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I.

We have now to examine the duel with swords from a different point of view. The ignorant and inexperienced fencer, trying at the last moment to find a desperate remedy for a desperate state of affairs, may be dismissed, and we have now to consider the case of combatants who are more or less evenly matched, and who are fighting in deadly earnest. For as I have already said, a duel generally equalises the forces on either side, except when a skilful and resolute swordsman meets a clumsy hesitating duffer, or when a cool head is opposed to that rash and furious bluster which more often than not leads a man to his destruction.

“First and foremost, your invariable rule must be:—Distrust your enemy; never be overconfident. I cannot too often repeat that the unexpected always turns up just when you are least prepared for it. It is this glorious uncertainty that to my mind makes fighting with swords the only sort of duelling that is fair and sportsmanlike, the only sort in which energy, courage, and resolution always give some chance to the weaker combatant.

“In a duel fought with pistols, what a wretched rÔle is assigned to the combatants. Energy is of no use, courage of no value; you stand up like a target to be shot at, without any possibility of defence. Courage and cowardice meet on equal terms; the feeblest and most spiritless sneak may succeed in defeating the most determined courage and the manliest energy. A finger presses a trigger, and the thing is done. Duelling with pistols has always seemed to me a monstrous practice. I am delighted to see it disappearing from our manners, and going more and more out of fashion every day.

II.

“To return to my subject,—there are certain elementary principles of self-defence, from which the prudent fencer ought never to depart; principles of such universal application, that they may be considered the foundation on which is based all serious fighting, which is conducted with any sort of method.

“As soon as the second who undertakes to start the proceedings has put you on guard, and steps back, leaving you at liberty to set to, you should immediately take two or three paces to the rear, before your opponent can realise or anticipate what you are about. By this means you at once put yourself out of range, and out of danger either from a surprise or from one of those blind and frantic rushes, to which, as we have seen, some men are apt to pin their faith.”

“But,” exclaimed one of my hearers, not altogether seriously, “if your opponent does the same thing, you will find yourselves at a range more suitable for pistol practice than for sword-play.”

“In that case,” I replied, taking him seriously, “you have three advantages for one,—surely a substantial gain.

“In the first place, if the same idea has occurred to your opponent as to you, or if the same advice has been given to you both, the advice is the more likely to be sound.

“In the second place, his quick strategic movement to the rear tells you very plainly that he too has no fancy for a surprise, or for that rough and tumble style of fighting which reduces sword-play to a sort of fisticuffs. You are able to make up your mind at once that he is not that sort of fighter, and that his attacks will be prudent and well considered.

“In the third place, the brief pause gives you a moment or two to pull yourself together and get steady, to take a good look at your opponent’s point, and get over that first involuntary sensation, that momentary chill, which no one, not even the bravest of us, ever fails to experience. It also gives you time to run your eye over your antagonist, and by noting how he stands, how he holds his sword, in a word how he shapes, to look the situation in the face and settle your plan of campaign.

“That, I think you will admit, is something gained, even if you have to stand for a few seconds at a range which, as you say, seems more suitable for pistol practice.

III.

“Have you never observed how all animals, from the most insignificant creatures up to the most savage beasts, set about fighting? Look at two cocks in a back-yard or two bulls in a field. Notice how they skirmish and spar before really letting themselves go; notice the wicked glitter of their eyes as they intently watch for an opening, where they will presently plant their most telling blow.

“What teaches them not to rush at each other’s throat in blind fury? Why, simply instinct, the science of self-preservation which is common to every living thing; and common instinct should teach you the same lesson.

“You will easily realise how completely you upset or at least disturb the calculations of the man who is clinging to advice of this kind:—‘The moment you are on guard,—lunge, before your opponent has time to collect himself’; or of the man, whose one idea is to make a wild and indiscriminate charge.

“Such men, however lacking they may be in brains, can hardly fail to perceive that the distance between you and them makes a surprise impracticable. If they do attempt it, their movements will be disconcerted; they will give themselves away, and may probably run upon your point if you hold it straight before you, or in any case they must give you time to see them coming. You may be attacked no doubt, and attacked furiously, but you will not be surprised.

IV.

“When you have placed yourself out of range you remain free to choose your next move. If your opponent now seems inclined to shorten the distance between you, wait for him without breaking ground. He is compelled to advance, and therefore is at a disadvantage; for if he exposes himself, you are ready for him; you do your best to harass his advance, you watch your opportunity, and whatever movement he makes you let him see that he is continually threatened by your point. He cannot help giving you notice of his attack; you see what is coming, and are able to take your measures accordingly. The way he manages his advance, and the accompanying movements of his point, hand, and arm, are sure signs by which you can tell how much or how little he knows.

“If on the other hand he stands on the defensive and seems inclined to wait for your attack, you may advance cautiously, with short steps, keeping your legs well under you and your body well balanced, levelling your point now at his eyes, now at his chest;—for you must be careful to guard against the dangers that I have just mentioned.

“In order to counteract, or at least to lessen the disadvantage to which you are exposed on your advance, you must occupy your opponent’s attention by continually threatening him in the different lines; for by compelling him to protect himself you prevent him from attacking you, and meanwhile little by little you gain ground.

“It is a good plan to feint a serious attack in order to compel him to show his hand, and to find out whether he means to rely on a parry, or if he will simply straighten his arm. But you must be very sure of yourself, and have complete control of your movements, or you will very likely disclose your own plans by some involuntary and incautious gesture.

“All that I have said applies with equal force to good and bad fencers, to the expert as well as to the novice. Prudence and self-control are more than half the battle. To these must be added science, which enables you to deceive your opponent by deluding him as to your real object, while you compel him unwillingly to betray himself.

V.

“I hope,” I said, interrupting myself, “that you find me tolerably intelligible and that you follow the connection between the successive steps of my argument?”

My audience with one voice assured me that I was perfectly intelligible, and that they were following me with the greatest interest.

“I may be a trifle long-winded in dealing with these points, but please remember that after pointing out a danger or giving a piece of advice, I have to show how the danger may be met, by explaining the answering move.

“To proceed,—whichever of you has made the first advance, you are now within striking distance.

“If you are absolutely ignorant of sword-play, like the unfortunate duellist whose case we were considering last night, I have already told you what in my opinion you can do, or at least may attempt to do. I have nothing more to say on that head.

“The opponents that we now have in view are supposed to have a knowledge of the use of weapons. It follows that the questions to be considered will naturally resemble those that we have already discussed when talking of theoretical sword-play and more particularly of the assault. The only difference is the difference between a sham fight and a real fight, the difference between a muzzled foil and an unmuzzled sword. Besides that, in an assault you are governed by conventional restrictions clearly defined and well understood; you do not attempt to hit your opponent except in accordance with the rules; you wear a mask and a jacket.

“But the mistakes which you are most anxious to avoid in an assault are the very things that you try to turn to account in a fight, in order to perplex your opponent and spoil his game. For fencing, if the professors will allow me to say so, is perhaps the one art in which mistakes may upon occasion prove of the greatest possible advantage to him who makes them. Otherwise it would be mere bookwork, to be learnt more or less thoroughly, and the man who knew his book completely would have nothing to fear; but to my mind it is nothing of the sort. No knowledge of fencing can make a man invulnerable. If anyone imagines that he is an exception to the rule he betrays a singularly misplaced confidence in his own powers,—a very dangerous error.

“But ought we to condemn swordsmanship on that account? My own opinion is that this uncertainty is the great beauty of the sword, the one feature that distinguishes it as the only weapon for a fair fight; for even the weakest player has his opportunity, his lucky moments, his strokes of fortune, which must always prevent the duel from degenerating into simple butchery.

“If fencing were an exact science, if you knew, that as sure as two and two make four, you could certainly hit your man, and that he as certainly could not hit you, how could you in common honesty cross swords with him?

VI.

“I am afraid that I have been wandering somewhat from my text; but this digression, though it may at first sight seem out of place, still when one comes to consider it is very closely connected with our subject. For it serves to emphasise once more the fact that, in spite of every probability, luck may always turn the scale in favour of the other side, and to remind you that you cannot attach too much importance to the most minute particulars of your defence.

“Habitual mistrust is one of the most necessary requirements for this complicated art. Put in another way it is the careful study of the enemy whom you have to face. The mistrust that marks the wary, calculating player, not only preserves him from danger but creates dangers for his opponent.

VII.

“I was saying the other day that I did not believe in secret thrusts, and that the thrusts that have received this absurd misnomer are nothing but strokes that are not generally recognised by the ordinary rules of fencing. Strip them of their imaginary terrors, and far from being dangerous to you they become more than a little dangerous for the man who attempts them.

“To describe them, we need not distinguish more than two sorts,—methods of attack, and methods of evading or dodging an opponent’s attack. These tricks are all very much of the same character. Take this for an example:—lunge as though you were making a simple attack, then suddenly draw your arm back to make your opponent parry in the air, throw yourself out of line and let drive, hitting him in the ribs.

“Or again:—after a false attack, dodge by stooping low to avoid the parry and riposte, and hit your opponent in the low lines. The sudden disappearance of your body will probably astonish him.

“Some men delight in charging at you with a shout, at the same time drawing back their arm to avoid your parry. This strange war-cry occasionally has the effect of causing a moment’s involuntary pause, of which they take advantage to drive their point home anyhow and anywhere.

“Others again, when the blades are engaged in tierce, suddenly bring their left foot to the front, at the same time swinging the body round, left shoulder forward and out of line with your point.

“If on the other hand these strokes, which if not foul are decidedly irregular, are employed to meet an attack, the same thing is done with slight variations. Suppose I deliver an attack; my opponent, instead of parrying, springs aside out of line. Sword and body vanish; the target has moved away; my attack loses itself in space, and I am hit by a flank movement.

“Or again, he ducks suddenly, supporting himself on his free hand, and allows my point to pass harmlessly over his head, while at the same time he hits me somewhere,—in the low lines of course.

“Or again, he seizes my blade in tierce, swings the left foot round to the front, suddenly arrives at close quarters, and before I have time either to retreat or to recover my guard, stabs me by drawing back or dropping his hand.

“I might extend this list of examples indefinitely, but you see that all these strokes are contrived on the same plan, and only differ from each other in unimportant details. It needs no argument to prove how completely the man who resorts to such tactics gives himself away if they are unsuccessful, for in order to make them really formidable there must be no hanging back,—you must let yourself go without the least reserve.”

VIII.

“But surely,” someone objected, “in the hands of a skilful swordsman they would be doubly dangerous?”

“That contingency,” I replied, “is worth considering, but a skilful swordsman would be very unlikely to resort to such methods. Why should he? If his opponent is a duffer, he has no need to be so tricky. If on the other hand his opponent is a cool-headed fencer, as skilful as himself, he knows the penalty of failure too well to make the attempt.

“I need hardly tell you,—though I believe I have mentioned the fact already,—that when you attack you ought to be particularly careful not to let yourself go so completely that you cannot recover your defensive position, if your attack fails.

“All these remarks illustrate how necessary it is to distrust your enemy, to approach a strange antagonist with caution, and always keep him at a distance. By retreating the moment you come on guard you have already provided against a surprise and against wild rushes. When you are within range, take my advice and do not join blades, and always, as much as possible, avoid coming to such close quarters that your opponent can reach you without breaking ground. But do not misunderstand me when I tell you not to join blades. I do not mean that you are never to cover yourself, and never to allow the blades to meet; that would be a mistake. All that I mean is that you should take care never to allow your opponent to hold your blade. By playing light and refusing a proffered engagement you put a stop to all forcing strokes,—croisÉs, beats, binds, flanconnade,—which are the most dangerous of all strokes, because they are the most certain. I call them certain, because by holding your blade prisoner they control it forcibly, and make a stop thrust or an exchange of hits impossible.

IX.

“There are of course several ways of dealing with a man who refuses to engage, but they are difficult and require much practice. It generally happens that your refusal disconcerts your opponent. He has no definite point to start from, he hesitates, and his hesitation retards his attack.

“If his attack is complicated, you may venture on a stop thrust, offered with caution and accompanied by a short step to the rear; and you worry, and annoy, and wear him out to the best of your ability.

“If his attack is simple, he will be afraid of an exchange of hits; and the more skilful he is, the more cautious you will find him; and as I said when speaking of the assault, you may lessen the danger of a simple attack by a brisk retreat to a greater or less distance, as the case may be. By this means you parry more easily, you increase the distance to be traversed, and you counteract the rapidity of the attack by two methods of defence instead of one.

“If you are hit, the wound is slight, or at all events much less severe than it would have been, if you had tried to parry without breaking ground. If on the other hand your parry is successful, you have escaped the danger of a corps À corps, and are in a better position for delivering your riposte.

“So much for the defence, now let us suppose that you are the attacking party. You attack, either because you place more reliance on the quickness of your hand than on the certainty of your riposte, or because your opponent, by confining himself to defensive tactics, compels you to do so. You must be doubly cautious now.

X.

“If it is important, as I have just now pointed out, to avoid engaging blades when you are acting on the defensive, in order to protect yourself from what may be called attacks on the sword, it is obviously of equal importance never to attack without first attempting to master your opponent’s fort.

“Eschew feints;—I have shown you how dangerous they are—therefore be content with direct attacks, prefacing them with an engagement in carte or tierce, or with a pressure, or a beat, light or heavy, accordingly as you wish to draw your opponent to one line or another. Your object will be gained more easily, if he is willing to join blades.

“If on the other hand he is unwilling to do so, you must by force or fraud bring him to an engagement, and you should never finish your attack until you have succeeded in finding his blade; unless in his efforts to elude you he leaves himself completely exposed. When that happens a straight thrust is a certainty.

“What you have most to fear is a stop thrust, the straightening of your opponent’s arm on your preparation or advance. This is generally a favourite stroke with those who deliberately stand on the defensive.

“In nine cases out of ten the refusal to join blades may be successfully met by a simulated attack, if it is well marked. Either your opponent attempts to parry, or he straightens his arm; whereupon you immediately engage his blade, and drive your attack home, without quitting his blade, and above all without any feint.

XI.

“It is evidently impossible to enumerate in the course of conversation all the situations that may occur, or to describe all the traps that you may set for your opponent or that he may set for you. These things are matters of instinct and inspiration, the happy thoughts of the moment, and depend on character and individual temperament, physical and moral. The art of fighting cannot of course be learnt in a day; it grows upon you gradually, as you learn by experience to combine the various elements scientifically into a well-ordered whole.

“Picture for yourselves two men fighting.—You see them at one moment standing their full height, the next bent double, swerving to right and left, colliding violently, and entangled in a furious encounter; suddenly they break away, recoiling from each other with a bound, rest for a moment, panting and glaring, till suddenly they renew the struggle. Do you suppose that all these intricate evolutions, and the subtle application of muscular force that they imply, can be systematically analysed and taught? Of course not.

“In every art proficiency can only be obtained by persistent and intelligent application. Practice alone makes perfect. It is by studying combinations, by trying to adapt the means at his disposal to the object in view, that the artist tests the limits of his art and discovers its hidden secrets, fashions it at will, and makes it his obedient slave.

“These remarks would not be complete, if I failed to caution you against a very pernicious habit, which one is apt to contract in the fencing-room, and which in a duel may easily lead to a fatal issue. I mean the habit of stopping after you have made a hit, instead of immediately recovering your guard and putting yourself out of distance. Never forget this important point; if you do, you may after wounding your opponent receive a mortal wound, for which you will have only yourself to blame.

“Every fencer knows how commonly it happens in an assault, that a man ripostes automatically after he is hit, and strikes his opponent almost simultaneously, especially when the latter has not taken the trouble to attend strictly to his recovery.

“Remember that a sword-thrust, even though it be mortal, does not take effect immediately. There is always a momentary interval before the wounded man falters, or drops his sword, or falls to the ground unconscious. The moment you think you have made a hit,—for you may be mistaken,—get back as smartly as you can, and be ready to go on fighting.

XII.

“Well,” I added after a short pause, “nothing else occurs to me in the way of general advice, which I can commend to your notice. When the time for actual fighting arrives, your attention must be concentrated on the important points, and these may be summed up in two or three words:—self-reliance, well-judged caution, restrained and well-timed energy.”

“You have given us most excellent advice,” exclaimed the Comte de C. “If one could only think of it all at the critical moment, one would be well provided.”

“Think of only half of it,” I answered, “and you will not do so badly,—there are so many men who cannot think at all.”

XIII.

The next day we all met as usual in the smoking-room.

“Well,” someone asked me, “what are you going to talk about to-night?”

“Why,” I answered, “my subject is exhausted, I have told you all I know, or at any rate all that I think worth knowing.”