"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.