4. A Duel of 1807 (4)
The End of the Detestable Affair
Now seconds, as both knew, would almost certainly have stopped the whole matter, and the “if you wish for it” was a hint that Boyd might be ready to shirk a fight. Thus driven into a corner, the unfortunate captain said that it was all one to him whether they had seconds or no, and that he was ready whenever Campbell pleased. The answer was “here and now”—they went into opposite corners of the small room. Campbell asked who should give the signal to fire. “I don’t care a damn who gives it; you may give it if you please”, said Boyd. “Ready!” and “Fire!” followed immediately. Boyd’s ball struck the wall not far from Campbell’s head: Campbell’s ball took Boyd in the chest.
The report of the pistols brought officers and mess-waiters in from the next room: they saw Campbell lifting Boyd, who was bleeding badly, into a chair. On the appearance of the crowd Campbell said, “On the word of a dying man, was not everything fair?” The reply was given differently by different witnesses at the subsequent trial. According to one version it was “Campbell, you are a bad man; you know that I wanted to wait, and to have friends”; according to the other, “Campbell, you are a bad man, you hurried me”. Upon this the major burst out with “Good God, sir! you will not say before these gentlemen that everything was fair: did you not say that you were ready?” “Yes,” said Boyd, “but you are a bad man.” After a pause he gave Campbell his hand and said, “Campbell, I feel for you, and I am sure that you feel for me”, and then “Poor man, I am sorry for him”. He became unconscious, and died within eighteen hours.
So ended this detestable affair—a trivial dispute led to the use of words which two excited and captious officers twisted into taunts that raised the point of personal honour. Public opinion was decidedly against Campbell; it was he, men said, who had made a serious business out of a silly mess-table wrangle, who had insisted on an irregular duel without seconds, who had waylaid Boyd and taunted him into fighting at a moment’s notice. Realizing the situation at once, he disappeared, and was not heard of for many months. Hence the long delay in his trial, which did not take place till August 1808, thirteen months after the duel. He was unlucky enough to be recognized and arrested in Scotland, from whence he was sent back to Armagh. Of what had happened between the first dispute over the wine, and Campbell’s reappearance with his pistols at the barracks, there was no one who could speak, since no one had been present either at the altercation on the stairs or at the actual duel.
The major’s own lips were sealed by the criminal procedure of those days. The Grand Jury sent him to trial, the petty Jury found him guilty, but added a recommendation to mercy. This was refused by the personal decision of the King, as we are told: George III hated duelling, and regarded this as a typically bad case, one which allowed a long-needed example to be made at last, for the benefit of all officers inclined to waste the lives, which they owed to their country, in drunken brawls.
The sentence of the law was carried out—to the general surprise; duellists were not hanged in those days—even the notorious Major Oneby had escaped his sentence by suicide. Campbell showed every sign of contrition, owned the folly and wickedness of duelling, and made a most edifying and religious end, after receiving the Sacrament. Yet he never seems to have realized that his offence had been against anything but the terms of the law and the dictates of Christianity. In his dying confession he describes himself as “one more unfortunate than wicked—hurried on to this much-to-be-lamented catastrophe by insults past endurance”.
The mentality of 1807 is sometimes difficult to understand!
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