It would be fascinating to know where
Joseph Conrad picked up the story. If you happen to know, maybe you could
mention it. If it turns out that it says where he read it, further down the
same Wikipedia entry, please spare my blushes and move on. Dupont also produced an
unpublished, unfinished autobiography, I understand - I don't suppose it's in
Google Books?
* * * * * * Late Edit * * * * * *
All right, all right - under pressure from a supposed friend, I am prepared to add a little more of the story. This is taken from Andrew Steinmetz, The Romance
of Duelling in All Times and Countries, vol. 2, published 1868. You may, like me, think that it has the authentic ring of Total Bollocks, but you may find that, as bollocks goes, this is not without some entertainment value. [I can cut and paste with the best of them - and some of the best of them, let's admit it, are damned good]:
A Duel lasting Nineteen Years.
This most curious duel was brought to a termination in 1813,
after lasting nineteen years. It began at Strasbourg, and the cause of the
protracted fighting was as follows : —A captain of hussars, named Fournier, who
was a desperate duellist, and endowed, as the French say, ” with deplorable
skill,” had challenged and killed, on a most frivolous pretence, a young man,
named Blumm, the sole support of a family. At the event the entire town put
forth a cry of lamentation — a cry of malediction on the murderer.
The young man’s funeral was attended by an immense multitude,
and sympathy was felt for the bereaved family in every household. There was,
however, as it happened, a ball at the quarters of General Moreau. The ball was
expressly given to the citizens of Strasbourg, and the General, apprehensive
that the presence of Fournier might be offensive to his guests of the evening,
charged Captain Dupont, his aide-de-camp, to prevent him from entering the
ball-room. He accordingly posted himself at the entrance, and when Fournier
made his appearance, he exclaimed, ”Do you dare to show yourself here?”
“The deuce! what does this mean?” asked Fournier.
”It means,” replied Captain Dupont, ” that you ought to have
understood that on the day of the funeral of poor Blumm, it would have been
only decent to remain at home, or certainly not to appear at a reunion in which
you are likely to meet with the friends of your victim.”
”You mean enemies; but I would have you to know that I fear
nobody, and that I am in a mood to defy all the world,” said Fournier.
”Ah, bah! You shall not enjoy that fancy to-night; you must go
to bed, by order of the General,” rejoined Dupont.
”You are mistaken, Dupont;” said Fournier, ”I cannot call the
General to account for insulting me by closing his door upon me, but I look to
you and to them, and I am resolved to pay you handsomely for your commission as
door-keeper which you have accepted!”
”Oh, as for that, my dear fellow, I’ll fight you when you like.
The fact is, your insolent and blustering behaviour has displeased me for a
long time, and my hand itches to chastise you!”
”We shall see who is the chastiser,” said Fournier.
The duel came off, and Fournier was laid on the grass with a
vigorous sword-thrust. “That’s the first touch,” he exclaimed as he sank. “Then
you wish to have another bout, do you?” asked Dupont.
”Most assuredly, my brave fellow, and before long, I hope,” said
Fournier.
In a month Fournier got well; they fought again; this time
Dupont was grievously wounded, and in falling he exclaimed, ” That’s the
second. As soon as possible again; and then for the finish.”
The two adversaries were about equal with the sword; but with
the pistol the chances would have been very different. Fournier was a frightful
crack shot. According to M. de Pontecoulant, often when the hussars of his
regiment were galloping past smoking, he amused himself with smashing their
short pipes between their lips!
I have seen some wonderful doings with the pistol. I have known
a determination to hit a certain part of the adversary, and it was hit. I have
seen hens held out by the hand of a negro, hit by a pistol bullet; but the feat
of hitting a pipe in the mouth of a galloping horseman is beyond my
comprehension. If Fournier could do that, then Dupont was perfectly justified
in refusing to try him at that game, as he proposed. They fought again with
swords, but the finish was not forthcoming; it was only a slight wound on both
sides; but now they resolved to continue the contest until either of them
should confess himself beaten or satisfied. They drew up formal terms of the
warfare, as follows:
1 Every
time that Dupont and Fournier shall be a hundred miles from each other, they
will each approach half the distance to meet sword in hand.
2 Should one
of the contracting parties be prevented by the duties of the service, he who is
free must go the entire distance, so as to reconcile the duties of the service
with the exigencies of the present treaty.
3 No
excuse whatever, excepting those resulting from military obligations, will be
admitted.
4 The present
being a bona fide treaty, cannot be altered from the conditions agreed upon by
the consenting parties.
This contract was religiously executed in all its rigour.
Moreover, the contracting parties found no difficulty in keeping their
engagements; this state of war became to them a normal condition, a second
nature. Their eagerness to meet was like that of two lovers. They never crossed
swords without first shaking hands in the most boisterous manner.
Their correspondence during this periodic duel is the essence of
burlesque. Take the following:
”I am invited to breakfast with the officers of the regiment of
Chasseurs, at Suneville. I hope to be able to accept this pleasant invitation.
As you are on leave in that town, we will take advantage of the opportunity, if
you please, to get a thrust at each other.”
Here is another, less familiar, perhaps, but not less tender:
” My dear friend, — I shall be at Strasbourg on the 5th of
November, proximo, about noon. Wait for me at the Hôtel des Postes. We shall have a thrust or two.”
Such was the style and such the tenor of the entire
correspondence.
At intervals, the promotion of one of them provisionally
interrupted the meeting; this was one of the cases anticipated by Article 3 of
the treaty. As soon as they got on an equality of rank in the service, the
party last promoted never failed to receive a letter couched in the following
terms, written by Fournier.
”My dear Dupont, — I hear that the Emperor, doing justice to
your merit, has just promoted you to the grade of Brigadier-General. Accept my
sincere congratulations on a promotion, which by your future and your courage
is made natural, a mere matter of course. I have two reasons for exultation in
this nomination. First, the satisfaction of a fortunate circumstance for your
advancement; and secondly, the facility now vouchsafed to us to have a thrust
at each other on the first opportunity.
They afterwards became generals. Dupont was ordered to join the
army in Switzerland. He arrived, unexpectedly, in a village occupied by the
staff, and which had not a single inn or tavern in it. The night was dark. Not
a light was seen excepting at the window of a small cottage. Dupont went to the
door, entered, and found himself face to face with Fournier.
“What! You here?” exclaimed the latter rapturously. ” Now for a
thrust !”
They set to at once, conversing as they fought.
”I thought you were promoted to some high administrative
function?”
”You were wrong; I am still of the trade. The Minister has sent
me to the Fourth Corps d’armee, and here I am.”
”And your first visit is to me ? It is very kind of you.
Sacrebleu!”
Dupont drove his sword through Fournier’s neck, and held him
spitted to the wall, saying, ”You will admit that you did not expect that
thrust!”
Dupont still held him fast, and Fournier muttered, ”I’ll give
you a thrust quite equal to this.”
”What thrust can you give?”
”Why, as soon as you lower your arm, and before you can parry, I
shall lunge into your belly!”
”Thank you for the hint. Then we shall pass the night in this
position.”
”That’s an agreeable prospect ! But, really, I am not very
comfortable.”
”Drop your sword, and I set you free.”
”No, I must stick you in the belly.”
Meanwhile some officers, attracted by the noise they were
making, rushed in and separated the two generals.
Thus the contest continued, the contract being faithfully
fulfilled on both sides. At length, however, Dupont thought of marrying, and he
set his wits to work to find out how to make an end of the engagement. He must
either kill Fournier, or muzzle him effectually. He went to him one morning ;
it was at Paris.
”Ah!” said the latter at seeing him, ”Glad to see you. Let’s
have a brush together.”
“A word first, my dear fellow,” said Dupont. ”I am on the point
of getting married. We must end this quarrel, which is becoming rather rancid.
I now come to get rid of you. In order to secure a definitive result, I offer
to substitute the pistol for the sword — there!”
”Why, man, you are stark mad!” exclaimed the dead-shot Fournier,
astounded by the proposal.
”Oh, I know your skill with the pistol, mon ami . . . But, let
me tell you, I have hit upon a plan which will equalize the conflict. Here it
is. Near Neuilly there is an enclosure, with a little wood in it. It is at my
disposal. My proposal is this. We shall enter the wood, each provided with a
pair of horse- pistols, and then, having separated, and being out of sight of
each other, we shall track each other as best we can, and fire at our
convenience.”
”Capital ! Agreed !” exclaimed Fournier ; but let me give you,
mon vieux, a little piece of advice.”
”If you please,” said Dupont.
”Well, don’t go too far with your marriage project. It will be
time and trouble lost; for I warrant you’ll die a bachelor.”
”They who win may laugh,” said Dupont.
On the day appointed Fournier and Dupont set out in their hunt.
Having separated, and got out of sight of each other, as agreed, they crept
about or advanced like cautious wolves or foxes, striving to catch a glance at
each other through the thicket, whenever the motion of the leaves showed their
presence.
All at once, as though by a common movement, both came in sight
together, standing behind two trees. They squatted down, and thus remained for
a few minutes. The situation was delicate - critical. To stir was certain
death, to one of them, at least. Dupont, however, was the first to make the
attempt, or rather to pretend to do so. He raised the flap of his coat, and
allowed one end to project out of cover. Bang! came the bullet in an instant,
cutting through the cloth.
“That settles one shot,” ejaculated Dupont, with a sigh of
thanksgiving. After a short interval, Dupont returned to the charge, but this
time on the other side of the tree. Holding his pistol with his left hand, he
presented the barrel, as though about to fire, and at the same instant he held
out his hat with his right hand. Bang! came another bullet, driving the hat
into the bushes.
“Now, my brave, it’s all up with you !” exclaimed Dupont,
stalking out, with both pistols in hand and cocked ; and marching up to Fournier,
he said: —
“Your life is at my disposal, but I will not take it.”
“Oh, just as you please about that!” muttered Fournier.
Dupont continued: “Only you must remember that I do not give up
my right of property in it. Beware of ever crossing my path again, for if you
do, I may probably put my two bullets into your brains, as I might this
instant.”
Such was the termination of this long quarrel of nineteen years,
ending with the marriage of one of the parties, who contrived at last to beat
the unapproachable crack-shot at his own weapon.
