The Camden Journal

ON THE SIN OF DUELING AND
THE FORCE OF CONSCIENCE

An eminent and highly respectable
Minister of the Gospel, now living, was
some years since, travelling between Ed-
inburgh and London, on board a Leith
Smack. A young officer, of preposses-
sing appearance, was a fellow traveller.
He had been to Scotland upon leave of
absence, to visit his friends; he was now
returning to England in order to join his
regiment, which was in Sicily. There
was something in his countenance, es-
pecially of a morning, which, in spite of
his youth and assumed hilarity, seemed to
bespeak inward dejection and sorrow.-
He looked haggard, shunned company,
and gave a hurried and abrupt reply to all
questions which his fellow passengers oc-
casionally put to him.

On Sunday morning, the Christian
Minister mentioned above, proposed to
the passengers and captain to have wor-
ship in the cabin, and offered to preach to
them, if they would favor him with their
attention. The officer in question made
no objection, but shortly after the propo-
sal had been made and accepted by the
passengers, he secretly retired into his
berth, and drew the sliding pannel which
hid him from the company. There he
remained unnoticed during the whole of
the service. For three nights successively
after this sermon, the officer alarmed the
rest of the passengers by vociferating in
his sleep, "Kill the captain! kill the cap-
tain! his blood is upon me! his blood is
upon me!" On being spoken to, respec-
ting the alarm he had occasioned, he sta-
ted with great agitation and distress of
mind, though with evident reluctance,
that he had once fought a duel with a
brother officer. that he had killed his an-
tagonist, and had ever since been a most
miserable and unhappy man. So in-
tense was his alarm. that he actually tied
one of his legs with a cord to the cabin
table, and in that situation passed the re-
maining nights of the voyage, under the
apprehension that he might, in the terror
of his dreams, rush from his bed and leap
overboard. It was observed that he ne-
ver grew cheerful except when under the
influence of liquor. At all other times
his painful reflections seemed to embitter
all social intercourse. and to deprive him
of all pleasure in the objects around him.
He did not hesitate to declare frankly to
those who drew him into conversation,
that he fully expected sooner or later, if
on land, to jump out of the window--or,
at sea, to leap overboard. It was evident
that his uneasiness and terror arose from
the rash act into which he had been be-
trayed, in a moment of irritation. Could
he have foreseen the injury he was about
to inflict upon another, and the misery to
which he would expose himself. he would
have shrunk with horror from the awful
crime of fighting a duel.

His case suggests a highly valuable les-
son to young men of high honor and of
great spirit. Let them learn to rever-
ence above all things--above their own
supposed honor--the sacred precepts of
religion and morality. Many of this de-
scription expose themselves to temptations
and dangers, from which they can hardly
escape, by cherishing. a passion, often a
thoughtless or reckless passion, for naval
or military life. They can hardly expect
to pass through the scenes incident to such
a course, without at some time or other
being goaded into duelling. The law of
honor, they will hear it said, and said by
authority which they can scarcely resist,
imperatively demands it. Here then, is
a peculiar predicament into which they
may be thrown, and from which they
will rarely escape with a clear and peace-
ful conscience. They will be pressed by
the alternative either of losing their soul
or of losing their honor. Wine and mirth
will engender a quarrel, murder or dis-
grace must end it. Whether they kill or
die, they have committed murder. If
they kill, they have murdered another:
if they die, they have murdered themselves.
Suppose one survive, there is the torment
of conscience. and infinite evil inflicted
upon another for a trivial offence. If both
escape, yet both mean to kill, and the
guilt of the intention remains. Who then
is the man of courage? He that draws
the sword or points the pistol against the
breast of a trivial offender. and in the
face of his Maker's commands--he who
has become the slave of his own pride. or
his own honor? Assuredly not! but he
who professes magnanimity enough to:
pardon an offence, beneficence enough to
do good to an enemy, manliness enough
to obey the command of his Maker. Col.
Gardiner, when challenged to fight a duel,
said, "I am not afraid to fight, but I am
afraid to sin."