CHAPTER XIII.
I would fight with broad swords, and sink point on the first blood drawnlike a gentleman's.--The Chronicles of the Canongate.
I strolled idly along the Palais Royal (which English people, in somesilly proverb, call the capital of Paris, whereas no French man ofany rank, nor French woman of any respectability, are ever seen in itspromenades) till, being somewhat curious to enter some of the smallercafes, I went into one of the meanest of them; took up a Journal desSpectacles, and called for some lemonade. At the next table to me sattwo or three Frenchmen, evidently of inferior rank, and talking veryloudly over L'Angleterre et les Anglois. Their attention was soon fixedupon me.
Have you ever observed that if people are disposed to think ill of you,nothing so soon determines them to do so as any act of yours, which,however innocent and inoffensive, differs from their ordinary habits andcustoms? No sooner had my lemonade made its appearance, than I perceivedan increased sensation among my neighbours of the next table. In thefirst place, lemonade is not much drank, as you may suppose, among theFrench in winter; and, in the second, my beverage had an appearance ofostentation, from being one of the dearest articles I could have calledfor. Unhappily, I dropped my newspaper--it fell under the Frenchmen'stable; instead of calling the garcon, I was foolish enough to stoopfor it myself. It was exactly under the feet of one of the Frenchmen; Iasked him with the greatest civility, to move: he made no reply. I couldnot, for the life of me, refrain from giving him a slight, very slightpush; the next moment he moved in good earnest; the whole party sprungup as he set the example. The offended leg gave three terrific stampsupon the ground, and I was immediately assailed by a whole volley ofunintelligible abuse. At that time I was very little accustomed toFrench vehemence, and perfectly unable to reply to the vituperations Ireceived.
Instead of answering them, I therefore deliberated what was best tobe done. If, thought I, I walk away, they will think me a coward, andinsult me in the streets; if I challenge them, I shall have to fightwith men probably no better than shopkeepers; if I strike this mostnoisy amongst them, he may be silenced, or he may demand satisfaction:if the former, well and good; if the latter, why I shall have a betterexcuse for fighting him than I should have now.
My resolution was therefore taken. I was never more free from passion inmy life, and it was, therefore, with the utmost calmness and composurethat, in the midst of my antagonist's harangue, I raised my handand--quietly knocked him down.
He rose in a moment. "Sortons," said he, in a low tone, "a Frenchmannever forgives a blow!"
At that moment, an Englishman, who had been sitting unnoticed in anobscure corner of the cafe, came up and took me aside.
"Sir," said he, "don't think of fighting the man; he is a tradesman inthe Rue St. Honore. I myself have seen him behind the counter; rememberthat 'a ram may kill a butcher.'"
"Sir," I replied, "I thank you a thousand times for your information.Fight, however, I must, and I'll give you, like the Irishman, my reasonsafterwards: perhaps you will be my second."
"With pleasure," said the Englishman, (a Frenchman would have said,"with pain!")
We left the cafe together. My countryman asked them if he should go thegunsmith's for the pistols.
"Pistols!" said the Frenchman's second: "we will only fight withswords."
"No, no," said my new friend. "'On ne prend le lievre au tabourin.' Weare the challenged, and therefore have the choice of weapons."
Luckily I overheard this dispute, and called to my second--"Swords orpistols," said I; "it is quite the same to me. I am not bad at either,only do make haste."
Swords, then, were chosen and soon procured. Frenchmen never grow coolupon their quarrels: and as it was a fine, clear, starlight night, wewent forthwith to the Bois de Boulogne. We fixed our ground on a spottolerably retired, and, I should think, pretty often frequented for thesame purpose. I was exceedingly confident, for I knew myself to have fewequals in the art of fencing; and I had all the advantage of coolness,which my hero was a great deal too much in earnest to possess. We joinedswords, and in a very few moments I discovered that my opponent's lifewas at my disposal.
"C'est bien," thought I; "for once I'll behave handsomely."
The Frenchman made a desperate lunge. I struck his sword from his hand,caught it instantly, and, presenting it to him again, said,
"I think myself peculiarly fortunate that I may now apologize for theaffront I have put upon you. Will you permit my sincerest apologies tosuffice? A man who can so well resent an injury, can forgive one."
Was there ever a Frenchman not taken by a fine phrase? My hero receivedthe sword with a low bow--the tears came into his eyes.
"Sir," said he, "you have twice conquered."
We left the spot with the greatest amity and affection, and re-entered,with a profusion of bows, our several fiacres.
"Let me," I said, when I found myself alone with my second, "let methank you most cordially for your assistance; and allow me to cultivatean acquaintance so singularly begun. I lodge at the Hotel de--, Rue deRivoli; my name is Pelham. Your's is--"
"Thornton," replied my countryman. "I will lose no time in profiting byan offer of acquaintance which does me so much honour."
With these and various other fine speeches, we employed the time till Iwas set down at my hotel; and my companion, drawing his cloak round him,departed on foot, to fulfil (he said, with a mysterious air) a certainassignation in the Faubourg St. Germain.
I said to Mr. Thornton, that I would give him many reasons for fightingafter I had fought. As I do not remember that I ever did, and as I amvery unwilling that they should be lost, I am now going to bestow themon the reader. It is true that I fought a tradesman. His rank in lifemade such an action perfectly gratuitous on my part, and to many peopleperhaps perfectly unpardonable. The following was, however, my view ofthe question: In striking him I had placed myself on his level; if I didso in order to insult him, I had a right also to do it in order to givehim the only atonement in my power: had the insult come solely fromhim, I might then, with some justice, have intrenched myself in mysuperiority of rank--contempt would have been as optional as revenge:but I had left myself no alternative in being the aggressor, for ifmy birth was to preserve me from redressing an injury, it was also topreserve me from committing one. I confess, that the thing would havebeen wholly different had it been an English, instead of a French, man;and this, because of the different view of the nature and importance ofthe affront, which the Englishman would take. No English tradesman hasan idea of les lois d'armes--a blow can be returned, or it can be paidfor.
But in France, neither a set-to, nor an action for assault, would repaythe generality of any class removed from the poverty of the bas peuple,for so great and inexcusable an affront. In all countries it is thefeelings of the generality of people, that courtesy, which is theessence of honour, obliges one to consult. As in England I should,therefore, have paid, so in France I fought.
If it be said that a French gentleman would not have been equallycondescending to a French tradesman, I answer that the former wouldnever have perpetrated the only insult for which the latter might thinkthere could be only one atonement. Besides, even if this objectionheld good, there is a difference between the duties of a native and astranger. In receiving the advantages of a foreign country, one oughtto be doubly careful not to give offence, and it is therefore doublyincumbent upon us to redress it when given. To the feelings of theperson I had offended, there was but one redress. Who can blame me if Igranted it?