1831.] Confessions of a Coward. 389 



that breathes through all his compositions, and was indeed diffused over 

 his life. We never hear of him at Marston Moor or Worcester; but we 

 find him, during the tumult of the civil war, sequestered in one of the 

 quietest nooks of London, and inscribing his door with the beautiful and 

 pathetic sonnet, beginning 



ee Captain, or colonel, or knight in arms, 

 Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, 

 If deed of honour did thee ever please, 



Guard them, and him within protect from harms." 



I particularly admire this sonnet. There is a tone of supplication in it 

 so much in unison with the sentiments I entertain towards all military 

 officers, from the field-marshal down to the corporal. Milton had the 

 genius of cowardice as well as of poesy. How superior to Dante ! The 

 Florentine would have been buckling on his armour, while the English- 

 man was watering his threshold with melodious tears, and singing for 

 quarter in strains that would have made Mars himself merciful. 



I have now to disclose the effects of my unrivalled cowardice upon 

 my manners and conversation. So constitutioual and instinctive is my 

 dread of arms, deeds of arms, and men-at-arms j and so deeply con- 

 vinced am I that there is no apology so abject that I would not infinitely 

 rather make than stand to be fired at, that nothing can exceed the pains 

 I am at to be on amicable terms with all the world. I am all smiles, 

 courtesies, and civilities. It is scarcely possible for mortal man to pick 

 a quarrel with me. I apologize, in fact, before I offend ; sometimes 

 even when (if any feelings have been hurt) I myself am the injured 

 party. For example, if a person tread on my toe in the street, I bow 

 and ask his pardon, while, at the same time, I am writhing from the 

 effects of the pressure on my corn. 



It may be supposed that, like ordinary cowards, I am a brag- 

 gadocio, and talk big, in order to produce on the company a false 

 impression of my character ; but I am too sagacious to resort to an 

 artifice which has been so often exposed, and is so easily seen 

 through. On the contrary, I try to imitate the bearing and discourse of 

 the truly valiant, which I have generally observed to be as opposite 

 as possible to that of Captain Bobadil. At the same time, there are 

 certain peculiarities in my conversation, from which I fear some person 

 of more than common penetration I particularly dread the ladies 

 will some time or another divine the truth. I am too fond of expa- 

 tiating on moral intrepidity and intellectual courage ; and more than 

 once I have endangered myself by maintaining that there is nothing 

 derogatory to a man of honour in making an apology, without laying 

 sufficient stress upon the clause provided he has been in the wrong. But 

 I never was in such peril of exposure as a few days ago, at the house of 

 an intimate friend. " L. misunderstood," said a lady, addressing her- 

 self to me, " an observation you made here the other evening/' 

 Now, misunderstood is a verb I abhor in every mood and tense. It jar- 

 red on my ear like the cocking of a pistol ; and, without pausing to ask 

 what expression of mine had been so unlucky as to have been miscon- 

 strued, I exclaimed, " I will make any explanation he thinks necessary." 

 Fortunately, the nature of the observation in question prevented the 

 ridicule of this speech from being noticed. " You will not have much 

 trouble, I imagine/' said the lady ; " it was merely a mistake of one 



