I have omitted to mention that in compliance with the regulations
I had been obliged, before being taken to the prison, to hand over
to my Sergeant-major whatever money or jewellery I had at the time.
Accordingly I handed over to Sergeant-major Vaillant my gold watch and
chain, £30 in bank-notes, and two valuable rings, only keeping with me
a few pounds in gold and silver, which I carefully hid. The day before
I was to leave prison, the Sergeant-major came to see me, and explained
that as he was going away on leave he wanted to give me back my
belongings. This he did, and he further reminded me that he owed me a
long-standing gambling debt of £5, and this he also handed over to me.
He added that he might be a long time away, and that I could render him
a great service by lending him some civilian clothes. He had allowed
me to keep in his room a suit of clothes and an overcoat, and I told
him that he was very welcome to them. I also offered to lend him some
money, and suggested his paying me the gambling debt on his return;
but he absolutely refused to accept either offer. He then bade me
good-bye, and I thought no more of the matter until a week later, when
de Lanoy having come to see me in hospital, startled me by saying that
Sergeant-major Vaillant had deserted, having absconded the day before I
left prison, and that he was further accused by the Captain of having
stolen 31 francs from the moneys belonging to the squadron. I assured
de Lanoy that it was quite impossible that Vaillant should have stolen
the money, and I told him how he had repaid me the large amount I had
entrusted him with, and even £5 that he owed me, and de Lanoy agreed
with me that if 32 francs (about 25_s._) was missing from the squadron
money it was a pure mistake, and not a theft. The following day Captain
Hermann, who, as will be remembered, was in command of our squadron,
came to the hospital and walked to my bed.
"I am afraid, Decle," he began, "that you are going to find yourself
in Queer Street. You probably know that Sergeant-major Vaillant has
deserted, but I should like to know if you are aware that he has run
off with money belonging to the squadron, and that he has further
stolen your civilian clothes?"
"Yes, sir," I said, "I heard that Sergeant-major Vaillant had deserted,
but he has not stolen my clothes, for the good reason that I lent them
to him; and I don't believe either that he has stolen any money from
the squadron."
"Just so," said the Captain; "what you have told me fully confirms my
information. You have helped the Sergeant-major to desert, and you have
given him £30 to help him to do so."
I grew indignant. "I do not know, sir," I replied, "where you derived
your information from. Far from having received money from me, the
Sergeant-major came to me while I was in prison and returned the £30 I
had entrusted him with, together with my jewellery, when I was sent to
prison, so that you see that you have been quite misinformed."
"It's all very well for you to say so," replied the Captain, "but I
have only your word for it, while I have distinct information that you
lent him £30, and that further he stole your clothes, and that you did
not lend them to him. Of course you must remember that, if it is proved
that you lent the Sergeant-major the money I have mentioned, you will
be court-martialled as an accessory to his desertion. If you want,
however, to avoid the serious consequences of your act, I am prepared
to overlook it provided that you swear that Sergeant-major Vaillant
has stolen your clothes."
"I am sorry I cannot do so, sir," I replied, "as that would be
committing perjury. I have previously lent the Sergeant-major my
clothes on several occasions, and I also lent them to him in the
present instance. As to being court-martialled for having lent him
£30, I am in no way afraid of the consequences, for I can prove by
my solicitor's account that I did not lend him the money, unless
I stole it myself. In fact," I added, "I can produce at once the
very bank-notes he handed over to me." And so saying, I pulled my
pocket-book from under the pillow, and showed the Captain the money.
"Oh," he said, "I know you've got money, but that does not prove that
you did not lend the £30. However, you can please yourself; I have
warned you, and whatever happens will be your own fault."
"Yes, sir," I answered, "I fully understand."
The Captain retired, but a quarter of an hour later he returned and
insisted upon my swearing that the Sergeant-major had stolen my
clothes. He even went so far as to promise me, or at least to make me
understand, that if I pleased him in the matter, he would see that I
was released from the regiment after the following examination. But
I was obdurate, and frankly told the Captain that I quite understood
his motives, and realised why he was so anxious that I should give
testimony as to the theft of my clothes, for otherwise he would not be
able to obtain Vaillant's extradition from whatever country he might
have taken refuge in, and I once more declared that whatever might be
the consequences I would not commit perjury.
The Captain retired in great wrath. The following day the doctor told
me that I would have to be at the _gendarmerie_ at two o'clock.
When I arrived there I found an old Corporal of the _gendarmes_ sitting
at a table, with another _gendarme_ standing near him. He asked for my
name, regimental number, and, as usual in France, I had also to give
him full particulars about my father and mother. Having taken all this
down, he told me to put up my right hand, and to swear to tell the
truth and nothing but the truth. Having thus administered the oath to
me he began to question me.
"You had a suit of civilian clothes?" he first asked.
"Well," I replied, "I had, and still have, a good many."
"Why do you have a good many?"
"Because I did not always wear the same suit."
"But you had a suit of clothes which has been stolen from you by the
Sergeant-major Vaillant?"
"No," I said, "I have had no suit of clothes stolen from me. I lent
Sergeant-major Vaillant a suit of clothes, if that is what you are
driving at."
"What!" exclaimed the _gendarme_, evidently much astonished, "how can
you say that Sergeant-major Vaillant did not steal a suit of clothes
from you when your Captain says he did!"
"I don't know what the Captain says," I replied, "and what he says does
not concern me. I am here on my oath, I have sworn to tell the truth,
and all you have to do is to take down my words."
"What am I to do?" said the old Corporal, turning helplessly to his
subordinate. "This is a most serious matter. How on earth can I write
down that a Dragoon swears that he has had no clothes stolen when his
Captain says they have been stolen! That is what discipline has come
to nowadays," he went on. "When I was in the Guards, if my Captain had
said to me, 'Bouchard, some one has stolen your clothes,' I should have
said, 'Yes, sir!' But now, if the Colonel himself were to say to a
trooper, 'You're a nigger,' the fellow would reply that he was a white
man. And these are the men who are going to lick the Prussians! It
breaks my old heart to see such goings on."
"Corporal," I insisted, "whether you like it or not you will have
to write down what I say. If you won't I shall decline to sign the
declaration, and shall state in writing the reason for my refusal."
"I think you had better take down what he says," suggested the
_gendarme_, and the Corporal, with a sigh, proceeded to write out my
deposition.
I gave a full account of all I knew about the matter, pointing out that
my Sergeant-major had, before leaving, returned a large sum of money
I had entrusted to him; finally, having read my deposition through
carefully, I signed it.
When the old _gendarme_ learned incidentally that I had been in prison,
he turned to his subordinate and cried exultingly, "Of course he has!
Of course! I knew all along he was a bad un!"
And after I had signed the declaration he could not refrain from a
farewell shot. "Now, youngster," he said impressively, "mark my words,
for I don't make a mistake often--you'll come to a bad end. It's always
the case with fellows who don't respect their betters. You begin with
the regimental prison; then, when your time is up, you soon get a
month or two, then a year, and it's not long before you are sent to La
Nouvelle,[43] and, if you don't get a 'lifer,' it's ten to one 'The
Widow'[44] ends your days."
With these encouraging words the _gendarme_ dismissed me, and the
Sergeant took me back to the hospital, chaffing me unmercifully all the
way.
I soon discovered that the Captain had only threatened me with a
court-martial in order to try and induce me to place documents in
his hands which would enable him to obtain an extradition warrant
against Vaillant, who was known to have taken refuge in Belgium. My
deposition defeated his object, but I afterwards heard that two years
later Vaillant surrendered, and was only sentenced to twelve months'
imprisonment.
The charge against him of stealing money belonging to the squadron was
withdrawn, my testimony showing that he had no inducement to commit a
petty theft.
When I left the hospital I entered once more on my duties with the
other _Volontaires_, but although I did my best to avoid punishments,
I was a "marked man." I had the misfortune, too, of being senior
_Volontaire_, so that whenever we were left without Sergeant or
Corporal in the schoolroom I was held responsible in case the others
caused a disturbance or indulged in horseplay.
One Saturday--kit inspection day--I discovered, when I returned from
the stables in the morning, that my great-coat had been stolen. It
was the only article of outfit of which I had no duplicate, and after
searching for it throughout the room I could not find it. I reported
the matter to de Lanoy, my Sergeant, and he promised that when all the
great-coats were unrolled before the inspection he would carefully
examine the numbers. Although he did this he was, however, unable
to trace it. When the officer came to pass the inspection, de Lanoy
duly reported the matter to him, but the Lieutenant merely said that
I had no business to have my great-coat stolen, and gave me eight
days' _Salle de Police_. I was determined to find the thief, and after
making careful inquiries, I learnt by accident that a trooper from the
fourth squadron had been through our room while we were at morning
stables. I heard this while we were coming back from afternoon stables,
and I accordingly rushed to the fellow's room, and pulling down the
great-coat which was rolled up and placed on the shelf above his bed,
I unrolled it, and found that it was my own. Just then the trooper, a
Parisian rough, came into the room, and asked me with a volley of oaths
what the devil I was doing there. I was in no mood to stand abuse, and
I replied in forcible language that he was a thief, and had stolen my
great-coat. Thereupon he struck at me, and we had a fierce fight. Twice
he knocked me down, and the second time he kicked me viciously before I
could rise: we had closed once more, and I had given him a blow which
made his teeth rattle, when the Sergeant-major of his squadron, hearing
the disturbance, walked into the room. He separated us, and gave each
of us four days' _Salle de Police_ for fighting in the room. I tried to
explain to him what had taken place, but he would not listen to me, and
sent me back to my room, where I retired--with my great-coat.
The following day the Colonel ordered "that the troopers Gerbal and
Decle, who had fought in the room, would fight a duel on the Monday
morning in the riding-school."
I have omitted to mention that all troopers at the end of six months
had to spend one hour every week in the fencing school, where they
were taught fencing with the sword and the foils. A good many of the
_Volontaires_ used also to take extra lessons, and, for my own part, I
used to take one daily. The moment I heard that I was to fight a duel
on the following day, I went to the fencing-master to ask his advice.
He told me that we should have to fight with cavalry swords, not,
however, of the kind we were accustomed to use, but with old-fashioned
swords of the 1810 pattern. He produced one of these--I had never seen
such an unwieldy weapon. The blade was about four feet long, and when
you held the sword in your hand, it was so badly balanced that all
the weight seemed to be thrown towards the point. The fencing-master
explained to me that in regimental duels all strokes were legitimate
from the head down to the knee. He then made me practise with the sword
in question, but although I was a pretty good fencer, I confess that I
was at first absolutely at sea with the weapon I had in my hand. In the
evening I took an extra lesson, and got a little more accustomed to the
use of the cumbrous sword.
[Illustration: A DUEL IN THE RIDING-SCHOOL]
The encounter was to take place at 10 A.M. Each of us had selected
a second, and we were told to come to the riding-school in stable
costume, being allowed to use whatever shoes we liked. When I arrived
with my second I found the two doctors present, with half a dozen
officers and the fencing-master, who had brought the swords. We were
told to strip to the waist, our weapons were handed over to us, and
the fencing-master, having put us on guard, stood between us, holding
in his hand a scabbard with which he was supposed to stop any deadly
stroke. My adversary was a regular bully, and of course a coward, and
had imbibed a large quantity of brandy to brace himself up, and when we
were placed in position I noticed that he was flushed, and that he was
shaking all over. His second, noticing the state he was in, whispered
to him, "Buck up, old man; don't be afraid."
"Afraid," he replied aloud, "I ain't afraid: it's the cold that gives
me the shivers."
He was sharply rebuked and warned that he must remain silent. The
fencing-master then released our swords, which he held crossed, and
gave us the signal "Go." I made a few feints and could have easily
touched my opponent, but I meant to inflict a serious injury on the
ruffian, and did not take advantage of the chances he gave me. The
beginning of the duel was rather a farce, as the fellow kept jumping
back whenever I made a feint, and at the end of a minute or two he had
already retreated ten paces. The fencing-master ordered us to stop,
and warned him that if he went on retreating in that way he would
stick him in a corner. We were then placed once more in position, and
the second round began. My adversary showed a little more pluck this
time, and the moment the signal was given he made a cut at my head,
but I easily parried it, and in doing so my sword slightly scratched
his arm; we had closed, and I was watching the moment when he would
step back, to slip my sword alongside his and with a "_une, deux_" to
stick him in the ribs. Just then, however, his second noticed a drop
of blood on his arm, and the duel was once more stopped. The doctor
came forward to examine the "wound," but he declared that it was just a
scratch, and that we must go on. My adversary raised strong objections
to this decision, saying that the duel being _au premier sang_ (to be
stopped the moment blood was drawn), and blood having been drawn, he
acknowledged that he was beaten, and that ought to put an end to it, as
he was not at all keen to bleed me. The officers, the fencing-master,
and even his second could not help laughing, and the fencing-master,
without replying, placed us once more in position, and for the third
time gave us the signal "Go!" I was getting very tired, the weight of
the sword telling heavily on my wrist, and I determined to put a speedy
end to the encounter. I made a series of quick feints, and as the man
uncovered himself well I quickly raised my sword to strike him a _coup
de flanc_ which would have cut him along the chest from the shoulder
to the waist; seeing this the fencing-master put up his scabbard to
stop the blow, and instead of striking the man, my sword fell on the
fencing-master's scabbard, and just as the fencing-master cried "Halt!"
my adversary, taking advantage of my defenceless position, stuck the
point of his sword in my wrist. The duel was at once stopped, and I
dropped my sword, my fingers becoming instantly benumbed.
The doctor bandaged my arm and sent me to the dispensary. It was
of course a cowardly act, deliberately done, but the same thing
constantly happens in military duels, and even when the two adversaries
fight quite fairly. Good fencers have hardly any chance, as the
fencing-master, who is responsible for the conduct of the duel, has to
stop any strokes which may possibly endanger the life of one of the
adversaries, and when he stops the sword of one of them, the other may
not stop in time, and he thus wounds the first. In my case things were
still worse, as my adversary had deliberately struck me while I was
incapable of defending myself, my sword resting on the fencing-master's
scabbard. I must, however, acknowledge that the officers who were
present at the duel reported what had taken place, and the ruffian with
whom I had been fighting was punished with thirty days' prison. Had I
been fairly wounded I should have had eight days' _Salle de Police_
myself for having fought a duel under orders, as in my time it was
customary to punish the wounded man, absurd as this may appear.
Military duels are certainly a most ridiculous custom, as ridiculous
indeed as Parliamentary duels. It is well known beforehand that neither
of the adversaries will be seriously hurt, and therefore the point of
fighting at all seems obscure. The idea is, I believe, that duelling
acts as a deterrent to fights between soldiers--Frenchmen, like most
citizens of the other Continental nations, considering the use of
fists a low and degrading way of settling a quarrel. Duels between
officers are also frequent, but they can only fight if they hold the
same rank; for instance, no Captain can fight a duel with a Lieutenant,
nor can a Major challenge a Captain. Officers must in any case obtain
their Colonel's leave to fight. No officer, challenged by one of
his comrades, would dare to refuse to fight; if he did so, he would
probably be severely punished by the Colonel and sent to Coventry by
his comrades.
When I reached the dispensary my wound was thoroughly washed. It was
only then that it began to hurt me; when the sword penetrated my wrist
I did not feel it in the least, the only sensation I had being that of
sudden numbness in the fingers. On examination, the wound proved more
serious than it had appeared at first, several of the tendons having
been severed. I was therefore detained at the infirmary, and after a
couple of days inflammation set in, this being due, I believe, to the
fact that during one of the stoppages which had occurred in the course
of the duel my adversary had stuck his sword in the ground. It must
also be remembered that antiseptics were not known then as they are
now, so that my wound had only been washed with a solution of salt and
water. This duel (if such a name can be given to such a farce) was, I
may add, the first and the last I ever fought or shall fight. It seems
incredible that such an absurd custom should subsist among civilised
nations. It is due, I suppose, to the lack of means of redress found
in the Continental laws in case of slander or libel. In France, for
instance, men in a prominent position are daily insulted and dragged
through the mire by unscrupulous journalists (some newspapers making
it even a speciality to get hold of society scandals and subsisting
upon the hush-money they extort from their victims), yet it is very
seldom that action is taken in the courts. It is no exaggeration to say
that there are hundreds of men in France who would each have recovered
damages amounting to at least one million sterling if all the libels
which have appeared against them in the French papers within the last
ten years had been published in the English press and brought before a
British jury. As it is, £20 damages are considered very substantial.
This may partly explain why duelling still exists.
FOOTNOTES:
[43] New Caledonia, where convicts sentenced to _travaux forcés_ (penal
servitude) are sent.
[44] The guillotine.