A ONCE FAMOUS DUELLING GROUND

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19240, 29 November 1930, Page 31 (Supplement)

A ONCE FAMOUS DUELLING GROUND

NOW SERVES GOLFERS AS A PUTTING GREEN. When golf experts designed the municipal links in the New Orleans City Park, one of the prettiest putting greens in the country was planned to finish a course that scatters tees and bunkers over what was once tho Allard plantation. It is tho eighteenth green, the last stand of the game, writes Flo Field in the “New York Times.” The golfer, putting, knows little of many stories that haunt the space—the colichemaries that flashed in “courteous and deadly” combat, the shots that rang, the blood of gallants spilled between those trees, like wine. But there are old Creole gentlemen who remember “the oaks” as a field of honour, where society was sustained, and they remember when a gentleman who went bankrupt committed suicide, a woman fallen from virtue disappeared, and a person offended engaged in a duel. f New Orleans in the early 1800’s was a Bagdad of adventure. Northern merchants found New York tame in comparison. Masters of the duello made it their objective after the French Revolution and Napoleonic wars. Gilded youth crowded the Salles d’Armes, the Salle d Orleans, the Salle St. Philippe, Ponton's, where, in turn L’Alluctte, the Alsatian; Montiasse of Napoleons army, Cezares of Bordeaux, Boudin of Paris, Pepe Lulla, the Spaniard, held sway—living and dying, as the phrase was, “in blood and wine.” Rossiere, who had come, it was said, to practice the Code Napoleon and remained to ply the code d'honneur, fought seven duels in a week. There were many such men as Paul de Cassagnac, with forty duels to his credit. A passing frown, a trodden toe, served for an affair. Men fought as brilliantly over one thing as another. There was that duel to death between Bienaime Chareste de Lauzon* and Morel. Bienaime lifted a chair for his sister at supper in the ballroom of the Salle d’Orleans a bit too close to the young lady sitting next. Her escort called him to the balcony, struck his cheek with a glove, and two days later they met at the oaks. Bienaime was killed. His sisters, attending a soiree, had not known lie was called to the field of honour. The Marignys duelled at the oaks. Hero in 1830, Gustavus met Lanusse. First they fought with small swords, then with pistols, then back to small swords. The duel lasted ten minutes and Gustavus died on the spot. They were all fighters, those Marignys. In the old “Guide Book of New Orleans,” by Lafcadio Hearn and other distinguished writers, a story is told of Bernard in the Legislature of 1817, when little love was lost between the aristocratic Creoles and the canaille. Marigny took offence at the speech of another member, a seven-foot blacksmith from Georgia. He, the wealthiest man in Lousiana, who thought nothing of lighting his cigar with a 20-dollar bill, condescended to. challenge the Georgian. The blacksmith baulked. He was no gentleman, he said; lie knew nothing of duels. His friends pointed out that refusal meant ruin and lie must choose his weapons and name his place. So he considered, then sent word: his weapons were sledgehammers and lie would fight in six feet of water in Lake Pontehartrain. The Marquis de Marigny was only 5 feet 4. In little histories and strangely defunct peridocals many a chronicle of the duello has been preserved in an amber of sweeping phrases. The Creole gentlemen who have left these accounts never fail to stress the coldly gleaming eye and marble brows of tlieir compatriots. It would seem, upon perusal of all that can bo unearthed, that no Creole gentleman ever fought without a coldly gleaming eye or marble brow. Duelling Code. The code, revised and reprinted in *1873, again as late as 1883, outlined behaviour on the field and before. Challenges could not be issued at night. Duels must be fought within three days of the challenge. No apologies could be offered after principals had taken their ground. The wound that made the hand tremble ended the affair for the day. ( There were quaint admonitions. “Insult given at the wine table must be accounted for. If not remembered, it is the duty to say so in writing. The prevailing rule is that words used in retort, although more violent and disrespectful than those first used, will not satisfy, words being no satisfaction for words. Intoxication is not full excuse for insult, but it will greatly palliate. If it were a full excuse, it might well be counterfeited to wound feelings and destroy character. Insult given in defence of a lady’s reputation is less serious than it. would be otherwise. Insult to a- lady tinder a. gent lonian’s A prick of blood might assuage honour in certain situations. Shots were classified. Seconds must equal their principals in social rank, and a, gentleman did not fight one whom he could not ask to dinner. The terms of an antagonist were never refused. In 1836 Lieutentant Shamburg of Jackson’s army made valiant effort to evade Adolph *C‘ouvillier, a fiery young Creole, by stipulating a duel on horseback. But, he reckoned without Couvilliers seconds, Mandeville Marigny and La Sure, wlicf had been known to sit. up all night nursing his wounded victim in order to fight him again. They accepted with alacrity. It would revive combats of chivalry—inaugurate duelling on more magnificent scale! A Mighty Encounter. Colonel Olivier tendered the Carrollton race track and his beautiful horse to Shamburg. The grandstand and the levee along the course were crowded. Even the names of the horses were known. Shamburg, in the full uniform of the Second Dragoons with United States regulation broadsword, was described as a powerful Coeur de Lion; Couvillier as frail and delicate, in frock coat and tall beaver, the perfect picture of a centaur. He carried the heavy sword of a French cuirassier as a lanee. Shamburg waved his above liis head. “The appearance,” says a chronicler, “was magnificent, Sliamburg’s face twitching with the fires of concentrated rage, while that of < ouvillier was cold and pale as marble.'*