_ Chapter VIII - The heroic behaviour of Colonel Bath.
Booth went this morning to pay a second visit to the colonel, where he
found Colonel James. Both the colonel and the lieutenant appeared a
little shocked at their first meeting, but matters were soon cleared
up; for the former presently advanced to the latter, shook him
heartily by the hand, and said, "Mr. Booth, I am ashamed to see you;
for I have injured you, and I heartily ask your pardon. I am now
perfectly convinced that what I hinted to my brother, and which I find
had like to have produced such fatal consequences, was entirely
groundless. If you will be contented with my asking your pardon, and
spare me the disagreeable remembrance of what led me into my error, I
shall esteem it as the highest obligation."
Booth answered, "As to what regards yourself, my dear colonel, I am
abundantly satisfied; but, as I am convinced some rascal hath been my
enemy with you in the cruellest manner, I hope you will not deny me
the opportunity of kicking him through the world."
"By all the dignity of man," cries Colonel Bath, "the boy speaks with
spirit, and his request is reasonable."
Colonel James hesitated a moment, and then whispered Booth that he
would give him all the satisfaction imaginable concerning the whole
affair when they were alone together; upon which, Booth addressing
himself to Colonel Bath, the discourse turned on other matters during
the remainder of the visit, which was but short, and then both went
away together, leaving Colonel Bath as well as it was possible to
expect, more to the satisfaction of Booth than of Colonel James, who
would not have been displeased if his wound had been more dangerous;
for he was grown somewhat weary of a disposition that he rather called
captious than heroic, and which, as he every day more and more hated
his wife, he apprehended might some time or other give him some
trouble; for Bath was the most affectionate of brothers, and had often
swore, in the presence of James, that he would eat any man alive who
should use his sister ill.
Colonel Bath was well satisfied that his brother and the lieutenant
were gone out with a design of tilting, from which he offered not a
syllable to dissuade them, as he was convinced it was right, and that
Booth could not in honour take, nor the colonel give, any less
satisfaction. When they had been gone therefore about half an hour, he
rang his bell to enquire if there was any news of his brother; a
question which he repeated every ten minutes for the space of two
hours, when, having heard nothing of him, he began to conclude that
both were killed on the spot.
While he was in this state of anxiety his sister came to see him; for,
notwithstanding his desire of keeping it a secret, the duel had blazed
all over the town. After receiving some kind congratulations on his
safety, and some unkind hints concerning the warmth of his temper, the
colonel asked her when she had seen her husband? she answered not that
morning. He then communicated to her his suspicion, told her he was
convinced his brother had drawn his sword that day, and that, as
neither of them had heard anything from him, he began to apprehend the
worst that could happen.
Neither Miss Bellamy nor Mrs. Gibber were ever in a greater
consternation on the stage than now appeared in the countenance of
Mrs. James. "Good Heavens! brother," cries she; "what do you tell me?
you have frightened me to death. Let your man get me a glass of water
immediately, if you have not a mind to see me die before your face.
When, where, how was this quarrel? why did you not prevent it if you
knew of it? is it not enough to be every day tormenting me with
hazarding your own life, but must you bring the life of one who you
know must be, and ought to be, so much the dearest of all to me, into
danger? take your sword, brother, take your sword, and plunge it into
my bosom; it would be kinder of you than to fill it with such dreads
and terrors." Here she swallowed the glass of water, and then threw
herself back in her chair, as if she had intended to faint away.
Perhaps, if she had so, the colonel would have lent her no assistance,
for she had hurt him more than by ten thousand stabs. He sat erect in
his chair, with his eyebrows knit, his forehead wrinkled, his eyes
flashing fire, his teeth grating against each other, and breathing
horrour all round him. In this posture he sat for some time silent,
casting disdainful looks at his sister. At last his voice found its
way through a passion which had almost choaked him, and he cried out,
"Sister, what have I done to deserve the opinion you express of me?
which of my actions hath made you conclude that I am a rascal and a
coward? look at that poor sword, which never woman yet saw but in its
sheath; what hath that done to merit your desire that it should be
contaminated with the blood of a woman?"
"Alas! brother," cried she, "I know not what you say; you are
desirous, I believe, to terrify me out of the little senses I have
left. What can I have said, in the agonies of grief into which you
threw me, to deserve this passion?"
"What have you said?" answered the colonel: "you have said that which,
if a man had spoken, nay, d--n me, if he had but hinted that he durst
even think, I would have made him eat my sword; by all the dignity of
man, I would have crumbled his soul into powder. But I consider that
the words were spoken by a woman, and I am calm again. Consider, my
dear, that you are my sister, and behave yourself with more spirit. I
have only mentioned to you my surmise. It may not have happened as I
suspect; but, let what will have happened, you will have the comfort
that your husband hath behaved himself with becoming dignity, and lies
in the bed of honour."
"Talk not to me of such comfort," replied the lady; "it is a loss I
cannot survive. But why do I sit here lamenting myself? I will go this
instant and know the worst of my fate, if my trembling limbs will
carry me to my coach. Good morrow, dear brother; whatever becomes of
me, I am glad to find you out of danger." The colonel paid her his
proper compliments, and she then left the room, but returned instantly
back, saying, "Brother, I must beg the favour of you to let your
footman step to my mantua-maker; I am sure it is a miracle, in my
present distracted condition, how it came into my head." The footman
was presently summoned, and Mrs. James delivered him his message,
which was to countermand the orders which she had given that very
morning to make her up a new suit of brocade. "Heaven knows," says
she, "now when I can wear brocade, or whether ever I shall wear it."
And now, having repeated her message with great exactness, lest there
should be any mistake, she again lamented her wretched situation, and
then departed, leaving the colonel in full expectation of hearing
speedy news of the fatal issue of the battle.
But, though the reader should entertain the same curiosity, we must be
excused from satisfying it till we have first accounted for an
incident which we have related in this very chapter, and which, we
think, deserves some solution. The critic, I am convinced, already is
apprized that I mean the friendly behaviour of James to Booth, which,
from what we had before recorded, seemed so little to be expected.
It must be remembered that the anger which the former of these
gentlemen had conceived against the latter arose entirely from the
false account given by Miss Matthews of Booth, whom that lady had
accused to Colonel James of having as basely as wickedly traduced his
character.
Now, of all the ministers of vengeance, there are none with whom the
devil deals so treacherously as with those whom he employs in
executing the mischievous purposes of an angry mistress; for no sooner
is revenge executed on an offending lover that it is sure to be
repented; and all the anger which before raged against the beloved
object, returns with double fury on the head of his assassin.
Miss Matthews, therefore, no, sooner heard that Booth was killed (for
so was the report at first, and by a colonel of the army) than she
immediately concluded it to be James. She was extremely shocked with
the news, and her heart instantly began to relent. All the reasons on
which she had founded her love recurred, in the strongest and
liveliest colours, to her mind, and all the causes of her hatred sunk
down and disappeared; or, if the least remembrance of anything which
had disobliged her remained, her heart became his zealous advocate,
and soon satisfied her that her own fates were more to be blamed than
he, and that, without being a villain, he could have acted no
otherwise than he had done.
In this temper of mind she looked on herself as the murderer of an
innocent man, and, what to her was much worse, of the man she had
loved, and still did love, with all the violence imaginable. She
looked on James as the tool with which she had done this murder; and,
as it is usual for people who have rashly or inadvertently made any
animate or inanimate thing the instrument of mischief to hate the
innocent means by which the mischief was effected (for this is a
subtle method which the mind invents to excuse ourselves, the last
objects on whom we would willingly wreak our vengeance), so Miss
Matthews now hated and cursed James as the efficient cause of that act
which she herself had contrived and laboured to carry into execution.
She sat down therefore in a furious agitation, little short of
madness, and wrote the following letter:
"I Hope this will find you in the hands of justice, for the murder of
one of the best friends that ever man was blest with. In one sense,
indeed, he may seem to have deserved his fate, by chusing a fool for a
friend; for who but a fool would have believed what the anger and rage
of an injured woman suggested; a story so improbable, that I could
scarce be thought in earnest when I mentioned it?
"Know, then, cruel wretch, that poor Booth loved you of all men
breathing, and was, I believe, in your commendation guilty of as much
falsehood as I was in what I told you concerning him.
"If this knowledge makes you miserable, it is no more than you have
made the unhappy
F. MATTHEWS." _