FRENCH DUELLING.

Lyttelton Times, Volume LXXX, Issue 10099, 26 July 1893, Page 2

FRENCH DUELLING .

(Cleveland Moffett in an American paper.) The French duel of to-day, as fought by such expert shots and swordsmen as Clemencoau, Paul de Cassagnae, the Marquis de Mores (who killed a man only the other day, and is game to kill more), Henry Rochefort, Aureliau .Scholl, Paul Deroulede and scores of others, is a very serious matter.

The day before Clomenceau’s recent duel with Paul Deroulede, the fiery poet of “La Revanche,” the maker and breaker c£ Ministries scored twenty bulls’ eyes in succession, and his hand was as steady as the Vendome column. The same afternoon, in shooting at the mannequin or stuffed human figure, M. Clemencoau landed hia bullets at will in heart or head, right arm or left arm, at a distance of thirty metros, and yet the next day when they came to fight he missed his man entirely three times in succession, so great is the difference between firing for fun and in earnest. TWO NOTED CHARACTERS. To look at M. Clameaceau when practising before the targets, or rather before he begins to practise, one would rather take him for an inoffensive counterjumper than a fire-eating politician. He is short in stature, very bald, with shifting brown eyes, and a nervous way of palling at hia gray moustache. When he begins to run up hia score of bull’s eyes, however, one's feelings of respect grow apace. M. Paul Deroulede, his adversary* is very tall, of awkward, angular build, With sharp eyes over a nose which is hie most prominent feature, and-has the genuine Roman curve. He always wears a long, green coat while practising, and presents a somewhat ridiculous appearance, being excitable to a degree, and gesturing wildly whenever hia shots are very good or very bad. The result of the duel Just referred to illustrates a well accepted proposition in affairs of this kind, that you can never tell how a maa will shoot in the light by the way he shoots before it. I remember a good illustration of this which happened about, three years ago. It was outbe occasion of the duet between Camille Dreyfus, a prominent deputy, and the Marquis do Mores, who considered himself ir.orte.lly insulted- Dreyfus was Justly regarded as one of the best pistol shots in Franca, and had been practising for weeks at Kenette’s gallery. His cartons were the admiration of every one, and rarely showed a hole outside the inner circle. The day befoio the duel Gastinne-Renette, who has a sort of intuitive Judgment in these things, watched M. Dreyfus shoot. “ HE IS SUEE TO KILL THE MARQUIS,” said a clubman, whoconsidercd himself an expert. “ He will not touch the Marquis,” answered the veteran teacher—and he was right. The duel, which was the talk of Paris, took place the next morning on the Belgian frontier. By a fortunate combination of circumstances I was able to be present at it, representing a New York daily. I remember the affair particularly, because I had brought a kodak along and photographed the duel while in progress. M. Lockroy, a Cabinet Minister, was chief second on one side, and Viscount Somebody on tbo other. Everyone was in full afternoon dress, white gloves, and so forth, and the affair was conducted with exquisite politeness. “ I don’t go in for fancy shooting, but I shall kill that fellow,” said De Mores, as he left hie seconds—-and be meant it. Finally all was arranged, after several tossings for choice, and the two principals and four seconds, with a doctor on either side, stood in their place like frozen chessmen. Everything was silent. Then came the command, given twice over : “ Are von ready ?” “Yes.” " Feu—un, deux, trois.” the words coming with the boat of the seemds. M. Dreyfus fired almost instantly with tbo word “ Feu.” He missed, and the marquis swung his weapon up to the level with the steady, automatic movement he had learned from western cowboys. He pressed the trigger at the word “ deux,” and the bullet went straight to tiio mark. It would have entered M. Dreyfus’ body on the right side at about the fifth rib, had not the latter after his own shot dropped his arm to his side and intercepted the missile Juffi above the elbow. That accident probable saved the deputy’s i’fe, BOTH MEN LEFT THE FIELD ANQBT, and I remember hearing de Mores complain

bitterly on the Journey back to Pavia that tiie regulation charge for powder was too small to kill at the prescribed distance, that is twenty metres. He emphasised the fact that hio ball had not even broken the bone of his adversary’s arm. There is no question but that certain precautions of this kind have been approved by general usage in Pariv, with the idea ot making a duel with pistols teas murderous. But for these end the fact already noticed, that experts in the gallery often cease to be such on the field, there would bo a terrible percentage of deaths in these encounters. Perhaps the most formidable pistol shot who visits Gaotimie-Renette'o gallery is the tempestuous orator Foul de Cassagnao, editor of tbo Imperialist organ, Iff Autorite. M. de Cesaagusc is formidable, to begin with, from his very looks. Ha stands over six feet, and. u broad and heavy in proportion, His swarthy skin and coal black hair and eyes tell of thohot southern blood which runs in his veins, and those who attack him or incur his displeasure are very apt to wish they had done something else. He looks like an Indian, talks like a flood-tioe, and fights like a cyclone. He has probably taken part in more duels than any man in France, and ia

ABSOLUTELY FEABLE33. One peculiarity about M. do Cassagnac’e method of firing is that ho never takes aim, or at leant not as other experts do. He gauges the line between his weapon and the mark in some such way as a baseball player aims the ball ho is throwing—seeing only tho mark. The consequence ia that, while not capable of such wonderful show feats a» r.v.iiy other patrons of the gallery, each re bitting a bird on tho wing, or shooting a fivo franc piece off his toe, M. do Cai‘«;agnnc, when is comes to tho pinch, always lands his bullet near enough to the mark <o tank. - * it exceedingly unpleasant for the other follow, and, wbatia of greater moment still, he ce:m:i to shoo; better in a duel than at any other time. “ 1 don’t pretend to split hairs with a pistol ball,” he told a vainglorious matksmm one day, “ but I can eplit hearts all right when it is necessary.” ETJCH A CYNICAL MAN 13 M, DE cAssagnac! One of the ino.H.. celebrated pistol shots in France, ar.d ft man who was often seen st Renette’o before Ida exile to London, was Henri Rochefort., the bitter paraph l.eteer who alone is able to dispute with M. do CuEsagEae for the palm among living duelists. When I call M. Rochefort, a cekbrated pistol shot 1 mean that ho is celebrated rather for his daring than for hia skill, which, as a matter of fact, i; not of tho highest order. The consideration however, has never held him back from meeting anyone who gave or found cause upon the Champs d’Honneur. He and M. do CasBagnac have been bitter enemies for years, aud mova than one challenge has passed between them. Twenty years ago they fmight for tha fiist time, the weapons bring pistole. Roche fort mifeed entirely, whetsnpoa da Cassagnac coolly planted hie bullet iu hio adversary’s left side, whore it struck an imago of the Virgin, giving K-ochefort a lease of life and a chance to crack one of Ins inimitable Jokes. A few yc.«a later Rochefort, maddened by the attacks of hio rival, challenged him to a duel dla mart, in which he proposed to stand at ten paces with pistols, only one of which should bs loaded. M. de Caseagiiac, for tho only time in hia life,refused to fight under such conditions. POKCBD TO FIGHT. Speaking of duels a la mart, I remember heating a blood-curdling account at Renette’s of an affair which the experts, in the gallery arc never tired of discussing. It. happened some years ago between two army officer;, one of them a coarse bully, the other a gentleman, and n man of profound. religions conviction. Tho latter was slapped in the face by the bully, but refused to challenge him, being opposed to duelling on principle. The insult had been so flagrant that hi; comrades at arms and even his superior officers urged and pleaded with him to challenge hia assailant and maintain tho dignity of his regiment. The man refused, and was scorned by all as a coward. Finally, driven to dn-rperatioa by treatment which cut him to the quick, for ho was a man of undoubted bravery, the officar consented to fight, but only on condition that tho distance be fixed at five yards and that only one of the pistols be loaded. It was h duel to the death! The time came, the officer who had been insulted having tho first choice, picked out his weapon without nervousness or hesitation and the bully took the piotol which was left. The word cfirne to fire, the bully pressed hia trigger and it was seen at once that fate had decided against him. There was no discharge, and he stood at the mercy of the man whose conscience had forbidden him to fight. Every one looking on expected that tho latter would fire in tho air. He did nothing of the sort. Levelling hia weapon without any show of emotion, ho fired, and the bullet crashed into the brain of hia enemy, who fell dead, a ghastly sight. Then the officer, having dipped his hand in the mass of blood and brains, wiped it on hia own cheek which had received the insulting blow, and then, turning to his companions, asked them if their honour and his had bseu sufficiently avenged. That same dsy he resigned his position in the army, and passed the rest of his life in a monastery.