Part 7

"When a man fights, his conviction that right is on his side is everything. And therefore the correct attitude of a second is that of a man, who acting calmly but firmly in his friend's interest seeks to avoid a quarrel. Any other attitude is not only incorrect but even renders him liable to be called to account for neglecting his bounden duty.

"Personally, if after exhausting every effort to obtain a friendly settlement I found that a meeting was unavoidable, although I was thoroughly satisfied in my own mind that it was a case not of injured honour but only of injured vanity, or of wounded pride, I should not hesitate to withdraw. Duels played to the gallery are either odious or absurd; they are out of date, and should be numbered with the obsolete fashions of the past.

VII.

"They arose in the manners and customs of a flamboyant era, when everyone carried a sword and it was considered the right thing to air it on every opportunity, in order to fill up the time which might otherwise have passed somewhat heavily. Every age has its fashions and its vices, its childish toys and favourite follies. Those gallant blades that cut such a tremendous figure in the old days would meet with a very poor reception now, if they could revisit the scenes of their dashing exploits.

"But if it is the duty of a second to play the part of mediator before the action, it is equally his duty to be cool and collected on the ground. His personal responsibility is increased, but otherwise his rôle remains unchanged.

"It then becomes imperative on him to anticipate and allow for every contingency, he must let nothing escape him, and must give the closest attention to the minutest detail, in order that his principal may be relieved of all anxiety, and may preserve that cool presence of mind which is so absolutely indispensable.

VIII.

"In short the fact that has to be grasped is simply this,--that not one of the thousand and one preliminary details is unimportant; and that things seemingly the most trivial may suddenly assume the most unexpected gravity. The stake is too high to justify any man in gambling it away with a light heart.

"In the first place the selection of the ground must be carefully considered. The surface should be smooth and even, without dips or inequalities that can be in the slightest degree dangerous. Be particular to avoid a spot where there is any grass. Grass is slippery and may imperil your friend's life.

"Here is another point worth remembering. Run your eye quickly but carefully over the ground where your friend will stand; he is very likely to neglect this precaution himself, and may fail to see a root for instance, almost unnoticeable to a careless glance, which might very easily trip him up or throw him off his guard at a critical moment, when it was too late to stay the impetus of his opponent's point. All this no doubt seems extremely trivial; but how do you know that the tuft of wet slippery grass, the half hidden root, or treacherous stone will not turn the scale a moment later?

"The contending parties, it has been said, are entitled to a fair division of light and ground. If that is so, you will be well advised not to stand out for your share of light, and you should never consent to let your principal face the sun. The glitter of the blades confuses the eye and causes hesitation. Remember that in fighting the eye is an implement at least as important as the sword. Seeing in this case is thinking. The eye warns you of danger, and instinctively picks out the enemy's weak spot. And more than that, a steady eye, an eye that looks one in the face unflinchingly, overawes and fascinates. While the sword threatens, the spying questioning eye is the intelligent scout.

"Again, never allow the combatants to strip. The impression of the cold air on the bare skin and the unaccustomed exposure may affect one more than the other, if he is naturally more sensitive, even though he may be quite unconscious of the fact."

"But," objected the Comte de R., "what if the other side insist?"

"You must refuse to give way. No one has a right to insist upon it. It is a barrack-room practice, usual among soldiers, and does not hold good outside the guard-room."

IX.

"While we are on this point," remarked one of my friends, "there are two questions I should like to ask you."

"I will do my best to answer them," I replied, "for--as my lawyer would put it--I may say, that I am thoroughly acquainted with all the leading cases."

"Well, is it allowable to use a fencing glove?"

"It is usual. But custom is not always right, and though many men suppose that they are entitled to it as a matter of course, they cannot strictly speaking claim it. Generally the parties agree beforehand whether fencing gloves shall be used or not. It nearly always happens that both sides prefer to use them, for with the help of a fencing glove you get a firmer and more confident grip of the sword, and are less likely to be disarmed. Besides, the hilt of a sword is hard; it tires and bruises the hand; the fingers in contact with it are jarred at every parry that is at all strong, or whenever the blades meet sharply. On these grounds fencing gloves are generally allowed. However, if the seconds of one side object, the seconds of the other side cannot either require them to use a fencing glove or claim the right for their own principal.

"For instance, the objection may be raised that the use of a fencing glove is familiar to a man accustomed to fencing, but unfamiliar and of no value to one who has never fenced. True, this objection is seldom raised, because, as I pointed out just now, the man who is not used to fencing is of all men the one who finds a serious difficulty in handling the rough hilt of a sword, and who has everything to gain by using a padded glove.

"In any case you are at liberty to wear an ordinary leather glove, whether your opponent chooses to do so or not. Or you may wrap a handkerchief round your hand, to give you a firmer grip of the sword, provided you are careful not to leave a hanging end, which may dangle loose, and hinder the action of your opponent's point."

X.

"I will now put my second question," continued my inquisitor.

"Well, what is your second question?"

"Is it permissible to use the unarmed hand to parry and put aside your opponent's blade?"

"Oh! that is a very serious matter, which I did not mean to pass over in silence. But it involves the consideration of several points, which would perhaps take us too far to-night. Suppose we leave it for to-morrow."

"Then we adjourn until to-morrow," said the Comte de C.

And so we broke up.

The Eighth Evening

I.

"You asked me yesterday, if it is allowable to use the unarmed hand to parry and put aside the sword.

"My answer is very emphatic:--No."

"But what if the parties agree to allow it beforehand?" asked the Marquis de R....

"That is an agreement which in my opinion ought not to be made. The practice is wholly foreign to our ways and to the traditions that have come down to us.

"I am fully aware of the fact that there is the authority of a very profound writer, the Comte de Chatauvillard, who has many strong supporters, for the statement that 'the parry with the hand may be a matter of agreement.' And other writers, among whom is more than one eminent master, may be quoted for the view that it is a proper matter for arrangement between the contending parties. That does not affect my opinion in the least; and I say very emphatically and very distinctly:--As you clearly have the right to say yes or no, say no invariably.

"Such a concession or such an agreement, even if it is freely entered upon by both sides, is only too likely to lead to disastrous and fatal mistakes, while it does not offer any counterbalancing advantage. I will try to explain why.

"The parry made with the hand that does not hold the sword goes back to the ancient traditions of the Italian school, to the methods in vogue when men fought with sword and dagger. They parried and attacked with either weapon indifferently, bringing one or other into play by voltes and passes, which have been dismissed from the theory and practice of modern fencing. The art, which was adapted in those days to the double means of offence and defence, employed a system very different from that which prevails now. This parry, or to speak more accurately this method of diverting an opponent's blade, which was done with either hand indifferently, was reasonable then; nowadays it would be a fantastic and dangerous anomaly.

"I remember trying by way of experiment, some years ago at Naples, several assaults of this sort with an Italian professor, named Parisi.--The poor fellow died I believe in prison, after taking part in one of the many revolutionary attempts that were made to wreck the kingdom of Naples. Parisi used to come regularly to my house where I had furnished a room for fencing. I wished to make a serious study of Italian play, and of the surviving traditions of this school, which is rapidly disappearing and is only connected with its past by a few almost invisible threads.

"Well, Parisi used to fence with a long Italian sword in one hand, and in the other a sort of stiletto, which he employed to parry my attacks in certain lines; and while he thus stopped my attack with his dagger, he made not exactly a riposte but rather a simultaneous counter-attack on me with his sword. This kind of play, which continually produced new and difficult situations, was very interesting.

"If Parisi dropped his dagger, what happened? His left hand, instead of following my blade, sprang at once to a fixed position. And to what position? Why, you could see at a glance, by the way he carried his forearm, thrown rather high across his chest and only a few inches away from it, that he was ready for the parry with the hand, in fact doubly ready for it, both by the position of his body and by the forward position of his left arm.

"Now we who follow the rules of French fencing do just the reverse. We carry our left arm to the rear, and so leave a smaller surface exposed to our opponent's point; we therefore cannot bring our left hand into play without abandoning the French position, or at all events without sacrificing some of its fundamental principles.

II.

"It is a good many years since I first took up fencing; I have been in all the fencing-rooms; I have fenced with many professors and with all sorts and conditions of amateurs, and no one has ever suggested to me that we should agree to parry with the hand. I have never, no not once in all the assaults that I have witnessed, heard such a suggestion made; I have never seen this kind of parry employed; I have never heard of a master showing or teaching it to his pupils as a possible case or even as a highly improbable case, against which it was his duty, as a wise and experienced professor, to put on their guard those whose instruction was committed to his care.

"Then why, when the assault ceases to be an exercise or an amusement, why, when you stake your life upon the issue, should you go out of your way to suggest or assent to something foreign to all recognised practice?

"If you approve of the surviving methods of the old Italian school, you should admit all the precepts of that school, and then you will at least be logical.

"Your sword will have a long heavy blade, broad and perfectly rigid; the hilt will be surmounted by a little cross-bar of steel on which you will place your fingers, and to which you will attach them with a long ribbon; incidentally you will do away with the freedom of the hand, the supple action of the wrist and the niceties of finger play. You will have to make frequent use of parries of contraction, which are indispensable to Italian play, though they are little valued, not to say altogether ignored by the French school. You must learn your voltes and passes, the manoeuvres of ducking and dodging; and then, I repeat, you will at least be logical. But an agreement which recognises only one of these practices, while it disregards all the rest, seems to me absurd.

"Let me now show you the danger, which can hardly be avoided, of admitting this parry with the left hand.

"Between the open palm, which merely brushes the blade aside, and the hand, which by a nervous movement closes unconsciously on the blade and holds it fast, the difference is very hard to seize. The thing is done in a moment. It passes like a flash in the confusion of the encounter and leaves no trace behind.

"Without a doubt the man who has unconsciously arrested the blade, instead of merely turning it aside, will be in despair, and in the loyalty of his heart will be the first to accuse himself. But if his point has taken effect, if he has delivered a fatal thrust, will his despair or regret or any self-reproach heal the wound that he has inflicted, or restore the life that he has taken? If the odds were a thousand to one against a fatal issue, that one chance would be enough to condemn fatally this dangerous agreement.

"Moreover, I may remark, speaking from the experience that is obtained by long familiarity, and perhaps from some small skill in the practice of arms, that it is often very difficult, not to say impossible, for the most practised eye in the confusion of a multitude of thrusts, swiftly parried and as swiftly returned, to follow with accuracy the course of two swords, that pass to and fro and interlace like living things, or to judge with indisputable certainty the difference between these two movements, one of which is authorised by consent, while the other may suddenly turn an honourable fight into a foul assassination.

"The mere act of judging so bristles with difficulties, that it is likely to lead to a conflict of opinion between even the most unbiassed judges. Who can decide between them? The fact on which their judgment is based is there no longer. It passed in a moment, quick as thought. Consider the terrible position in which you are placed, in the presence of a man lying stretched on the ground before you, cold and lifeless, who ought to be a living man full of strength and vigour.

"And now, I appeal to all seconds. In the name of good sense, in common fairness, could you or could you not with a clear conscience take the heavy responsibility of such a risk?

III.

"I am trying, you see, to obtain a comprehensive view of the manifold duties of seconds, and to omit none of the minute matters of detail, which it is their duty to attend to, and which ought to be present to their minds. Here is another point, which is worthy of their serious attention.

"When the combatants have taken sword in hand and the blades are crossed, the seconds should stand within reach, holding a sword or walking-stick, and ready to stop the fight should any irregularity occur, or if either of the men should slip, or stumble, or be disarmed, or wounded. This last case especially requires their utmost vigilance, for there are two events, both equally disastrous, that may occur.

"Suppose one of the men is wounded. In the natural excitement of the moment, the man who has delivered the thrust is often unaware that his point has taken effect. Before he can tell that his opponent is disabled, perhaps before he can check himself, he may inflict a second wound, unless the swords are instantly knocked up.

"The wounded man, on the other hand, may not immediately feel the effect of his wound, and by continuing to fight may run the risk of being wounded a second time, and that more seriously. It may also happen, and this is the great danger, that in a fit of blind rage he will rush madly on his opponent.

"Again, the man who has inflicted a wound and has felt his point go home, instantly and instinctively stays his hand, and even if his opponent renews the attack hesitates to strike a second time one who is already hurt. It is during this juncture of a moment's pause with a moment's hesitation that the wounded man may make his mad rush, and either run his opponent through the body, or meet his own destruction, if his opponent has promptly recovered his guard, and calmly offers him his point.

IV.

"Both cases are alike disastrous, for either may lead to a fatal result at a time when by the wound already received the fight may be regarded as closed, or at least as suspended. The seconds, who by redoubling their precautions might have saved the useless shedding of blood, will of course be held to blame.

"No doubt it sometimes happens that in spite of the closest attention the attack is so prompt, so impetuous, so swift, that it is impossible to intervene in time. But then at all events the seconds will have no cause for self-reproach. Fortunately such cases are of very rare occurrence, but they do sometimes happen; and it is therefore very necessary for the seconds to watch the crossed swords incessantly, and to follow their every movement, in order to intervene the moment that one of the men is wounded, however slight the wound may seem.

"If on examination the wound is found to be so trivial that the fight can continue without disadvantage to the wounded man, the combatants will at least have had time to recover their coolness and self-possession.

"This close attention is one of the most important points; it is in fact a matter of absolute necessity. Here is the seconds' real difficulty, for here the whole responsibility rests with them.

"I have still several things to say, of which you will recognise the importance. But it is getting late, and if you will allow me I will postpone them to our next meeting."

The Ninth Evening

I.

"I wish," remarked the Comte de C..., when we met the next day, "that you would tell us what you think of the _corps à corps_ in the duel."

"That," I replied, "is the very thing I was going to talk about."

"The right course in my opinion is to come to an agreement with the seconds of the other side that the combatants shall be separated and start afresh, when they become entangled at close quarters in what is termed a _corps à corps_. Otherwise, in a struggle of this sort it is impossible to say what may happen, except that both men are likely to receive their quietus,--a very symmetrical settling of their accounts by the process of double entry.

"But here again, one cannot help feeling that we have another thorny case, which calls for the exercise of judgment with due regard to the circumstances of the moment and fair play for both sides.

"If one of the men makes a furious rush on the other, the seconds ought not to knock up the swords until the man who has stood the attack has delivered his riposte. For he has gained this clear advantage, that after stopping the rush he is prepared with an effective rejoinder, and this advantage he is clearly entitled to use.

"Many questions of duelling must be left to the impartial discretion of the seconds. There is therefore no need to consider what would happen, if a second were to take unfair advantage of an agreement, honourably entered into on both sides, by interfering when the case expressly provided for had not arisen."

"Well, but suppose such a thing did happen?"

"Why, then, your conscience must tell you how to act. Perhaps you might interfere summarily to stop the proceedings, if the nature of the quarrel allowed it, or you might call upon the second who had so misconstrued his duty to withdraw and take no further part in the affair.

"I have often heard men say:--'If I were acting second in an affair that was not so serious as to warrant a fatal issue, and were to see that my principal was about to be run through the body by a thrust that would certainly be fatal, I should not hesitate to knock up the swords. I could not resist the temptation; my feelings would be too strong for me. And as a matter of fact should I be very far wrong?'

"Yes, my friend, you would be absolutely wrong. You would be assuming the most onerous, the most terrible responsibility, and your action, though dictated by a praiseworthy impulse, would probably cause you the most bitter remorse.

"For consider:--you have arrested the sword which would have struck one of the opponents full in the body. The fight continues, and the man whose blow you intercepted with the praiseworthy motive, I quite admit, of preventing a mortal wound, is himself wounded or possibly killed. Fortune which favoured him at the outset suddenly turns against him and favours his opponent, perhaps with a lucky fluke, a thing which no foresight can prevent. What would your feelings be, when you saw stretched at your feet a man whose death you had caused by exposing him to a danger that he ought never to have encountered?

"A duel is always a miserable business; but when once you have faithfully and energetically done all that you can to prevent it, you must leave chance to decide between the combatants; only see that you take all the measures that are in your power to minimise the chances of a fatal issue."

"It seems to me," someone remarked, "that if, when a friend asks you to oblige him with your services, one were to think of all these innumerable responsibilities, one would invariably decline to act."

"I don't know whether one would always decline, but I know very well that the second's part is one of unsparing self-sacrifice and devotion. I know that the man who undertakes it lightly cannot be too severely blamed, and I may add that I have never accepted the charge without passing a sleepless night haunted by the most gloomy forebodings. The second who conceives that he is merely required to be a passive witness, robs the part of all its meaning, all its value, all its dignity.

"You remember, I was speaking just now of the case of a second who acting on the spur of the moment instinctively intercepts a blow. I will give you an experience of my own.

"I was once acting for a friend in an affair of honour; I was thoroughly on the alert and carefully following the play of the points with that close attention, and perhaps I may say with that sureness of eye, which one acquires from some familiarity with sword-play, when I saw the opponent's point coming straight at my friend's body. Before I could think, I saw in an instant, as no one accustomed to fencing could fail to see, that the wound would be mortal. I knocked up the swords, and as the two men had got to close quarters, I called out:--'On guard.' But I had hardly done so, when I realised the full extent of my unconsidered action, and I felt--well, I really cannot tell you what my feelings were at that moment. Luckily for me, my friend, who was no less clumsy than brave, was not the man to leave me long in this cruel position. He fell a few seconds later seriously wounded.

"The simple fact is, that where so many considerations have to be taken into account, you cannot be too careful never to go a step beyond the limits of strict and unassailable justice, in fairness to yourself and to everyone else concerned.

II.

"In this connection I am reminded of another case, which not unfrequently occurs, and on which I have sometimes heard the most contradictory opinions expressed, for it presents a really difficult problem.

"In the course of the fight one of the antagonists calls for a halt--have you the right to insist that the fight shall continue without interruption?

"In my opinion you unquestionably have that right, unless the case has been already provided for, or both men consent."

"Still surely," said the Comte de C..., "in a prolonged set-to, if your opponent is exhausted, if he is so done that he can hardly hold his sword, if he is blown and distressed, you cannot refuse to give him a minute or two to recover his wind."