seemed to me, that

dinner-table philosophy, especially _apres_, is often of very questionable

value.

Dr. Johnson has frequently been quoted, on the subject of duelling. Some

of his opinions were delivered, on this subject, suddenly, and seem

entirely unworthy of his majestic powers. At a dinner party, at Gen.

Oglethorpe's--I refer to Boswell's Johnson, in ten volumes, Lond. 1835,

vol. iii. page 216--Boswell brought up the subject of duelling. Gen.

Oglethorpe, _the host_, "fired at this, and said, with a lofty air,

'undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his honor.'"

Dr. Johnson, the _principal guest_, did the civil thing, and took the same

side, and is reported, by Boswell, to have said substantially--"Sir, as

men become in a high degree refined, various causes of offence arise;

which are considered to be of such importance, that life must be staked to

atone for them; though, in reality, they are not so. A body, that has

received a very fine polish, may be easily hurt. Before men arrive at

this artificial refinement, if one tells his neighbor he lies--his

neighbor tells him he lies--if one gives his neighbor a blow, his neighbor

gives him a blow: but, in a state of highly polished society, an affront

is held to be a serious injury. It must therefore be resented, or rather a

duel must be fought upon it; as men have agreed to banish, from society,

one, who puts up with an affront, without fighting a duel. Now, sir, it is

never unlawful to fight, in self-defence. He, then, who fights a duel,

does not fight from passion against his antagonist, but out of

self-defence, to avert the stigma of the world, and to prevent himself

from being driven out of society. I could wish there was not that

superfluity of refinement; but, while such notions prevail, no doubt a man

may lawfully fight a duel." I must have another witness, besides Mr.

Boswell, before I believe, that Dr. Johnson uttered these words. Dr.

Johnson could never have maintained, that the _lawfulness_ of an act

depended upon the existence of certain popular _notions_. Nor is it true,

nor was it then true, that _men have agreed to banish, from society, one,

who puts up with an affront, without fighting a duel_.

Dr. Johnson seems to have made no distinction, between military men and

the rest of the world. It is impossible to doubt, that the Doctor was

graciously disposed to favor Gen. Oglethorpe's _notions_, and that he

would have taken the opposite side, had he been the guest of the

Archbishop of Canterbury. "_It is not unlawful to fight, in

self-defence_:" the law, by punishing all killing, in a duel, as murder,

in the very first degree, shows clearly enough, that duelling is never

looked upon, as fighting, in self-defence. It is remarkable, that Mr.

Boswell, himself a lawyer, should have thought this paragraph worthy of

preservation.

On page 268, of the same volume, Mr. Boswell has the following

record--"April 19, 1773, he again defended duelling, and put his argument

upon what I have ever thought the most solid basis; that, if public war be

allowed to be consistent with morality, private war must be equally so."

And this, in Mr. Boswell's opinion, was _the most solid basis_! It is

difficult to perceive what is stubble, if this is not. Whither does this

argument carry us all, but back to the state of nature--of uncovenanted

man--of man, who has surrendered none of his natural rights, as a

consideration for the blessings of government and law? A state of nature

and a state of society are very different things. Who will doubt, that, if

Dr. Johnson really uttered these things, he would have talked more warily,

could he have imagined, that Bozzy would have transmitted them to distant

ages?

It is, nevertheless, perfectly clear, that Dr. Johnson, upon both these

occasions, had talked, only for the pride and pleasure of talking; for Mr.

Boswell records a very different opinion, vol. iv. page 249. Sept. 19,

1773.--Dr. Johnson then had thoroughly digested General Oglethorpe's

dinner; and Mr. Boswell's record runs thus--"_He fairly owned he could not

explain the rationality of duelling_."

Poor Mr. Boswell! It is not unreasonable, to suppose, that he had

inculcated his notions, upon the subject of duelling, in his own family,

and repeated, for the edification of his sons, the valuable sentiments of

Dr. Johnson. Mr. Boswell died, May 19, 1795. Seven and twenty years after

his death, his son, Sir Alexander Boswell, was killed, in a duel, at

Auchterpool, by Mr. James Stuart, March 26, 1822. Upon the trial of

Stuart, for murder, Mr. Jeffrey, who defended him, quoted the very

passage, in which Dr. Johnson had justified, to the father, that fatal sin

and folly, which had brought the son to an untimely grave!

No. CXLV.

Dr. Franklin, in his letter to Mr. Percival, referred to, in my last

number, observes, that, "formerly, when duels were used, to determine

lawsuits, from an opinion, that Providence would, in every instance, favor

truth and right with victory, they were excusable." Dr. Johnson did not

think this species of duel so absurd, as it is commonly supposed to be:

"it was only allowed," said he, "when the question was in equilibrio, and

they had a notion that Providence would interfere in favor of him, who was

in the right." Bos., vol. iv. page 14. The lawfulness of a thing may

excuse it: but there are some laws, so very absurd, that one stares at

them, in the statute book, as he looks at flies in amber, and marvels

"_how the devil they got there_." There was, I am gravely assured, in the

city of New Orleans, not very long ago, a practitioner of the healing art,

who was called _the Tetotum doctor_--he felt no pulse--he examined no

tongue--he asked no questions for conscience' sake, nor for any other--his

tetotum was marked with various letters, on its sides--he sat down, in

front of the patient, and spun his tetotum--if B. came uppermost, he bled

immediately--if P., he gave a purge--if E., an emetic--if C., a clyster,

and so on. If there be less wisdom, in this new mode of practice, than in

the old wager of Battel, I perceive it not.

Both Drs. Franklin and Johnson refer to it, as an _ancient_ practice. It

was supposed, doubtless, to have become obsolete, and a dead letter,

extinguished by the mere progress of civilization. Much surprise,

therefore, was excited, when, at a period, as late as 1818, an attempt was

made to revive it, in the case of Ashford _vs._ Thornton, tried before the

King's Bench, in April of that year. This was a case of appeal of murder,

under the law of England. Thornton had violated, and murdered the sister

of Ashford; and, as a last resort, claimed his right to _wager of battel_.

The court, after full consideration, felt themselves obliged to admit the

claim, under the unrepealed statute of 9, William II., passed A. D. 1096.

Ashford, the appellant, and brother of the unfortunate victim, declined to

accept the challenge, and the murderer was accordingly discharged. This

occurred, in the 58th year of George III., and a statute was passed, in

1819, putting an end to this terrible absurdity. Had the appellant, the

brother, accepted this legalized challenge, what a barbarous exhibition

would have been presented to the world, at this late day, through the

inadvertence of Parliament, in omitting to repeal this preposterous law!

In a former number, I quoted a sentiment, attributed, by Boswell, to Dr.

Johnson, and which, I suppose, was no deliberate conviction of his, but

uttered, in the course of his dinner-table talk, for the gratification of

Gen. Oglethorpe, "_Men have agreed to banish from society, a man, who puts

up with an affront without fighting a duel_." This is not asserted, as an

independent averment, but assumed or taken for granted, as the basis of

the argument, such as it was. Is this a fact? Cannot cases innumerable be

stated, to prove, that it is not? The words, ascribed to Dr. Johnson, are

not confined to any class or profession, but are of universal

application. Have men agreed to banish from society every man, who refuses

to fight a duel, when summoned to that refreshing amusement? Let us

examine a few cases. General Jackson did not lose caste, because he

omitted to challenge Randolph, for pulling his nose. Josiah Quincy was not

banished from society, for refusing the challenge of a Southern Hotspur. I

believe, that Judge Thacher, of Maine, would have been much less

respected, had he gone out to be shot, when invited, than he ever has

been, for the very sensible answer to his antagonist, that he would talk

to Mrs. Thacher about it, and be guided by her opinion. Nobody ever

supposed, that Judge Breckenridge suffered, in character or standing,

because he told his challenger, that he _wouldn't come_; but, that he

might sketch his, the Judge's, figure, on a board, and fire at that, till

he was weary, at any distance he pleased; and if he hit it, upon a

certificate of the fact, the Judge would agree to it.

Had Hamilton refused the challenge of Burr, his _deliberate murderer_, his

fame would have remained untarnished--his countrymen would never have

forgotten the 14th of October, 1781--the charge of that advanced

corps--the fall of Yorktown! On his death-bed, Hamilton expressed his

abhorrence of the practice; and solemnly declared, should he survive,

never to be engaged in another duel. "_Pendleton knows_," said he, in a

dying hour, referring to Burr, and addressing Dr. Hossack, "_that I did

not intend to fire at him_." How different from the blood-thirsty purposes

of his assassin! In vol. x. of Jeremy Bentham's works, pages 432-3, the

reader will find a letter from Dumont to Bentham, in which the Frenchman

says, referring to a conversation with Burr, in 1808, four years after the

duel--"_His duel with Hamilton was a savage affair_:" and Bentham

adds--"_He gave me an account of his duel with Hamilton; he was sure of

being able to kill him, so I thought it little better than murder_."

In England, _politics_ seem to have given occasion to very many affairs of

this nature--the duels of the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun, in 1712,

fatal to both--Mr. Martin and Mr. Wilkes, in 1763--the Lords Townshend and

Bellamont, in 1773--C. J. Fox and Mr. Adam, in 1779--Capt. Fullerton and

Lord Shelburne, in 1780--Lord Macartney and Major General Stuart, in

1786--the Duke of York and Colonel Lenox, in 1789--Mr. Curran and Major

Hobart, in 1790--Earl of Lonsdale and Capt. Cuthbert, in 1792--Lord

Valentia and Mr. Gawler, in 1796--William Pitt and George Tierney, in

1798--Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Paull, in 1807--Lord Castlereagh and Mr.

Canning, in 1809--Mr. O'Connell and Mr. D'Esterre, in 1815--Mr. Grattan

and the Earl of Clare, in 1820--Sir A. Boswell and James Stuart, in

1822--Mr. Long Wellesly and Mr. Crespigny, in 1828--the Duke of Wellington

and the Earl of Winchelsea, in 1829--Lord Alvanley and Morgan O'Connell,

in 1835--Sir Colquhon Grant and Lord Seymour, in 1835--Mr. Roebuck and Mr.

Black, in 1835--Mr. Ruthven and Mr. Scott, in 1836--the Earl of Cardigan

and Mr. Tuckett, in 1840.

Sir J. Barrington says, that, during his grand climacteric, two hundred

and twenty-seven duels were fought. In different ages and nations, various

preventives have been employed. Killing in a duel, here and in England, is

murder, in the surviving principal, and seconds. To add effect to the law,

it was proclaimed, by 30, Charles II., 1679, to be _an unpardonable

offence_.

Disqualification from holding office, and dismissal from the army and navy

have, at different times, been held up, in terrorem. In England, eighteen

survivors have suffered the penalty, provided against duelling. Major

Campbell was hung, in 1808, for having killed Capt. Boyd, in a duel.

In 1813, Lieutenant Blundell was killed in a duel at Carisbroke Castle:

the survivor and both seconds were tried, and convicted of murder; and,

though subsequently pardoned, dismissed the service. "Duels," says Sir

George Mackenzie, "are but illustrious murders." Mr. Addison recommends

the pillory. The councils of Valentia and Trent excommunicated such

combatants; but a man, who has made up his mind to fight a duel, cares

little for the church.

During the first eighteen years of the reign of Henry IV., four thousand

persons were slain, in duels, in France. He published his famous edict of

Blois, against duels, in 1602: and, in 1609, added, to the existing

penalties, punishment by death, confiscations, fines, and imprisonment,

respectively, for all, concerned in fighting or abetting, even as

spectators, or as casual passers, who did not interpose. All this,

however, was the work of Sully: for this consistent king, at this very

time, gave Crequi leave to fight the Duke of Savoy, and even told him,

that he would be his second, were he not a king.

Duels were so frequent, in the reign of his successor, Louis XIII., that

Lord Herbert, who was then ambassador, at the court of France, used to

say, there was not a Frenchman, worth looking at, who had not killed his

man. "_Who fought yesterday?_" was the mode of inquiring after the news of

the morning. The most famous duellist of the age was Montmorenci, Count de

Bouttville. He and the Marquis de Beuoron, setting their faces against all

authority, and, persisting in this amusement, it was found necessary to

take their stubborn heads off. They were tried, convicted, and beheaded. A

check was, at length, put to these excesses, by Louis XIV. A particular

account of all this will be found in Larrey, _Histoire de France, sons le

Regne de Louis XIV._, tom. ii. p. 208. Matters, during the minority of

Louis XIV., had come to a terrible pass. The Dukes de Beaufort and Nemours

had fought a duel, with four seconds each, and converted it into a _Welch

main_, as the cock-fighters term a _melee_. They fought, five to five,

with swords and pistols. Beaufort killed Nemours--the Marquis de Villars

killed D'Henricourt, and D'Uzerches killed De Ris. In 1663, another affair

took place, four to four. The king finally published his famous edict of

1679. The marshals of France and the nobility entered into a solemn league

and covenant, never to fight a duel, on any pretence whatever; and Louis

le Grand adhered to his oath, and resolutely refused pardon to every

offender. This greatly checked the evil, for a time.

Kings will die, and their worthy purposes are not always inherited by

their successors; soon after the death of the great monarch, the practice

of duelling revived in France.

The only radical and permanent preventive, of this equally barbarous, and

foolish custom, lies, in the moral and religious education of the people.

The infrequency of the practice, in New England, arises entirely from the

fact, that the moral and religious training of the community has taught

them to look upon a duellist, as an exceedingly unfashionable personage.

New Englanders are a calculating race. They _calculate_, that it is

infinitely better to mind their business, and die quietly in their beds,

than to go out and be shot, by the very fellow, who has not the decency to

say he is sorry, for treading on their toes, when he was drunk--and they

are a fearful race, for they fear the reprehension of the wise and good,

and the commands of God, more than they fear the decisions of a lawless

tribunal, where fools sit in judgment, and whose absurd decrees are

written on the sand.

No. CXLVI.

Some nine and thirty years ago, I was in the habit, occasionally, when I

had no call, in my line, of strolling over to the Navy Yard, at

Charlestown, and spending an evening, in the cabin of a long, dismantled,

old hulk, that was lying there. Once in a while, we had a very pleasant

dinner party, on board that old craft. That cabin was the head-quarters of

my host. It was the cabin of that ill-fated frigate, the Chesapeake. My

friend had been one of her deeply mortified officers, when she was

surrendered, by James Barron, to the British frigate Leopard, without

firing a gun, June 23, 1807.

A sore subject this, for my brave, old friend. I well remember to have

dined, in that cabin, one fourth of July, with some very pleasant

associates--there were ten of us--we were very noisy then--all, but

myself, are still enough now--they are all in their graves. I recollect,

that, towards the close of the entertainment, some allusion to the old

frigate, in which we were assembled, revived the recollection of the day,

when those stars and stripes came down. We sat in silence, listening to

the narrative of our host, whose feelings were feverishly and painfully

excited--"It would have been a thousand times better," said he, "if the

old hulk had gone to bottom and every man on board. The country might

then, possibly, have been spared the war; for our honor would have been

saved, and there would have been less to fight for. Unprepared as we were,

for such an attack, at a time of profound peace, we ought to have gone

down, like little Mudge, who, while his frigate was sinking, thanked God

the Blanche was not destined to wear French colors!"

When he paused, and, with the back of his hand, brushed away the tears

from his eyes, we were all of his mind, and wished he had been in command,

that day, instead of James Barron; for this old friend of mine was a very,

very clever fellow--a warmer heart never beat in a braver bosom. There was

one thing, however, that I could never break him of, and yet I had some

little influence with him, in those days--I mean the _habit_ of fighting

duels. He would not harm a fly, but he would shoot a man, in an honorable

way, at the shortest notice, and the shortest distance. He fought a duel,

on one occasion, when, being challenged, and having the choice of

distance, he insisted on three paces, saying he was so near-sighted, he

could not hit a barn door, at ten. He was apt to be, not affectedly, but

naturally, jocular, on such occasions.

Another old friend of mine, in by-gone days, the elder son of the late

Governor Brooks, was second, in one of these duels, to the friend, of whom

I am speaking. Major Brooks had, occasionally, indulged himself, in the

publication of poetical effusions. When the parties and their seconds came

upon the ground, he found, that he had brought no leather, to envelop the

ball, as usual, in loading; and, drawing a newspaper from his pocket, tore

off the corner, on which some verses were printed: at this moment, his

principal drawing near, said, in an under tone, "_I hope that isn't one of

your fugitive pieces, Alek_."

Though our lines were, of late years, cast far apart, I always rejoiced in

his good fortune. After having occupied a very elevated position, for some

time, in the naval department, he fell--poor fellow--not in a duel--but in

a moment, doubtless, of temporary, mental derangement, by his own hand.

The news of my old friend's death reached me, just before dinner--I

postponed it till the next day--went home--sat alone--and had that old

dinner, in the cabin of the Chesapeake, warmed over, upon the coals of the

imagination, and seated around me every guest, who was there that day,

just as fresh, as if he had never been buried.

James Barron was an unlucky dog, to say the least of it. Striking the

stars and stripes, without firing a gun, was enough for one life. For this

he was tried, found guilty, and suspended from duty, for five years, from

Feb. 8, 1808, and deprived of his pay. He went abroad; and, during his

absence, war was declared, which continued about two years, after the

termination of his suspension. He returned, at last, and sought

employment; Decatur officially opposed his claims; and thereupon he

challenged, and killed Decatur, the pride of the American navy; and, after

this, he received employment from the government. The services of James

Barron are not likely to be undervalued. Decatur's offence consisted, in

his declaration of opinion, that Barron did not return to the service of

his country, as in duty bound. The duel took place March 22, 1820. After

this, Barron demanded a Court of Inquiry, to settle this point. The Court

consisted of Commodores Stewart and Morris and Captain Evans, and

convened May 10, 1821, and the conclusion of the sentence is this--"It is

therefore the opinion of the court, that his (Barron's) absence from the

United States, without the permission of the government, was contrary to

his duty, as an officer, in the navy of the United States."

Here then was another silly and senseless duel. Mr. Allen, in his

Biographical Dictionary remarks--"The correspondence issued in a challenge

from Barron, though he considered duelling '_a barbarous practice, which

ought to be exploded from civilized society_.' And the challenge was

accepted by Decatur, though he '_had long since discovered, that fighting

duels is not even an unerring criterion of personal courage_.'"

They fired at the same instant; Barron fell immediately, wounded in the

hip, where Decatur had mercifully declared his intention to wound him;

Decatur stood erect, for a moment--put his hand to his right side--and

fell, mortally wounded. He was raised, and supported, a few steps, and

sunk down, exhausted, near Barron. Captain Mackenzie, in his Life of

Decatur, page 322, gives his opinion, that this duel could have been

gracefully prevented, on the ground; and such will be the judgment,

doubtless, of posterity. Capt. Jesse D. Elliot was the second of

Barron--Com. Bainbridge of Decatur. After they had taken their stands,

Barron said to Decatur, that he hoped, "_on meeting, in another world,

they would be better friends, than they had been in this_."

To this Decatur replied, "_I have never been your enemy, sir_." "Why,"

says Captain Mackenzie, "could not this aspiration for peace, between

them, in the next world, on one part, and this comprehensive disclaimer of

all enmity, on the other, have been seized by the friends, for the

purposes of reconciliation?" A pertinent question truly--but of very ready

solution. These seconds, like most others, acted, like military

undertakers; their office consists, as they seem to suppose, in seeing the

bodies duly cared for; and all consideration for the chief mourners, and

such the very principals often are, is out of the question. With all his

excellent qualities, Commodore Bainbridge, as every one, who knew him

well, will readily admit, was not possessed of that happy mixture of

qualities, to avail of this pacific _prestige_. It was an overture--such

Barron afterwards avowed it to have been. On the 10th of October, 1818,

Decatur had been the second of Com. Perry, in his duel with Captain Heath,

which was terminated, after the first fire, by Decatur's declaration,

that Com. Perry had avowed his purpose, not to fire at Capt Heath. Had

Perry lived, and been at hand, it is highly probable, that Decatur would

not have fallen, for Perry would, doubtless, have been his second, and

readily availed of the expressions of the parties, on the ground.

Had Charles Morris, whose gallantry and discretion have mingled into a

proverb--had he been the second of his old commander, by whose side, he

stood, on the Philadelphia's deck, in that night of peril, February, 1804,

who can doubt, the pacific issue of this most miserable adventure!

Seconds, too frequently, are themselves the instigators and supporters of

these combats. True or false, the tale is a fair one, of two friends, who

had disputed over their cups; and, by the exciting expressions of some

common acquaintances, were urged into a duel. They met early the next

morning--the influence of the liquor had departed--the seconds loaded the

pistols, and placed their principals--but, before the word was given, one

of them, rubbing his eyes, and looking about him, exclaims--"there is some

mistake, there can be no enmity between us two, my old friend; these

fellows, who have brought us here, upon this foolish errand, are our

enemies, let us fire at them." The proposition was highly relished, by the

other party, and the seconds took to their heels.

Well: we left Decatur and Barron, lying side by side, and weltering in

their blood. The strife was past, and they came to a sort of friendly

understanding. Barron, supposing his wound to be fatal, said all things

had been conducted honorably, and that he forgave Decatur, from the bottom

of his heart. Mackenzie, in a note, on page 325, refers to a conversation

between them, as they lay upon the ground, until the means of

transportation arrived. He does not give the details, but says they would

be "creditable to the parties, and soothing to the feelings of the

humane." I understood, at the time, from a naval officer of high rank, and

have heard it often, repeated, that Decatur said, "Barron, why didn't you

come home and fight your country's battles?" that Barron replied, "I was

too poor to pay my debts, and couldn't get away,"--and that Decatur

rejoined, "If I had known that, we should not be lying here." Strip this

matter of its honorable epidermis, and there is something quite ridiculous

in the idea of doing such an unpleasant thing, and all for nothing!

These changes, from hostility to amity, are often extremely sudden. I have

read, that Rapin, the historian, when young, fought a duel, late in the

evening, with small swords. His sword broke near the hilt--he did not

perceive it, and continued to fence with the hilt alone. His antagonist

paused and gave him notice; and, like the two girls, in the Antijacobin,

they flew into each other's arms, and "swore perpetual amity."

No. CXLVII.

M. De Vassor wrote with a faulty pen, when he asserted, in his history,

that the only good thing Louis XIV. did, in his long reign of fifty-six

years, consisted in his vigorous attempts, to suppress the practice of

duelling. Cardinal Richelieu admits, however, in his _Political

Testament_, that his own previous efforts had been ineffectual, although

he caused Messieurs de Chappelle and Bouteville to be executed, for the

crime, in disregard of the earnest importunities of their numerous and

powerful friends. No public man ever did more, for the suppression of the

practice, than Lord Bacon, while he was attorney general. His celebrated

charge, upon an information in the star chamber, against Priest & Wright,

vol. iv. page 399, Lond. 1824, was ordered to be printed, by the Lords of

Council; and was vastly learned and powerful, in its way. It is rather

amusing, upon looking at the decree, which followed, dated Jan. 26, 2

James I., to see how such matters were then managed; the information,

against Priest, was, "_for writing and sending a letter of challenge

together with a stick, which should be the length of the weapon_."

Such measures are surely well enough, as far as they go; but can be of no

lasting influence, unless certain processes are simultaneously carried on,

to meliorate the moral tone, in society. Without the continual employment

of moral and religious alteratives--laws, homilies, charges, decrees,

ridicule, menances of disinherison here, and damnation hereafter will be

of very little use. They are outward applications--temporary repellants,

which serve no other purpose, than to drive back the distemper, for a

brief space, but reach not the seat of the disorder. As was stated, in a

former number, nothing will put an end to this practice, but

indoctrination--the mild, antiphlogistic system of the Gospel. Wherever

its gentle spirit prevails, combined with intellectual and moral culture,

there will be no duels. Temperance forms, necessarily, an important part

of that antiphlogistic system--for a careful examination will show, that,

in a very great number of cases, duels have originated over the table--we

import them, corked up in bottles, which turn out, now and then, to be

vials of wrath.

One of the most ferocious duels, upon record, is that, between Lord Bruce

and Sir Edward Sackville, of which the survivor, Sir Edward, wrote an

account from Louvain, Sept. 8, 1613. These fellows appear to have been

royal tigers, untameable even by Herr Driesbach. This brutal and bloody

fight took place, at Bergen op Zoom, near Antwerp. The _cause_ of this

terrible duel has never been fully ascertained, but the _manner and

instrument_, by which these blood-thirsty gentlemen were put in the

ablative, are indicated in the letter--they fought with _rapiers and in

their shirts_. I have neither room nor taste for the details: by the

curious in such matters, some account may be gathered, in Collins's

Peerage, which refers to the correspondence, preserved in manuscript, in

Queen's College library, Oxford. These, with Sir Edward's letter, may be

found in Wood's Athenae Oxonienses also, vol. iii. page 314, Lond. 1817.

Wood says--"_he (Sackville) entered into a fatal quarrel, upon a subject

very unwarrantable, with a young Scottish nobleman, the Lord Bruce_."

Sackville was afterward Earl of Dorset. A more accessible authority, for

the reader, probably, is the Guardian, vol. iii. No. 133, though the

former is more full, and taken from the original manuscript, in the

Ashmole Museum, with the ancient spelling.

The duel, with swords, between the Lords Mohun and Hamilton, in Hyde Park,

Nov. 15, 1712, was nearly as brutal. Both were killed. Richard Brinsley

Sheridan's duel with Matthews--the second I mean, for they had two

duels--was a very doglike thing indeed. They fought, first, with pistols,

and, not killing each other, as speedily as they wished, resorted to their

swords. They cut and pricked each other, at a terrible rate; and, losing

all patience and temper, closed, rough and tumble, went heels over head,

rolled, and puffed, and tussled, in the dust and dirt, till, at last, they

were literally pulled apart, like two dogs, by their tails, and a part of

Matthews' sword was found sticking in Sheridan's ear. Gentlemanly

satisfaction this! It has sometimes occurred, that advantages, unduly

taken, on the ground, such as firing out of order, for example, have

converted the killing into murder, in the eyes even of the seconds, which

it ever is, at all such meetings, in the eye of the law. Such was the case

in the duels, between M'Keon and Reynolds, Jan. 31, 1788, and between

Campbell and Boyd, June 23, 1808.

Doubtless, there are men of wonderfully well balanced minds, who go about

their business, with great apparent composure, after they have killed

their antagonists in duels. Now and then, there is one, who takes things

more gravely--_nervously_, perhaps. Poor fellow, he feels rather

unpleasantly, when he chances to go by the husbandless mansion--or passes

that woman, whom he has made a widow--or sees, hand in hand, those little

children, in their sober garments, whom the accursed cunning of his red,

right hand has rendered orphans! Such feeble spirits there are--the heart

of a duellist should be made of sterner stuff.

June 8, 1807, Mr. Colclough was killed in a duel, by Mr. Alcock, who

immediately lost his reason, and was carried from the ground to the

madhouse. Some years ago, I visited the Lunatic Hospital in Philadelphia;

and there saw, among its inmates, a well known gentleman, who had killed

_his friend_, in a duel. He had referred, while conversing, to his hair,

which had grown very gray, since I last saw him. A bystander said, in a

mild way--gray hairs are honorable--"_Aye_," he replied, "_honor made my

hairs gray_."

I know, very well, that the common, lawless duel is supposed, by many

persons, to have sprung from the old _wager of battel_, defined, by Fleta,

in his law Latin, _singularis pugnus inter duos ad probandum litem, et qui

vicit probasse intelligitur_. The first time we hear of the _wager of

Battel_, as a written judicial rule, is A. D. 501, in the reign of

Gundibald, king of Burgundy; and it was in use, among the Germans, Danes,

and Franks. The practice or usage was common, however, to all the Celtic

nations. It came into England, with William the Conqueror. It happens,

however, that men have ever been disposed to settle their disputes, by

fighting about them, since the world began.

If the classical reader will open his Velleius Paterculus, lib. ii., and

read the first sentence of section 118, he will see, that, when Quintilius

Varus endeavored to persuade the rude Germans, to adopt the laws and

usages of Rome, in the adjustment of their disputes, between man and man,

they laughed at his simplicity, and told him they had a summary mode of

settling these matters, among themselves, by the arm of flesh. This

occurred, shortly after the birth of Christ, or about 500 years _before_

the time of Gundibald. Instead of attempting to trace the origin of modern

duelling to the legalized _wager of battel_, we may as well look for its

moving cause, in the heart of man.

Duels are of very ancient origin. Abel was a noncombatant. Had it been

otherwise, the affair, between him and Cain, would have been the first

affair of honor; and his death would not have been _murder_, but _killing

in a duel_! One thousand and fifty-eight years, according to the

chronology of Calmet, before the birth of Christ, the very first duel was

fought, near a place called _Shochoh_, which certainly sounds as roughly,

on the ear, as _Hoboken_. There seems not to have been, upon that

occasion, any of the ceremony, practised, now-a-days--there were no

regular seconds--no surgeons--no marking off the ground--and each party

had the right, to use whatever weapons he pleased.

Two armies were drawn up, in the face of each other. A man, of unusually

large proportions, stepped between them, and proposed an adjustment of

their national differences, by single combat, and challenged any man of

his opponents, to fight a duel with him. He was certainly a fine looking

fellow, and armed to the teeth. He came, without any second or friend, to

adjust the preliminaries; and no one was with him, but an armor bearer,

who carried his shield. The audacity of this unexpected challenge, and the

tremendous limbs of the challenger, for a time, produced a sort of panic,

in the opposite army--no man seemed inclined to break a spear with the

tall champion. At last, after he had strutted up and down, for some time,

there came along a smart little fellow, a sort of cowboy or sheep-herd,

who was sent to the army by his father, with some provisions, for his

three brothers, who had enlisted, and a few fine cheeses, for the colonel

of their regiment, the father thinking, very naturally, doubtless, that a

present of this kind might pave the way for their promotion. The old

gentleman's name was Jesse--an ancestor, doubtless, of John Heneage Jesse,

whose memoirs of George Selwyn we have all read, with so much pleasure.

The young fellow arrived with his cheeses, at the very time, when this

huge braggart was going about, strutting and defying. Hearing, that the

King had offered his daughter in marriage, with a handsome dowry, to any

one, who would kill this great bugbear out of the way, this stripling

offered to do it.

When he was brought into the royal presence, the King, struck by his youth

and slender figure, told him, without ceremony, that the proposition was

perfect nonsense, and that he would certainly get his brains knocked out,

by such a terrible fellow. But the young man seemed nothing daunted, and

respectfully informed his majesty, that, upon one occasion, he had had an

affair with a lion, and, upon another, with a bear, and that he had taken

the lion by the beard, and slain him.

The King finally consented, and proceeded to put armor on the boy, who

told his majesty, that he was very much obliged to him, but had much

rather go without it. The challenge was duly accepted. But, when they came

together, on the ground, all the modern notions of etiquette appear to

have been set entirely at defiance. Contrary to all the rules of

propriety, the principals commenced an angry conversation. When the

challenger first saw the little fellow, coming towards him, with a stick

and a sling, he really supposed they were hoaxing him. He felt somewhat,

perhaps, like Mr. Crofts, when he was challenged, in 1664, by Humphrey

Judson, the dwarf; who, nevertheless, killed him, at the first fire.

When the youngster marched up to him, the challenger was very indignant,

and asked if he took him for a dog, that he came out to him, with a stick;

and, in a very ungentlemanly way, hinted something about making mince meat

of his little antagonist, for the crows. The little fellow was not to be

outdone, in this preparatory skirmish of words; for he threatened to take

off the giant's head in a jiffy, and told him the ravens should have an

alderman's meal, upon his carcass.

Such bandying of rough words is entirely out of order, on such occasions.

At it they went; and, at the very first fire, down came the bully upon his

face, struck, upon the frontal sinus, with a smooth stone from a sling.

The youngster, I am sorry to say, contrary to all the rules of duelling,

ran up to him, after he was down, and chopped off his head, with his own

sword; for, as I have already stated, there were no seconds, and there was

no surgeon at hand, to attend to the mutilated gentleman, after he was

satisfied.

The survivor, who seems to have been the founder of his own

fortune--_novus homo_--became eminently distinguished for his fine

poetical talents, and composed a volume of lyrics, which have passed

through innumerable editions. The one hundred and forty-fourth of the

series is supposed, by the critics, to have been commemorative of this

very affair of honor--_Blessed be the Lord, my strength, who teacheth my

hands to war, and my fingers to fight_.

No. CXLVIII.

The duel, between David and Goliath, bears a striking resemblance to that,

between Titus Manlius and the Gaul, so finely described, by Livy, lib.

vii. cap. 10. In both cases, the circumstances, at the commencement, were

precisely alike. The armies of the Hernici and of the Romans were drawn

up, on the opposite banks of the Anio--those of the Israelites and of the

Philistines, on two mountains, on the opposite sides of the valley of

Elah. "Tum eximia corporis magnitudine in vacuum pontem Gallus processit,

et quantum maxima voce potuit, _quem nunc_ inquit _Roma virum fortissimum

habet, procedat, agedum, ad pugnam, ut noster duorum eventus ostendat,

utra gens bello sit melior_." Then, a Gaul of enormous size, came down

upon the unoccupied bridge, and cried out, as loud as he could, let the

bravest of the Romans come forth--let him come on--and let the issue of

our single combat decide, which nation is superior in war.--And there went

out a champion out of the camp of the Philistines, named Goliath of Gath,

whose height was six cubits and a span. * * * * And he stood, and cried

unto the armies of Israel, and said unto them, why are ye come out to set

your battle in array? Am not I a Philistine, and ye servants of Saul?

Choose you a man for you, and let him come down to me. If he be able to

fight with me and to kill me, then will we be your servants; but if I

prevail against him and kill him, then shall ye be our servants, and serve

us.

The next point, is the effect upon the two armies: "Diu inter primores

juvenum Romanorum silentium fuit, quum et abnuere certamen vererentur, et

praecipuam sortem periculi petere nollent." There was a long silence, upon

this, among the chiefs of the young Romans; for, while they were afraid to

refuse the challenge, they were reluctant to encounter this peculiar kind

of peril.--When Saul and all Israel heard those words of the Philistine,

they were dismayed and greatly afraid.

After Titus Manlius had accepted the challenge, he seems desirous of

giving his commander a proof of his confidence in himself, and the

reasons, or grounds, of that confidence: "Si tu permittis, volo ego illi

belluae ostendere, quando adeo ferox praesultat hostium signis, me ex ea

familia ortum, quae Gallorum agmen ex rupe Tarpeia dejecit." If you will

permit me, I will show this brute, after he has vaunted a little longer,

in this braggart style, before the banners of the enemy, that I am sprung

from the family, that hurled the whole host of Gauls from the Tarpeian

rock.--And David said to Saul, let no man's heart fail because of him, thy

servant will go and fight with this Philistine. * * * * Thy servant kept

his father's sheep, and there came a lion and a bear, and took a lamb out

of the flock. And I went out after him, and delivered it out of his mouth;

and when he arose against me, I caught him, by his beard, and smote him

and slew him. Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear, and this

uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them.

The difference in their port and appearance may also be considered.

"Nequaquam visu ac specie aestimantibus pares. Corpus alteri magnitudine

eximium, versicolori veste, pictisque et auro caelatis refulgens armis;

media in altero militaris statura, modicaque in armis habilibus magis quam

decoris species." In size and appearance, there was no resemblance. The

frame of the Gaul was enormous. He wore a vest whose color was changeable,

and his refulgent arms were highly ornamented and studded with gold. The

Roman was of middle military stature, and his simple weapons were

calculated for service and not for show. Of Goliath we read--He had a

helmet of brass upon his head, and he was armed with a coat of mail. * * *

And he had greaves of brass upon his legs, and a target of brass between

his shoulders, and the staff of his spear was like a weaver's beam; and

David took his staff in his hand, and chose him five smooth stones out of

the brook, and put them in a shepherd's bag which he had, even in a scrip,

and his sling was in his hand. The General's consent is given to Titus

Manlius, in these words--"Perge et nomen Romanum invictum, juvantibus

diis, praesta." Go, and have a care, the gods assisting thee, that the

Roman name remains unconquered. And Saul said unto David, Go, and the

Lord be with thee. The Philistine and the Gaul were both speedily killed,

and here the parallel ends; for David hewed off the Philistine's head. The

Roman was more generous than the child of Israel--"Jacentis inde corpus,

ab omni alia vexatione intactum, uno torque spoliavit; quem, respersum

cruore, collo circumdedit suo." He despoiled the body of his fallen foe,

in no otherwise insulted, of a chain, which, bloody, as it was, he placed

around his own neck. I cannot turn from this gallant story, without

remarking, that this Titus Manlius must have been a terrible wag: Livy

says, that his young companions having prepared him for the duel--"armatum

adornatumque adversus Gallum stolide laetum, et (quoniam id quoque memoria

dignum antiquis visum est) linguam, etiam ab irrisu exscrentem,

producunt"--they brought him forward, armed and prepared for his conflict

with the Gaul, childishly delighted, and (since the ancients have thought

it worth repeating) waggishly thrusting his tongue out of his mouth, in

derision of his antagonist.

Doubtless, the challenge of Charles V. by Francis I., in which affair,

Charles, in the opinion of some folks, showed a little, if the cant phrase

be allowable, of the white feather, gave an impetus to the practice of

duelling. Doubtless, the _wager of battel_ supplied something of the form

and ceremony, the use of seconds, and measuring the lists, the signal of

onset, &c. of modern duels: but the principle was in the bosom of Adam,

and the practice is of the highest antiquity.

Woman, in some way or other, has been, very often, at the bottom of these

duels. Helen, as the chief occasion of the Trojan war, was, of course, the

cause of Hector's duel with Ajax, which duel, as the reader will see, by

turning to his Iliad, lib. viii. v. 279, was stopped, by the police, at

the very moment, when both gentlemen, having thrown their lances aside,

were drawing their long knives. Lavinia set Turnus and AEneas by the cars.

Turnus challenged him twice. Upon the first occasion, AEneas was unwell;

but, upon the second, they had a meeting, and he killed his man. David

would not have accepted Goliath's challenge, had not his heart been set

upon Saul's daughter, _and the shekels_. I find nothing of this, in the

commentators; but the reader may find it, in the Book of Nature, _passim_.

For one so young, David practised, with all the wariness of an old

bachelor. When he first arrived in camp, some one asked him, if he had

seen Goliath, and added, _and it shall be that the man who killeth him

the King will enrich him with great riches, and will give him his

daughter_. David had no idea of going upon a fool's errand; and, to make

matters sure, he turned to those about him, and inquired, clearly for

confirmation, _what shall be done to the man that killeth this

Philistine?_ And they repeated what he had heard before. David was a

discreet youth, for one of his time, the titman, as he was, of Jesse's

eight children--and, to avoid all chance of mistake, he walks off to

another person, near at hand, and repeats his inquiry, and receives a

similar answer. Sam. I. xvii. 30. A wide difference there is, between the

motives of Titus Manlius, in accepting the challenge of the Gaul, and

those of David, in accepting that of the Philistine--the love of country

and of glory in the first--in the last, the desire of possessing Saul's

daughter _and the shekels_.

Duels have been occasioned, by other Helens than her of Troy. A pleasant

tale is told, by Valvasor, in his work, _La Gloire de Duche de Carniole_,

Liv. ii. p. 634--of Andrew Eberhard Rauber, a German Knight, and Lord of

the fortress of Petronel. Maximilian II., Emperor of Germany, had a

natural daughter, Helen Scharseginn, of exquisite beauty, who had a brace

of gallant admirers, of whom Rauber was one--the other was a Spanish

gentleman, of high rank. Both were at the court of Maximilian, and in such

high favor, that the Emperor was extremely unwilling to disoblige either.

Upon the lifting of a finger, these gallants were ready to fight a score

of duels, for the lady's favor, in the most approved fashion of the day.

To this the Emperor was decidedly opposed; and, had they resorted to such

extremities, neither would have taken anything, by his motion. The Emperor

secretly preferred the German alliance, but was unwilling to offend the

Spaniard. He was young and of larger proportions, than his German rival;

but Rauber's prodigious strength had become a proverb, through the land.

He had the power of breaking horse-shoes with his thumbs and fingers; and,

upon one occasion, at Gratz, in the presence of the Archduke Charles,

according to Valvasor's account, he seized an insolent Jew, by his long

beard, and actually pulled his jaw off. He was a terrible antagonist, of

course.

Maximilian, heartily wearied with their incessant strife and importunity,

finally consented, that the question should be settled, by a duel, in

presence of the whole court. The hour was appointed, and the parties duly

notified. The terms of the conflict were to be announced, by the Emperor.

The day arrived. The Lords and Ladies of the Court were assembled, to

witness the combat; and the rivals presented themselves, with their

weapons, prepared to struggle manfully, for life and love.

The Emperor commanded the combatants to lay their rapiers aside, and each

was presented with a large bag or sack; and they were told, that whichever

should succeed, in putting the other into the sack, should be entitled to

the hand of the fair Helen Scharseginn.

Though, doubtless, greatly surprised, by this extraordinary announcement,

there appeared to be no alternative, and at it they went. After a

protracted struggle, amid shouts of laughter from the spectators, Rauber,

Lord of the fortress of Petronel, obtained the victory, bagged his bird,

and encased the haughty Spaniard in the sack, who, shortly after, departed

from the court of Maximilian.

Would to God, that all duels were as harmless, in their consequences. It

is not precisely so. When the gentleman, that does the murder, and the two

or more gentlemen, who aid and abet, have finished their handiwork, the

end is not yet--mother, wife, sisters, brothers, children are involuntary

parties--the iron, or the lead, which pierced that selfish heart, must

enter their very souls.

Where these encounters have proved fatal, the survivors, as I have stated,

have, occasionally, gone mad. It is not very common, to be sure, for duels

to produce such melancholy consequences, as those, which occurred, after

that, between Cameron and McLean, in 1722. McLean was killed. Upon

receiving the intelligence, his aged mother lost her reason, and closed

her days in a mad-house. The lady, to whom he was betrothed, expired in

convulsions, upon the third day, after the event--_n'importe!_

No. CXLIX.

It is quite unpleasant, after having diligently read a volume of memoirs,

or voyages, or travels, and carefully transferred a goodly number of

interesting items to one's common-place book--to discover, that the work,

_ab ovo usque ad mala_, is an ingenious tissue of deliberate lies. It is

no slight aggravation of this species of affliction, to reflect, that one

has highly commended the work, to some of his acquaintances, who are no

way remarkable, for their bowels of compassion, and whose intelligible

smile he is certain to encounter, when they first meet again, after the

_eclaircissement_.

There is very little of the _haec olim meminisse juvabit_, in store, for

those, who have been thus misled. If there had been, absolutely, no

foundation for the story, in the credulity of certain members of the Royal

Society, Butler would not, probably, have produced his pleasant account of

"_the elephant in the moon_." There were some very grave gentlemen, of

lawful age, who were inclined to receive, for sober truth, that

incomparable hoax, of which Sir John Herschell was represented, as the

hero.

Damberger's travels, in Africa, and his personal adventures there gave me

great pleasure, when I was a boy; and I remember to have felt excessively

indignant, when I discovered, that the work was written, in a garret, in

the city of Amsterdam, by a fellow who had never quitted Europe.

I never derived much pleasure or instruction, from Wraxall's memoirs of

the Kings of France of the race of Valois, nor from his tour through the

Southern Provinces, published in 1777. But his Historical memoirs of his

own time, prepared, somewhat after the manner of De Thou, and Bishop

Burnet, and extending from 1772 to 1784, I well remember to have read,

with very considerable pleasure, in 1816; and was pained to find them cut

up, however unmercifully, with so much irresistible justice, in the

Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews, and the British Critic. Mr. Wraxall made

matters immeasurably worse, by his defence. There could be no adequate

defence, for a man, who had asserted, that Lord Dorset told him an

anecdote, touching an event, _which event did not happen, till Lord Dorset

was dead_. A single instance of this kind, in a writer of common accuracy,

might be carried, in charity, to the debit of chance, or forgetfulness;

but the catalogue, presented by the reviewers, is truly overpowering. To

close the account, Sir N. W. Wraxall was, in May, 1816, convicted of a

libel, in these very memoirs, upon Count Woronzow, the Russian minister;

and Mr. Wraxall was imprisoned in Newgate, for that offence.

After this disqualification of my witness, I am, nevertheless, about to

vouch in Mr. Wraxall, by reciting one of his stories, in illustration of a

principle. I quote from memory--I have not the work--the reviewers

prevented me from buying it. June 16, 1743, the battle of Dettingen was

fought, and won, by George II. in person, and the Earl of Stair, against

the Marechal de Noailles and the Duke de Grammont. Mr. Wraxall

relates--_me memoria mea non fallente_--the following incident. After the

battle, the Earl gave a dinner, at his quarters; and, among the guests,

were several of the French prisoners of war. Of course, the Earl of Stair

presided, at one end of the table--at the other sat a gentleman, of very

common-place appearance, of small stature, thin and pale, evidently an

invalid, and who, unless addressed, scarcely opened his lips, during the

entertainment. This unobtrusive, and rather unprepossessing, young man was

the Lord Mark Kerr, the nephew, and the aid-de-camp of the Earl. After the

removal of the cloth, the gentlemen discussed the subject of the battle,

and the manoeuvres, by which the victory had been achieved. A difference

of opinion arose, between the Earl and one of the French Colonels, as to

the time of a particular movement. The latter became highly excited, and

very confident he was right. The Earl referred to Lord Mark Kerr, whose

position, at the time of that movement, rendered his decision conclusive.

Lord Mark politely assured the French Colonel, that he was mistaken; upon

which the Frenchman instantly insulted him, without saying a word, but in

that felicitous manner, which enables a Frenchman to convey an insult,

even by his mode of taking snuff. Soon after, the party broke up, and the

Earl of Stair was left alone. In about half an hour, Lord Mark Kerr

returned, and found his uncle very much disturbed.

"Nephew," said he, "you know my strong dislike of duelling. In our

situation we are sometimes, perhaps, unable to avoid it. The French

Colonel insulted you, at table; others noticed it, besides myself. I fear,

my dear nephew, you will have to ask him to apologize."

"I noticed it myself, my Lord," replied the Lord Mark; "you need have no

trouble, on that account--we have already met--I ran him through the body;

and they are now burying him, in the outer court."

Duels are often produced, by a foolish, and fatal misestimate, which one

man makes of another's temperament. The diminutive frame, the pale cheek,

and small voice, modest carriage, youth, and inexperience, afford no

certain indicia: _nimium ne crede colori_. Men of small stature, are

sometimes the more _brusque_, and more on the _qui vive_, from this very

circumstance.

Ingentes animos angusto in pectore volvunt.

That a man will not fight, like a dragon, simply because he has neither

the stature of Falstaff, nor the lungs of Bottom, is a well authenticated

_non sequitur_.

A well told, and well substantiated illustration of all this, may be

found, in Mackenzie's Life of Decatur, page 55. I refer to the case of

Joseph Bainbridge, who, in 1803, when a midshipman, and an inexperienced

boy, was purposely and wantonly insulted, at Malta, by a professed

duellist, the Secretary of Sir Alexander Ball, the Governor. No one can

read Mackenzie's Narrative, without a conviction, that Bainbridge owed the

preservation of his life, to the address of Decatur. They met--fired

twice, at four paces; and, at the second fire, the English duellist fell,

mortally wounded in the head: Bainbridge was untouched.

When I was a school boy, more than fifty years ago, I remember to have

read, in an English journal, whose name I have now forgotten, a story,

which may have been a fiction; but which was very naturally told, and made

a deep impression upon me then. I will endeavor to draw it forth from the

locker of my memory; and engage, beforehand, to be very much indebted to

any one, who will indicate its original source.

Three young gentlemen, who had finished the most substantial part of their

repast, were lingering over their fruit and wine, at an eating-house, in

London; when a man, of middle age, and middle stature, entered the public

room, where they were sitting; seated himself, at one end of a small,

unoccupied table; and, calling the waiter, ordered a simple mutton chop,

and a glass of ale. His appearance, at first view, was not likely to

arrest the attention of any one. His hair was getting to be thin and gray;

the expression of his countenance was sedate, with a slight touch,

perhaps, of melancholy; and he wore a gray surtout, with a standing

collar, which, manifestly, had seen service, if the wearer had not--just

such a thing, as an officer would bestow upon his serving man. He might be

taken for a country magistrate, or an attorney, of limited practice, or a

schoolmaster.

He continued to masticate his chop, and sip his ale, in silence, without

lifting his eyes from the table, until a melon seed, sportively snapped,

from between the thumb and finger of one of the gentlemen, at the opposite

table, struck him upon the right ear. His eye was instantly upon the

aggressor; and his ready intelligence gathered, from the illy suppressed

merriment of the party, that this petty impertinence was intentional.

The stranger stooped, and picked up the melon seed, and a scarcely

perceptible smile passed over his features, as he carefully wrapped up the

seed, in a piece of paper, and placed it in his pocket. This singular

procedure, with their preconceived impressions of their customer, somewhat

elevated, as they were, by the wine they had partaken, capsized their

gravity entirely, and a burst of irresistible laughter proceeded from the

group.

Unmoved by this rudeness, the stranger continued to finish his frugal

repast, in quiet, until another melon seed, from the same hand, struck

him, upon the right elbow. This also, to the infinite amusement of the

other party, he picked from the floor, and carefully deposited with the

first.

Amidst shouts of laughter, a third melon seed was, soon after, discharged,

which hit him, upon the left breast. This also he, very deliberately took

from the floor, and deposited with the other two.