f
the spectators carried him forthwith to the beach, and putting him into
a boat, conveyed him by sea to Antibes. The body of his antagonist was
denied Christian burial, as he died without absolution, and every body
allowed that his soul went to hell: but the gentlemen of the army
declared, that he died like a man of honour. Should a man be never so
well inclined to make atonement in a peaceable manner, for an insult
given in the heat of passion, or in the fury of intoxication, it cannot
be received. Even an involuntary trespass from ignorance, or absence of
mind, must be cleansed with blood. A certain noble lord, of our
country, when he was yet a commoner, on his travels, involved himself
in a dilemma of this sort, at the court of Lorrain. He had been riding
out, and strolling along a public walk, in a brown study, with his
horse-whip in his hand, perceived a caterpillar crawling on the back of
a marquis, who chanced to be before him. He never thought of the petit
maitre; but lifting up his whip, in order to kill the insect, laid it
across his shoulders with a crack, that alarmed all the company in the
walk. The marquis's sword was produced in a moment, and the aggressor
in great hazard of his life, as he had no weapon of defence. He was no
sooner waked from his reverie, than he begged pardon, and offered to
make all proper concessions for what he had done through mere
inadvertency. The marquis would have admitted his excuses, had there
been any precedent of such an affront being washed away without blood.
A conclave of honour was immediately assembled; and after long
disputes, they agreed, that an involuntary offence, especially from
such a kind of man, d'un tel homme, might be attoned by concessions.
That you may have some idea of the small beginning, from which many
gigantic quarrels arise, I shall recount one that lately happened at
Lyons, as I had it from the mouth of a person who was an ear and eye
witness of the transaction. Two Frenchmen, at a public ordinary,
stunned the rest of the company with their loquacity. At length, one of
them, with a supercilious air, asked the other's name. "I never tell my
name, (said he) but in a whisper." "You may have very good reasons for
keeping it secret," replied the first. "I will tell you," (resumed the
other): with these words he rose; and going round to him, pronounced,
loud enough to be heard by the whole company, "Je m'appelle Pierre
Paysan; et vous etes un impertinent."