his unhappy manner of regarding it as an instance of his now permanent
social authority. He had instituted what he called his JURY OF HONOUR
COURT, composed of the select gentlemen of the realm, ostensibly to weigh
the causes of disputes between members of their class, and decree the
method of settlement: but actually, my father admitted, to put a stop to
the affair between Edbury and me.

'That was the origin of the notion, Richie. I carried it on. I dined
some of the best men of our day. I seized the opportunity when our
choicest "emperor" was rolling on wheels to propound my system. I
mention the names of Bramham DeWitt, Colonel Hibbert Segrave, Lord Alonzo
Carr, Admiral Loftus, the Earl of Luton, the Marquis of Hatchford, Jack
Hippony, Monterez Williams,--I think you know him?--and little Dick
Phillimore, son of a big-wig, a fellow of a capital wit and discretion;
I mention them as present to convince you we are not triflers, dear boy.
My argument ran, it is absurd to fight; also it is intolerable to be
compelled to submit to insult. As the case stands, we are under a
summary edict of the citizens, to whom chivalry is unknown. Well, well,
I delivered a short speech. Fighting, I said, resembled butting,--
a performance proper to creatures that grow horns instead of brains . .
not to allude to a multitude of telling remarks; and the question "Is man
a fighting animal?" my answer being that he is not born with spurs on
his heels or horns to his head and that those who insisted on fighting
should be examined by competent anatomists, "ologists" of some sort, to
decide whether they have the excrescences, and proclaim them . . .
touching on these lighter parts of my theme with extreme delicacy. But--
and here I dwelt on my point: Man, if not a fighting animal in his
glorious--I forgot what--is a sensitive one, and has the idea of honour.
"Hear," from Colonel Segrave, and Sir Weeton Slaterhe was one of the
party. In fine, Richie, I found myself wafted into a breathing oration.