This site requires Javascript to be turned on. Please enable Javascript and reload the page.

Black Republic of Letters

Note - Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve

Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve (1804-1869) was a French literary critic. Learn more about Ste-Beuve.

This page is referenced by:

"Fin de Siècle Things: Duels" Translation: Duels are in. One would think we were back in the seventeenth century. Never before have we seen such a series of encounters, of sending of witnesses, of negotiations and of official reports.

But our readers can rest assured! This will not be a vain discussion of principles. Everyone agrees that this barbaric custom is absurd, and yet there is not a man with blood in his veins who, given the chance, would not have a go at it. The practice has entered too deeply into custom for one to think seriously of destroying it any time soon.

Also, it is worth mentioning the progress that has taken place within the institution since the good old days of Pré-aux-Clercs. In that era, although duels had motives that were just as futile as today, they were themselves much more serious. Here is one, for example, whose dramatic account we can find in the memory of time. It is known that at the beginning of the Restoration in France, a heap of duels took place between the officers of the empire, discharged or on half-pay, and royalist officers.

The discharged colonel Barbier-Dufaï one day stripped a young officer of the bodyguard of a white cockade he had in his hat. A provocation naturally followed, and it was decided that this duel would be particularly serious.

The adversaries were put in a hansom cab, attached to each other, their right arms free and armed with a dagger. The cab drove around the Carrousel twice, with two witnesses seated on the coach's seat. All the while, the duellist were able to slash at each other at their leisure. When the cab was opened, the bodyguard was dead, riddled with horrible injuries. The colonel was a bit better; he had four dagger wounds in his chest, and the bottom of his face was minced, chewed up, devoured by his adversary.

It must not be supposed that all duel from that time were this tragic; some, conversely, were particularly comic. Take the famous duel of Ste-Beuve. As it was pouring rain, the famous critic would only fight sheltered under an umbrella. "I consent to being killed," he said, "but I do not want to be wet."

A curious book on the topic recently appeared in London. It gives us a most amusing anecdote on the subject, in which the insulter—as is unfortunately too often the case—is far from playing a winning role.

Doctor Young was in a rowboat on the Thames in the company of several ladies, and to pass the time pleasantly, he was playing the flute. A boat full of officers appeared on the scene. The good doctor stopped; but an officer called out to him and pressed him to keep playing or else he would be drowned.

Mr. Young did not argue; he continued playing; but once he had disembarked, he found his insulter and challenged him to a duel with épées without witnesses.

At the agreed time, the adversaries met up. Immediately, the doctor pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the officer. The latter cried out:

"What! Had we not agreed on a duel with épées?"

"Indeed, but first you will dance a minuet while I play on my flute... unless you want me to blow your brains out."

The officer had to comply. The session lasted a good quarter of an hour, after which the doctor calmly packed up his flute and left. That was the end of it.

These days, people brandish swords for any reason, and in particular for no reason; the duel is a publicity stunt. But as the fight for existence has become more pronounced, attachment to life seems to have become more rooted in man. This explains the nervous motions, the protective reflexes that are produced in certain duels. This one grabs his adversaries épée with one hand, while with the other he sinks his own harmlessly into the body; another finds an unmissable blow just as the command of "halt!" has dropped his antagonist's defences... My word, this may be understandable, since people no longer go on the terrain to kill, but to earn the right to brag about having had a "run in." Often two buddies will agree to make a report of an encounter that never happened even in their intentions.

But I would be remiss not to mention, in closing, the typical story of a duel that our compatriots... didn't have. A few days before returning to Haiti, M. B. found himself in the company of a lady in a buen-retiro. An older gentleman, similarly accompanied, was also present in the same room. Suddenly the ladies (flammable material) transformed the conversation they were having into a violent discussion. As they were threatening to come to blows, the older gentlemen intervened and took the side of his Ladylove. B. did likewise for his. In passing, the two knights in shining armour said harsh words, and the older of the two, deeply set off by one of the pricklier responses, cried out, shaking: "My nerves may have grown cold with age, but I still have enough strength to give you two pockets of iron in the stomach to teach you how to treat someone else's lady!" This said, he threw his card, and B. threw his as well, and the two cards crossed like épées in the air. They calmed down and drew apart. The old man left with his other half. B. appointed his witnesses; these arrived the next morning at the location indicated on the card; the man was nowhere to be found! Those gathered wrote up a proper report for Mr. B., who could boast of defeating an enemy without drawing blood.

May all duel resemble this one! At least then they would be good for something... entertaining the gallery.

This page references:

Ste-Beuve Image