CHAPTER TEN.
PLUCK.
"Aunt," said Walter, as he sat at her feet, where he had placed himselfafter resigning his laurels, "I am afraid you are a little hard toplease--or, at any rate, that I haven't much chance of getting you tosee any moral courage in my unworthy self."
"Why not, dear boy?" she asked; "why should not you exhibit moralcourage as well as any one else?"
"Oh, I don't know exactly; but it's so hard to know precisely what moralcourage is after all, there are so many things that it is not. Now,what do you say to `pluck,' auntie; is `pluck' the same as moralcourage?"
"That depends upon what you mean by `pluck,' Walter."
"Oh! you must admire pluck. Every true-born Englishman and Englishwomanadmires pluck."
"That may be, my clear nephew. I believe I do admire pluck, as far as Iunderstand what it is. But you must give me your idea of it, that I maybe able to answer your question about its being the same as moralcourage."
"Well, dear aunt, it is a thoroughly English, or perhaps I ought to sayBritish, thing, you know. It isn't mere brute courage. It will keep aman who has it going steadily on with what he has undertaken. There isa great deal of self-denial, and perseverance, and steady effort aboutit. Persons of high refinement, and of very little physical strength,often show great pluck. It is by no means mere dash. There are pluckywomen too--plucky ladies also as well as plucky men. Indeed I thinkthat, as a rule, there is more true pluck among the weak than thestrong, among the refined than the coarse-grained. Thus you will findhigh-bred officers show more pluck and sustained endurance in sieges andfatigue parties than most of the common soldiers; and so it is withtravellers through difficult unexplored countries. Those who have hadthe least of rough training at home, but have given their mind morethoroughly to the work, will hold out and hold on pluckily when the bigfellows with limbs and muscles like giants give in and knock up. It'spluck that carries them through. Now, isn't that pretty much the sameas moral courage?"
"Hardly, I think, my dear boy."
"Well, where's the difference?"
"I think the difference lies in this, that, if I understand rightly whatyou mean, and what I suppose is commonly meant by pluck, it may befound, and often is found, where there is no moral element in it atall."
"I don't quite see it, auntie."
"Do you not? then I must go to examples to show what I mean. I heardyou tell a story the other day at breakfast of what you called a very`plucky' thing on the part of your friend Saunders."
"What! the fight he had with some bargees? Oh yes, I remember."
"Now, Walter, what were the circumstances of that fight?"
"Ah, I remember; and I think I see what you are driving at, Aunt Kate.Saunders, who is only a slightly-built fellow, and almost as thin as awhipping post, got into a row with some of those canal men; he wantedthem to turn out of his way, or to let him pass and go through a lockbefore them, and they wouldn't."
"And did he ask them civilly?"
"Nay, Aunt Kate, not he. No, I'm sorry to say he swore at them; forhe's a very hasty fellow with his tongue is Saunders."
"And were the bargemen unreasonably hindering him?"
"I can't say that. They were just going into the lock when he rowed up,and he wanted them to get out of his way and let him go into the lockfirst. I don't think myself that he was right."
"And what happened then?"
"Oh, he abused them, and they wanted to throw him into the canal; atleast they threatened to do so. And then he challenged the biggest ofthem to a stand-up fight, and a ring was made and they fought; andcertainly it was a strange thing to see Saunders, with his bare armslooking no thicker than a hop-pole, tackling that great fellow, whoseright arm was nearly as thick as Saunders's body. Nevertheless,Saunders didn't shrink; he stood up to the bargee, and, being a capitalboxer, he managed to win the day, and to leave the man he was fightingwith nearly blind with two swollen black eyes. And every one said what`pluck' little Saunders showed."
"Had the bargeman a wife and children?" asked Miss Huntingdon quietly,after a few moments' silence.
"What a strange question, auntie!" cried her nephew laughing. "Oh, I'msure I don't know. I daresay he had."
"But I suppose, Walter, he was a plain working-man, who got bread forhimself and his family by his work on the canal."
"Oh, of course, auntie; but what has that to do with it?"
"A very great deal, dear boy. There may have been plenty of pluck shownby your friend Saunders on that occasion, but certainly no moralcourage. Indeed _I_ should call his conduct decidedly immoral andcowardly."
"Cowardly, aunt!"
"Yes, cowardly, and mean. What right had he to use, or rather abuse,his superior skill as a pugilist for the purpose of carrying out an actof wrong-doing, and so to give pain and inflict loss on a plain working-man who had done him no harm, and had not had the same advantages ofeducation as himself?"
"O aunt! you _are_ severe indeed."
"Not too severe, Walter. Saunders, you acknowledge, spoke and actedhastily and improperly at first, and he must have known that he had doneso. Now the true moral courage would have been shown in his confessingthat he was wrong, and expressing sorrow for it."
"What! to a bargee!"
"Yes, to a bargee, Walter. The world might have called him mean orcowardly for such a confession, but he would have shown true moralcourage and nobility for all that. To do what will give pain to othersrather than incur the reproach of cowardice is really acting under thetyranny of a mean and slavish fear of man, though it may be a pluckything in the eyes of the World."
"Ah, well, auntie, that is certainly a new view of things to me; and Isuppose, then, you would apply the same test to duelling,--affairs ofhonour, as they used to be called?"
"Most certainly so, Walter. The duellist is one of the worst of moralcowards."
"Ah! but," cried the other, "to fight a duel used to be considered avery plucky thing, and it really was so, auntie."
"I don't doubt it, Walter; but it was a very immoral thing also.Happily, public opinion has quite changed on the subject of duelling inour own country, and no doubt this has been owing indirectly to thespread of a truer religious tone amongst us. But what could be moremonstrous than the prevailing feeling about duelling a few years ago, asI can well remember it in my young days. Why, duelling was at that timethe highroad to a reputation for courage, and the man who refused tofight was frowned upon in good society, and in some places scouted fromit. And--I say it with the deepest shame--my own sex greatly helped tokeep up this feeling; for the man who had fought the most duels was,with the ladies of his own neighbourhood, for the most part, an objectof special admiration and favour.
"And yet, what nobility or moral courage was there in the man who gaveor accepted the challenge? Just think of what the consequences mightbe, and what the ground of the quarrel often was. A hasty word, or evena mere thoughtless breach of etiquette, would bring a challenge; and theperson called out must not decline to meet his challenger, and give him`satisfaction,' as it was called, in the shape of a pistol bullet, underpain of being cut by all his friends and acquaintances as a coward. Soa man who was a husband and father would steal away from his home earlyin the morning, and go out to some lonely spot and meet the man whom hehad offended, and be murdered in cold blood, and carried back a bleedingcorpse to his miserable widow and fatherless children, just because hecould not bear to be called a coward by the world. And to call this`satisfaction!' The devil never palmed upon his poor deluded slaves amore transparent lie.
"Just think of two men, for instance, who had been friends for years,and in some unguarded moment had used intemperate language towards eachother. Their companions tell them that this is a matter for giving andreceiving satisfaction. So, in perfectly cold blood, with the mostceremonious politeness, the time and place of meeting are fixed by theseconds, who make all arrangements for their principals; and at the timeappointed these
two men stand face to face, with no malice, it may be,in either heart, feeling rather that there were faults on both sides,and at any rate no more wrong done or intended than a little mutualforbearance and concession might easily set right. And yet there theystand; at a given signal aim each at the other's heart; and, if that aimis true, each is murdered by his brother, and hurried in a moment red-handed into the awful presence of his Maker and Judge. And this used tobe called `satisfaction,' and the man who refused to give it was brandedas a coward. And such was the tyranny of this fashion which Satan hadimposed upon thinking and immortal men, that rarely indeed was a manfound who had the true moral courage to refuse to fight a duel whenchallenged to do so."
"Ah then, auntie," said her nephew, "you would give the laurels formoral courage to the man who declined to fight."
"Certainly I would. Yes, I should have called him a truly noble andmorally courageous man who, in those sad duelling days, should havedeclined a challenge on the ground that he feared God rather than man--that he was willing to brave any earthly scorn and loss rather than be acold-blooded murderer and do violence to his own conscience, and breakthe laws of his Creator and Redeemer. Such courage as this would beworth, in my eyes, a thousandfold more than all the `pluck' in theworld."
"Indeed, dear Aunt Kate," said Walter seriously, "I believe you areright; but can you give me any example of such moral courage?"
"Yes, dear boy, I think I can. I call to mind the case of an excellentChristian man; I rather think he was an officer in the army, and thatmade his position more trying, because in the days when duelling was thefashion, for an officer to refuse a challenge would have raised up thewhole of the service against him. However, whether he was a militaryman or not, he was at any rate a true soldier of the Cross. Bysomething he had done, or left undone, he had grievously offended acompanion, and this friend or acquaintance of his called on him onemorning, and, being a hot-tempered man, charged him with the supposedoffence or affront, and working himself up into a violent passion,declared that they must fight it out, and that he should send him aformal challenge. The other listened very quietly to this outburst ofwrath, and then said calmly and deliberately, `Fight you, must it be?certainly, I must not decline your challenge. Yes, we will fight, andit shall be now; here, on this very spot, and with swords. I have myweapon close at hand.' Saying which, the good man pulled a small Bibleout of his pocket, and holding it up before his companion, whose facehad turned deadly pale, said, `Here is my sword, the sword of theSpirit, the only weapon I intend to fight you with.' Telling a friendabout it afterwards, the Christian man remarked, `Never did poorcreature look upon a Bible with more satisfaction and relief than myadversary did on mine.' But at the time when the angry man wasspeechless with astonishment, the other proceeded to say to him kindly,`Friend, I have a dear wife and children. Now, would it have been rightin me to meet you with pistols or other deadly weapons, and to haveentailed lasting misery on those so dear to me, and so dependent on me,by either being myself your murderer or allowing you the opportunity ofbeing mine?' That was true moral heroism, dear Walter, and it had itsreward there and then, for the challenger at once grasped the hand ofhis companion and said, `It would not have been right on your part; youhave done just what it was your duty to do in declining my challenge,and I honour you for it. Let us part friends.'"
"Thank you, auntie; I admire your hero immensely. Now, pray give meanother example, if you have one ready."
"I have read a curious story on this subject," replied Miss Huntingdon,"but I am not sure that it is a true one. I read it in some book yearsago, but what the book was I cannot call to mind. However, the storymay be true, and it may be useful to repeat it, as it just illustratesmy present point about moral courage in reference to duelling. Thestory is substantially this:--
"Some years ago, when a regiment was quartered for a time in one of ourcounty towns, one of the officers of the regiment was challenged by abrother officer, and refused to accept the challenge. This refusal soonflew abroad over all the town and neighbourhood, and the consequence wasthat every one turned his back on the man who refused to fight. He wasavoided by all of his own rank of both sexes as a craven and a coward.Of course, he felt this very keenly. To be shut out from houses wherehe used to be welcomed; to be looked at with scorn by his brotherofficers; to have not a word addressed to him by any one of them whenthey met him on parade or at mess; to be the object of ill-concealedcontempt even to the common soldiers;--these things were burdens almostintolerable to a man who had any respect for his own character as asoldier. However, for a time he bore it patiently. At last he hit uponan expedient to prove to the world that he was no coward, which wasundoubtedly original and convincing, though, certainly, by no meansjustifiable.
"A large evening party was being given to the officers of the regimentby some distinguished person in the town; a ball probably, for manyladies were present. While all were in the very midst and height oftheir amusement, suddenly the disgraced officer made his appearanceamong them in his dress uniform. How could this be? how came he there?Assuredly no one had invited him. As he advanced into the middle of thebrilliantly lighted room an empty space was left for him, officers andladies shrinking from him, as though his near approach broughtdefilement with it. Looking quietly round, he deliberately produced andheld up a hand-grenade, as it was called--that is to say, a smallbombshell--and, before any one of the astonished spectators could stophim, lighted a match at one of the wax-candles, and applied it to thefusee of the shell. A shower of sparks came rushing from the hand-grenade, which would explode in a minute or two or even less. Theconsternation of the company was frightful, and a furious and generalrush was made to the doors. As the guests dashed out of the room, somejust caught sight of the officer who had brought in and lighted theshell standing calmly over it with his arms folded. A few moments more,all the company had vanished terror-stricken, and then a frightfulexplosion was heard. One or two of the officers hurried back withhorror on their faces. The man who had been branded as a coward layoutstretched on the ground. He had thrown himself flat on the floor theinstant the room was cleared; the fragments of the shell had flown overhim, and he was almost entirely uninjured.
"His object in this extraordinary proceeding was to show his brotherofficers and the world generally that a man might refuse, fromconscientious motives, to fight a duel and yet be no coward. I am notpraising or approving of his conduct in taking such a dangerous courseto prove his point; for he was endangering the lives of many as well ashis own life, and nothing could justify that. But, if the story betrue, it shows at least that a man may decline to do an act from a highsense of duty, so as to bring upon himself the reproach of cowardice,and yet may be a man of undoubted bravery after all. But I do not atall place this officer on my list of moral heroes. I trust, however,dear Walter, that our conversation on this subject will strengthen inyou the conviction that the noblest and truest courage is that highmoral courage which enables a man to endure with patience any scorn, orloss, or blame, rather than deliberately do what he knows that hisconscience and the Word of God condemn."
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