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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.”

“Well,” I replied, “I have stated what I believe to be the rights of the case, on which either combatant can fairly insist. I will now give you my reasons.

“Your opponent, you say, is done; well, perhaps he may be, but have you considered why? Is not his fatigue due to the violence and the excessive energy with which he began the fight, to the regardless eagerness with which he has assailed you, without consulting his staying powers or husbanding his strength? You have had to bear the brunt of all this fury, you have sustained incessant attacks, but you with more skill have economised your resources and have bided your time to attack him. That opportune moment evidently comes just when your opponent, exhausted by the failure of his repeated attacks, is likely to offer you the least resistance.

“Then what happens? He calls for a halt! And are you to let him off without pressing the advantage that you with your judgment and self-restraint have held in reserve? Are you to give him leave to recover his wind, that is to say to recover his strength and rally his scattered forces, in order that he may start afresh to make a second onset with the same ardour and the same violence as before? The danger that you have safely encountered once may prove too much for you the second time. How does that strike you? Surely it is as though a man, engaged in a duel with pistols, in which each party is at liberty to fire when he chooses, were to be in too great hurry to let fly at his opponent, and then, when his barrels were emptied and useless, were to ask permission to reload, before he has received his opponent’s fire.

III.

“Situations requiring nerve and self-control undoubtedly occur in a duel with pistols, but similar situations, more trying and more critical, occur in a duel with swords. You are willing to admit them in the one case, yet you refuse to admit them in the other.”

“But, after all,” persisted my critic, “you can hardly strike a man, who is so utterly done that he can hardly keep his point up.”

“Quite true; but do you feel that hesitation, when you raise your pistol to fire on a man who has emptied his barrels? Do you not say, and with perfect justice, ‘I have stood his fire, it is his turn now to stand mine’? Yet the cases are strictly parallel. In each case you have taken the risk and have escaped unhurt, and the empty pistol in your opponent’s hand is more completely spent than a sword in a hand that is nerveless from fatigue. For no power can recharge the pistol with the ball that has sped, but on the contrary a man with a sword in his hand may possibly by a supreme effort pull himself together, and dangerous to the last strike you before you can strike him.

“But here, as usual, fashion refuses to be logical, and the sentiment of chivalry, which we look for in all right-minded men, does not nowadays allow us to make use of an advantage, which some day or other, perhaps in precisely identical circumstances, may very likely be claimed without scruple.

IV.

“There is, by the way, another argument which I remember was once put to me by a friend, and which struck me forcibly at the time.

“My friend, who is something of a scholar, and has not forgotten his Latin, quoted these lines from Virgil:—

“These verses describe the fighting qualities of two heroes, who are about to enter the ring.

“No one, I suppose, would seriously maintain that they ought to be handicapped, that one of them should be made to concede some points in which he is superior, that is to say some of the chances in his favour, while the other retains all that he can muster. And yet can we not easily imagine two men meeting to fight a duel, one of whom has in his favour every chance but one, advantage of reach, dexterity, speed, and swordsmanship, while the other relies only on sound condition and great staying power?

“In an unequal combat such as this, what can the latter do but tire his opponent out, get him thoroughly well blown, and so reduce the balance of advantage, which until then tells with full force against him? The other man who thereupon calls for a truce is practically asking his antagonist to forgo his superiority of sound wind and limb, while he, so far from giving up his own advantages of reach, dexterity, and science, has every intention of making the most of them when the fight begins afresh.

“Then again, the staying power which you handicap, is very likely derived from a well developed chest which incidentally offers a larger target to the adverse point; the greater vigour may be due to the fact that its owner is thick-set, with heavy muscular limbs which make his movements slow and ponderous. Why recognise the inequality of the match in the one case, and disregard it in the other?

V.

“Suppose, added my friend, that the question is discussed by the seconds before the fight begins. One side might say:—‘If our man is tired or blown, you will have no objection, we presume, to allowing a short interval?’ ‘We cannot agree to that,’ the other side would reply. ‘The only chance we have of making an even fight of it is that our man should outstay yours.’

“If they insist, the answer is this:—‘Your man has every acquired advantage, ours has only the one advantage of superior physique. If we are to give up our points, you must forfeit yours, and how can you?’—Some arguments are so one-sided.

“In conclusion, I think that such questions may very properly be debated between the seconds, but that they ought never to come to the ears of the principals, for one of them might seem to be asking a favour, which the other would have a perfect right to refuse.

“I feel that I have dwelt on this matter at great length, but I was anxious to sift it thoroughly, because it is of vital importance and has often given rise to a serious conflict of opinions. I have tried to give you the rights of the case in a strictly impartial spirit. Exceptional cases may occur, to which the rule cannot be applied without hardship, but such circumstances, as for example the bad health or feeble constitution of one of the combatants, should be provided for by arrangement.”

VI.

“One more question, please,” continued the Comte de C., “just to complete my cross-examination. When a man is called out, can he be required to fight two duels with two opponents in succession?”

“No, that cannot be expected of him. The man who has fought once ought to be treated as a privileged person, and cannot in any case be compelled to cross swords a second time. Tired as he is, or as he may be by the first encounter, he stands at a disadvantage in meeting a fresh antagonist. A second encounter, if it cannot be avoided and if both sides consent, ought not to take place until the next day, or after an interval of at least some hours, unless the party interested, that is to say the man who has already fought, requests that it may take place at once.

“But on no account should the man, who at a later stage may probably or possibly become a principal, witness the first encounter either as a simple spectator or as a second. For the mere fact of his presence gives him a real and indisputable advantage, especially if the duel is fought with swords. And then the first law of the duel,—that it should be a fair fight with no favour,—is broken.

“There is one case and strictly speaking only one, in which his presence is permissible. That is, when being the party injured and therefore having the choice of weapons he selects different weapons from those employed in the first encounter,—pistols for example, if the former fight was with swords, or swords if it was fought with pistols. But, I repeat, this can only be allowed, if the man who has already fought wishes it or consents to it freely. In any other circumstances if I were acting second on an occasion of this sort, I should refuse to countenance a duel which I should consider equally irregular and unfair.

VII.

“Take the question on its merits. In a duel with swords there are two things you want to know: first, what is your opponent’s natural temper, when he is fighting in earnest; secondly, what is the character of his play and the quality of his swordsmanship. No one can deny that it is very advantageous to know, whether the man that you have to face is impatient and excitable or self-possessed and cool; whether he will attack you with resolution or play a waiting game; whether he will attempt to parry or simply offer his point; whether he is energetic or the reverse, skilful or clumsy, an ugly customer or not particularly formidable. The fact of your presence at a previous encounter is sufficient by itself to give you information on all these heads. You are reassured and reinforced; undisturbed by doubt and hesitation you can mature your plans at leisure with a quiet mind. You have been over the ground and know how the land lies. Even if you have not the vaguest notion of fencing, if your ignorance is so complete that you are not in a position to make the best use of all this valuable information, still the fact that you have been a spectator of the first fight, apart from any conclusions you may draw, robs of its imaginary terrors the great unknown, and shows you what you have to do.

“Your antagonist on the contrary has everything to learn. He does not know whether you are skilful or incompetent; whether he ought to attack you or to wait for your attack; whether your nerves are shaky or firm; whether you are naturally cool or excitable. He is in the dark, a stranger feeling his way in a new country. You, meanwhile, having no need to waste time on such deliberations, go to work at once, with every probability of winning an easy victory.

“Therefore, just as in the case of the man who is at a disadvantage in point of science and practice, but superior in bodily strength, soundness of wind, and condition, I maintained that he has as much right to make full use of those advantages as his opponent has to use those which he possesses, so in the situation we are now considering, I maintain that we must refuse to allow anything that goes to handicap the combatants, or tends to incline the scales unfairly on one side rather than the other.

“It may be that some of the considerations, that I have put forward, have not occurred to you before. But now, bearing them in mind, can you say that you really and truly believe that such a fight as this is a fair fight, or that you would consent to have anything to do with it?

“I think that I have said everything that I had to say on the duties of seconds, as they appear to me in the light of my own experience and of the history of the subject. To-morrow we will discuss a still more important matter, the methods to be adopted by the principals.”