Newspaper Page Text
No. 30. Vol. IV.
r DUELLING, .
From, (he Calcutta Journal.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN A BRAHMIN
AND AN ENGLISHMAN.
{Concluded from our last.)
Brahmin. —But dught you not to Joy more
of the biamfe on the pnblick, since to please
them, to stand well in their eyes, is not on
ly the principal, but, in general, the only
overpowering motive with Gentlemen on
such occasions? The publick are the real
/actors in the transaction, or rather the au
dience for whose satisfaction the parties do
the utmost violence to their own con
sciences ; and when they weep over the
fate of a Hamilton, or a Scott, they have
no more right to mix complaint and regret
with their grief, than when a Montgomery,
a Wolf, or a Nelson dies for his conhtry
boo adds a page of glory to its history more
valuable than the life which is given for it.
If the flame of the Beacon had been quench
ed in the blood of Sir Walter Scott, your
country would have merited such a blow
and such a stain, and will deserve similar
visitations, until it shall be made manifest,
that under any circumstances a duel is a
certain means, not of preserving, hot of ir
recoverably forfeiting the publick favour
and esteem. Among Hindoos the institu
tion of casts presents bar-iersto the influence
of fashion , though it is not altogether un
felt; but with you it is omnipotent; and,
therefore, most justly ddes your Addison
eay, “ Fortune is so much the pursuit of
mankind, that all glory and honour is in the
power of a Prince, because he has the dis
tribution of their fortunes. It is therefore
the inadvertency, negligence, or guilt of
Princes, to let any thing grow into custom
which is against their lat Vs. A Court can
make fashion and duty walk together; it
can never ‘without the guilt of a Courts happen
that it shall not be unfashionable to do what is
unlawful .” But what is the present sta'e
of the law ? what remedy would you ad
vise ?
Englishman.— -The present state of the
law is full of chicane, and utterly nugaiory.
There is, iu fact, no law adapted to the
subject, and really executed. “ Express
malice,” says Blackstone, “ is when one.
■with a sedate deliberate mind and formed de
sign, doth kill another; which formed design
is evidenced by external circumstances dis
covering that inward intention; as lying
in wait, antecedent menaces, former grudg
es, and concerted schemes to do him some
bodily harm. This lakes in the case of delib
erate duelling where both parties meet avow
edly with an intent to murder; thinking it
their doty, as Gentlemen, and claiming it
s their right to wanton with their own
lives and those of their fellow-creatures;
without any warrant or authority from any
power either Divine or human, but in di
rect contradiction to the laws both of God
and man ; and therefore the Law has justly
fixed the crime and punishment of murder, on
them, and on their seconds, also.” It is in
vain that Blackstone and “ the Law” at
tempt to confound things essentially differ
ent. , The Duellist does not form a deliber
ate design of killing his opponent, but only
of. exposing him, with his own consent, tc
the risk of being killed. To “ wanton iyith
their own lives;” and to entertain a “ form
ed design” of taking by force or surprise
the life .of another, with or without hazard
of their own, are offences, which the com
mon sense of mankind recognizes as differ
ent Doth in kind and in degree; and there
fore it has been only nominally that the law
has ever been able to fix the crime of mur
der op the Duellist. No Judge, nor Coun
sel, fras ever been able to support the rea
soning of the law on this subject without
involving himself in sophistry, which cannot
hut add to the suspicion of his sincerity.
Take the following as a specimen For
.irgnment sake then,” said Mr. Horne,
Counsel for the crown on the trial of Mr.
Burbot, “grant what is supposed, that the
duel was ft In and see how reconcileable
this opinion is to reason, or how justifiable
by the laws. Alas! how is the name of
honour prostituted! Can honour he the sav
age resolution, the brutal fierceness of a re
vengeful spirit ? No, gentlemen of the ju
ry, search your own bosoms, and there
you’ll find that troe honour is manifested in
steady, uniform train of action, attended
by justice, and directed by prudence. Is
■this the conduct of the duellist? Will jus
tice support the duellist (and in the present
case, the prisoner, if be be fouod guilty) in
robbing the community of an able and use
ful member, and in depriving the poor of a
benefactor? will it support him in prepar
ing affliction for the Widow’s heart ? in fil
ling the orphan’s eyes with tears, and in
twinging sorrow and misfortune on friends,
and a numerous train of dependents ? Will
justice acquit him for enlarging the punish
mfnt beyond the offence ? Will it permit
him, for, perhaps, a rash word that may
admit of apology, an unadvised action that
may be retrieved, or an injury that may be
compensated, to cut off a man before his
days be half numbered, and for a tempora
ry fault inflict an endless punishment ? On
the other hand, will pradence bear him out
in risking an infamous death, if be succeeds
in the duel ? But if he falls will it plead
his pardon at a more awful tribunal, for
THE MISSIONARY.
rushing into the presence of an oflimled
God, with all biaimperfections on his head ?
View the duellist in the fight that either re
ligion or the law considers him, and you’ll
quickly perceive and acknowledge the ille
gality, the impiety of his spirit. Man, like
the ccntinel fixed to his post, who dares not
stir till he is relieved; man, I say, must
wait till death, natural death, the grand re
lief of hnman nature, shall discharge him;
nor can he prodigally throw away a life
bestowed for better purposes. The Giver,
the Preserver of life must be displeased
with him who usurp.,a power to cast away
his own, or take away his fellow creature’s.
Man is made in the express image of his
Maker. Shall the duellist, with impunity,
in the person of his fellow creature, destroy
that image in impious disobedience to that
command which bid us not to kill?”
If-all this had been addressed to a legis
lative assembly in support of a projected
law against Duelling, it would have been
just, forcible, and highly honourable to the
speaker; but when urged for the purpose
of blinding a jury by exciting a temporary
fever of indignation against an unfortunate
prisoner, and of drawing down a capital
punishment on him for a crime which he
was driven to commit by the prejudices
cherished by the Orator himself, by the
Jury, and by the Judges on the bench ; a
crime which each of them at one period of
life would have been equally ready to per
petrate if accident had thrown him into
similar circumstances,—it is a monstrous
and detestable fraud. He says, “ will it
permit him for a rash word that may admit
of apology,” &c. but in this case the de
ceased refused to make that apology, so
deeply was he imbued with that species of
honour, which, as an attribute of the prison
er, the Orator had characterized as “ the
savage resolution, the brutal fierceness of a
revengeful spirit,” but which lost all its
odiousness, and more than half its evil when
connected with the character and act of’
the deceased. “ Senseless as this notion of
honour is,” says Mr. Horne, “ it unhappily
had its advocates among us. But for the
prevalence of such a notion, how could the
amiable person, whose death has made the
solemn business of this day, be lost to his
country, his family and friends ? Would to
God that | wa9 a master of words, and it
could be indulged to the’ tenderness of a
friend to pay a tribute to h memory ! I
might then endeavour to set him full before
you in the variety of his excellence; bui
as this, perhaps would be venturing too
far, I can only lament that such virtue had
not a longer date; that this good man was
cut off in the strength of his age, ere half
his glass was run; when his large heart
was projecting and executing schemes to
relieve distress, and by the mo9t surprizing
acts of beneficence, vindicating the bounty
of Providence for heaping wealth upon
him.” This amiable, this good man, was a
Duellist! But all his virtues, his variety
of excellence, and plenitude of benevolence,
are thus displayed in the warmest coloring,
not for the purpose of extenuating the
weakness of the prisoner in yielding to the
same false and pernicious notions which had
actuated the deceased, but of aggravating
the offence of the former in exposing so
much virtue to the hazard which he him
self courted and demanded!
Mr. Justice Bulled said in his charge to
the jfiry on the trial of the Reverend Bennet
Allen for the murder of Lloyd Dnlany in a
duel, June 18, 1782, (surely this is the only
instance of a clergyman fighting a duel!)
u Sitting here, it is my duty to tell you
What the law is, which I have done in ex
plicit terms : and we most not suffer it to
to be frittered away by any false or fantasti
cal notions of honour.” The Judge who
addresses such language to a jury ought to
be well satisfied that he had not suffered
his own sense of the rigor of the law to be
frittered away, and that he had uniformly
•and zealously in all sincerity and frankness
exerted himself to exorcise the evil spirit,
and shame it out of the world. The jury
ought to examine themselves with the same
severity, for until each man reforms his
own heart, the appeal made by Captain
Macnamara to the Jury who tried him in
1803, must be irresistible. “I declare,”
said he, “ most solemnly, that I went into
the field from no resentment against the
deceased, (Colonel Montgomery,) nothing,
indeed, but insanity could have led me to
expose my own life to such imminent peril,
under the impalse of passion from so inade
quate a cause as the evidence before you
exhibits, when separated from the defiance
which was the fatal source of mischief: and
I could well have overlooked that too, if the
world in its present state could have overlook
ed it also. I went into the field, therefore,
withmo determination or desire to take the
life of my opponent, or to expose my own.
I went there in hopes of receiving some
soothing satisfaction for what would other
wise have exposed me in the general feelings
and opinions of the world.
Take another specimen of legal so
phistry.
“ Some able writers have holden, that
the Second of the person killed is equally
guilty, in respect of that aid, and counte
nance which he gives to the Principals in
the execution of their mutual purpose; but
it seems, (say3 Serjeqqt Hawkins) too se
MOUNT ZION, (HANCOCK COUNTY, GEORGIA,) MONDAY, JANUARY 6, 1823
CO YE INTO ALL THE WORLD AND PR fICH THE (JOSPEL TO EVERY CREATPP.It.
vere a construction to make a tnan by such
reasoning the murderer of hit friend, to
whotn he was so far from mis
chief, that he was ready to hazardlhis own
life in the quarrel.” The objeclim of Ser
jeant Hawkifts is deduced from ptnciples
with which he ought to have combatted the
severityof the not of the contraction
in question, which is perfectly just md una
voidable. But he admits the reasonable
ness of the law, and then seeks to establish
a difference in guilt between the S.r.ond of
the person killed, and the other Principal
and his Second, which neither accords with
law, nor reason. In the eye of reaion, un
doubtedly, the Seconds and the Principals,
whatever be the event, are equally guilty,
for they all concur in one criminal design,
in one impious purpose. A just taw would
leave no room for the (Tightest scruple in
seeing the same penalty exacted from the
Seconds as from the Pr lcipals.
Id the administration f the law of Eng
land we see that a murttrer never escapes
by the lenity of the juts, nor of the Court,
nor of the Crown, becaise such rigor is in
unison with thepnblik sense of justice;
but only two or three|case9 can be cited
where the Law has be|n allowed to run its
course against Duellists, and these have
been condemned as of extreme
hardship and injustice/ Such was the case
ofJohnßarbot who ivas executed at the
Island of St. Christopher in 1753; of Major
Oneby, in 1726, who Would certainly have
been executed, if he had not killed himself
the night before; and of Maj. Campbell
who wa9 executed in Ireland in 1811. The
ill effect of not allowing a Prisoner’s Coun
sel to speak to matter of fact as well as of
law, as is allowed by the law of Scotland,
was felt in all these cases. Maj. Oneby
and Mr. Gower fought with swords, and
the former received three wounds. Mr.
Barbot’s defence was misdirected to dis
prove the fact, instead of being directed to
shew the manner of it. His own declara
tions and comments on the unfavourable
opinion of the Surgeon would have been
all that he could have offered to the jury
on the latter point: because though the
duel Was fought in the presence of two Ne
gro Slaves, they were not legal witnesses,
and yet the hearsay evidence of one of
them as to the fact of killing, was insisted
on by the Counsel for the Crown.
In the case of Major CarttpWplt it is cer
tain that the deceased, Captain Boyd, ac
knowledged that he bad said, he was ready,
and that they both fired at the same time;’
and it appears that the “hurrying” was oc
casioned hy the gross and repeated defian
ces of the deceased, who was a man of
rough manners, and of an unreasonable,
quarrelsome and violent temper.
It results from the case of Duelling beiDg
left to be included within the letter of laws
directed against other offences, that one
fought with pistols, though no injury hap
pen, is a capital crime, being comprehend
ed within the 9th George 1. c. 22. which
makes wilful and malicious shooting at a
person, a capital felony; while those who
fight with swords are only answerable to
the extent of their superiority iu the art of
fencing!
Brahmin.—l am quite satisfied, that such
laws are worse than none at all; but now
for your remedy.
Englishman. —l shall first notice those
which have been proposed by others.
Blackstone says, “ yet it require? such a
degree of passive valour, to combat the
dread of even undeserved contempt, arising
from the false notion of honour too generally
received in Europe, that the strongest pro
hibitions and penalties of the law will nev
er be entirely effectual to eradicate this un
happy custom; till a method be found out of
compelling the original aggressor to make
some other satisfaction to the affronted parly ,
which the world shall esteem equally reputable
as that which is now given at the hazard of
the life and fortune, as well of the person
insulted, as of him who bath given the in
sult.” Bentham has adopted this proposi
tion, and reduced it to a more precise form
{Traite de legislation, 111. 42. ) aud Paley in
sinuates something to the same purpose;
but it appears to me to be not only imprac
ticable, od account of the complexity of the
quarrels that occur, wheD, after various
reciprocations of offence, he who was the
“original aggressor” ends by being the
“ affronted party,’*> but to be founded on a
recognition of those very prejudices which
are the source of the evil, and which would
necessarily defeat the operation of the pro
posed law. According to the principles on
which such a law would proceed, the
wounded honour of a Genlleman-could re
ceive no balm from any kind of satisfaction
for which he was indebted to the arm of the
law, and the insolence of superiority would
still glow on the brow of the vanquished
victor, even in the moment when he was
making compulsory amends. The most re
fined satisfaction that could be devised
would utterly lose its virtue under such cir
cumstances.
The remedy that I would propose is bor
rowed from the Spectator, No. 97, and has,
I believe, been adopted in one of the North
American States. It is, in addition to all
moral and religious appliances, to make the
subscribing a solemn engagement never to be
Principal nor Second in a I>ad. a condition
of holding any office under Government, and
the forfeiture of office invariably consequent
on the violation of the engagement. This ar
rangement implies n complete renuncia
tion of the favourite vice, an extinction of
the prejudices in which the mischief origin
ates. When it had thus been expelled from
the highest class, it could not linger long
among the lower; there would be infinite
ly less temptation, and more force of Opin
ion to discountenance and repress it. Insult
that now triumphs in its brute violence,
whether used as an offensive or defensive
weapon, would then lose its sting; it would
appear In its own deformity; and the same
standard of right and wrong, derived from
reason and religion, which is now applied
to some parts of conduct sod mantiersj’ would
then be applied to all. Courage would not;
be tried where it was liable to be overshad-
owed by (he compuactions and misgivings
of conscience, but only where its impulse
was supported, ennobled, and outgone by
those generous affections of which a good
cause ooly can be the object. Such a
cause is not always found in a publick quar
rel ; in a private one, never. “ The blood
of man should never be shed but to redeem
the blood of man.—lt is well shed for our
family, for our friends, for our God, for our
country, for our kind. The rest is vanity ;
the rest is crime.”
Brahmin. —Your plan is Simple, effica
cious, easily executed; and I cannot suffi
ciently express my wonder that no member
of either House of Parliament has ever made
a single effort to attain so great an object.
He whose efforts should be crowned with
success, might sing Nunc dimittis ? But the
abolition of Suttees is as much more attaina
ble, as it makes a more pressing demand od
humanity. For one of your countrymen
who falls io a duel, thousands of my coun
try-women, some in the bloom of youth,
some in the last stage of decrepitude, are
burnt to death ! These unnatural immola
tions are not done in a corner, early io the
morning or late in the evening; but near
the highways, and by noon day; and it is
only necessary to interpose a preventive force ,
and to enact a penalty against all who shall
perpetrate such an act in spite of the vigilance
of the police. If Hindoos who worship
Brahmins would not stir to rescue one from
the gallows, would they rise to enforce (be
crael destruction of a poor woman ? No !
Whenever the agents in these abominations
have been interrupted, they have submit
ted as to an exercise of authority, whose
‘beneficence a revulsion of natural feeling
immediately compelled them to acknowl
edge. And yet our rulers will not pro
nounce the decisive word. But Ido not
despair. What might have been done many
years ago,will be done notmany years heuce.
Biographical.
JOHN, EARL OF ROCHESTER.
An illustrious and instructive instance of
the power of religion on the mind, in the
time of sickness and death, is John, Earl of
Rochester. He was the descendant of a
great family, of a liberal education, and of
great personal accomplishments, in shoit, as
it is judiciously expressed of him, “he was
a very great man every way; a great wit ;
a greai scholar; a great poet; a great sin
ner, and a great penitent.”
Such he is described to be by (wo emi
nent men, who personally knew him, and
attended him id his last sickness. In this
instance, God has shown the richness of His
mercy, to save one, who seemed to have
made a covenant with death, & to be at an
agreement with hell. His case appears to
be somewhat similar to that of (be Apostle
Paul, who, though before a blasphemer, a
persecutor, and injurious, yet obtained mer
cy, that in him Christ Jesus might show
forth all long-suffering, for a pattern to
them that should hereafter believe on him
to everlasting life.—l Tim. 1, 13, 16. He
was, as it were, struck to the ground, by a
light from heaven, and a voice Os thunder
round übout him ; insomuch, that now the
scales fell from his eyes, as they once did
from Paul’s; his stony heart was opened,
and streams of tears gushed out, the. bitter,
but wholesome, tears of true repentance,
He had advanced to an uncommon height
of impiety, having been an advocate in the
black cause of atheism. He had raked too
in the very bottom of the jakes of debauch
ery, and had been ft satirist against virtue.
But when, like the prodigal in the gospel,
he came to himself, great borrour filled his
mind, and forced sharp and bitter invectives
from him, against himself; terming himself
(he vilest wretch that ever the sun shone
upon; wishing he had been a beggar, a
link boy, or a crawling leper in a ditch, or
had lived in a dungeon, rather than have
offended the Lord, as he had done.
Being at one time under great trouble of
mind, and his conscience full of terrour, he
told the person who attended him, that,
“ when on his journey, be bad been argu
ing with greater vigour against God and re
ligion, than he had ever done in his life
time before, and that he resolved to run
them dowo, with all the arguments and.
spite in the world; but like the great con
vert, Paul, he found it hard to kick against
God For bis heart was at tbat time struck
so powerfully, that he argued as much for
Price $&& W- ftmi - or > l
i $3,00 iu ad’-auce. >
God and virtue, as ever lie had done again#
them.
He had such tremendous apprehensions
of the Divine Majesty, mingled with *uch
delightful contemplations of his nature and
perfections, and of the amiablenes3 of reli
gion, that he said, “I never was advanced
thus far towards happiness in my life be
fore, though, upon the commission of some j
sins extraordinary, I have had some checks
and warnings considerable from within;,
but 1 still struggled with them, and so wore
them off again. One day at an atheistical
meeting, at the house of a person of qonlrv
ty, 1 undertook to manage the cause, and
was the principal disputant against God and
piety; and, for my performances, received
the applause of the whole company. Upon
Which my uiinJ was terribly struck, and I
immediately replied thus to myself,—
“Good God! that a man who walks upright,
who sees the wonderful works of God, and
ha 9 the use of his senses aud reason, should
use them to the defying of his Creator!”
But, though this was a good beginning to
wards my conversion, to find my conscience
touched for my sins, yet it went off again ;
nay, all my life long, I had a secret value
and reverence for an honest man, and loved
morality in others. But 1 had formed to
myself an odd scheme of religion, which
would solve all that God r or conscience’
could force upon me; yet 1 was not ever
well reconciled to the business of Christian
ity, nor had that reverence for the gospel
of Christ, which I ought to have had.”
This state of mind continued till the 23d
chapter of Isaiah was read to him, together
with some other parts of the sacred Scrip
tures ; when it pleased God to fill his mind
with such peace and joy in believing, that it
was remarkable to all about him. And be
frequently desired those who were with
him, to read the 53d of Isaiah to him, upon
which he used to descant in a very affec
tionate paraphrase, applying the weighty
sentences thereof to his own humiliation
and comfort.
“ Oh! blessed God! can such a horrid
creature as I am, be accepted by thee, who
have denied thy Being and contemned thy
power ? Can there be mercy and pardon
for me ? Will God own such a wretch as I?”
And in the middle of his sickness he said
—“ Shall the unspeakable joys of Heaven
be conferred on me? Oh! mighty Saviour !
never, but through thine infinite toyt and
satisfaction! O never, but by the purchase
of thy blood!” adding tbat, —“ with at! ab
horrence he did reflect upon his former
life; that sincerely and from his heart, he
repented of all that folly and madness which
he had committed.”
His faith was strong and cordial in em
bracing the Christian Religion; and lie
justly condemned that —“ foolish and ab
surd philosophy, which the world so much
admired, propagated by the iatc Hobbes
and others, which had undone him and ma
ny more, of the best parts, iu the nation.
His confidence rested ajone on Christ for
salvation, and therefore appeared to be of
the right kind. He woold often intrant
God, “to strengthen his faith,” crying out,
“Lord 1 believe! help mine unbelies!”
He had a growing esteem for the Holy
Scriptures, and eviJeully saw their divine
usefulness and excellency “ For having
spoken to his heart, he acknowledged that
all the eceming absurdities and contradic
tions formed by men of corrupt and repro*-
bate judgments, were vanished; and (Sat
their excellency and beauty appeared, be-’
ing come to receive the truth in the love
of it.”
Satan, the grand adversary of pools, used
to assault him with many temptations aud
evil suggestions, aud many thiogs prejudi
cial to tbat religious temper of mind with
which God had now endued him. One
night especially, the tempter made no little
use of his fiery darts, by casting upon him
lewd and wicked imaginations: but “ thank
God,” said he, “ I abhor them all, and by
the power of his grace, which I am sure is
sufficient for me, I have overcome them.
It is the malice of the devil, because I am
rescued from him ; and it is the goodness of
God that frees me from all my spiritual en
emies.”
There are many proofs of the sincerity
of his faith, and (he soundness of his repent
ance; among others, l shall single out those
that follow.
His hearty concern for the pious educa
tion of his children; “ wishing that his son
might never be a wit, —as he explained it,
one of those wretched creatures, who pride
themselves in ridiculing God and religion,
denying his being or his Providence: but.
that he might become an honest man, and
of a truly religious character, which could
only lie the support and blessing of his
family.”
He left a strict charge to the persons in
whose custody his papers were, “to bura
all his profane and lewd writings, as being
only fit to promote vice and immorality, by
which he had so highly offended, and sham
ed, and blasphemed, that holy religion into
which lie had been baptized, and all bis üb
sceoe and filthy pictures, whicb were so no
toriously scandalous. ‘ s
He protested, “ ho would net commit ft
knowt) sin to gain a kingdom,!” and sent
•awful message* to his companions in in;-