It is related of Charles XII. of Sweden, that, riding out one day, he left his attendants at some distance; and, coming to a gate, opened it, but neglected to shut it again, according to the laws of the country. The owner of the land, who was an ensign in the army, came up, and, not knowing the King, inquired why he did not shut the gate after him, according to the royal decree; and, as he passed, made use of some uncivil expressions. “Why do you not go and shut the gate yourself?” said the King. This so enraged the gentleman, that he seized the bridle and stopped the horse. On this, Charles put his hand on his sword, but the other snatched it from him. The King then drew out a pistol, and threatened to make him repent his conduct unless he immediately returned the sword. “You would not be so valiant,” said the officer, “if I also was provided with a pistol.” “Then go and fetch one,” said the King. The gentleman immediately went for a pistol, while Charles waited his return; but, as he was coming back, he saw the King’s attendants at a little distance, which giving him some suspicion, he made his retreat.
The ensign acquainted his commanding officer with the circumstance, requesting his interference. A review soon after took place; and, the King observing that this officer was not present, asked the colonel where he was, when he was told that he was upon guard. “Let him be sent for,” said the King. The ensign was brought forward. Charles immediately galloped up to him; then, looking him steadfastly in the face, named him a first lieutenant, and ordered that a grant of money should be given to him.
The enactments against duelling in the German armies place officers in as difficult a situation as in our service. If they allow themselves to be insulted without resenting the injury, they are expelled from their regiment; yet are they punished if they demand satisfaction from the offender: and Dr. Gans of Berlin very justly observes, “Duelling amongst officers is very rare, for their position is most embarrassing. If an officer, whose honour has been impeached, does not fight, he is expelled; and, if he fights, he is shut up in a fortress.” Montesquieu, in his Lettres Persannes, has the following judicious remark: “If you follow the laws of honour,” writes Usbeck, “you die on a scaffold; and, if you follow the dictates of justice, you are banished from society. Thus you have no alternative but that of forfeiting life or being unworthy of living.”
If duels are rare among German officers, they are most common amongst their students or Burschen, whose ridiculous meetings have often been described by travellers. The parties who it is thought necessary should fight usually meet at an inn near their university; they are covered with a thick leather armour that protects them, and their face is the principal vulnerable part. The arm they use is the long German sword, and the shell of its hilt is an additional protection to the combatants.
The students at Jena use a sword called Schlagen, the blade of which is three feet and a half long, and triangular like a bayonet; the handle is protected by a tin plate, ten inches in diameter, which has been jocosely called the soup-plate of honour: this handle, soup-plate, and blade, can all be unscrewed and concealed, the hilt and guard under a cloak, and the blade sheathed in a walking-stick.
By the rules of some universities, called their Comment, the nature of the offence requires a certain number of cuts; twenty-four for the appellation of dummer Junge, or stupid youth, and as many for the epithet infamous. The pistol is scarcely ever selected as a weapon. When perchance a student has killed another, he is advised to quit the university, receiving from the senate what is called a consilium abeundi. This expulsion is called a relegatio, and is published in Latin. In these cases the offender enters another college. At Gottingen the students were long overawed by a ruffian of the name of Luderf, of great personal strength, and who not unfrequently lopped off arms and hands with his Teutonic glaive.
In 1833, the corpse of a Lieutenant-colonel de Keunaw was found in a forest near Dreisen, pierced with a sword-wound and weltering in blood. It appeared, upon inquiry, that a councillor of the name of Von Zahn had asked in marriage the daughter of a Baron Haller, who at the same time was courted by a Baron Linsmar, a friend of Von Zahn, who, to rid himself of his rival, had recourse to the most diabolical stratagem. He was on terms of intimacy with De Keunaw, who was considered a most dexterous swordsman, whereas Linsmar was totally unacquainted with the use of the weapon. Von Zahn, therefore, exerted himself to foment discord between them, until at last their constant dissensions led to a duel. Von Zahn insisting upon being the second to his friend, a meeting took place; when, by one of those chances in arms, the inexperienced combatant killed his expert antagonist. Von Zahn was brought to trial and condemned to death, and Baron Linsmar to ten years’ imprisonment. The sentence of the former, however, was commuted into twenty years’ confinement.
In 1834 the German papers gave an account of a duel of a most romantic nature:—“A Baron Trautmansdorf was paying courtship to the widow of a Polish general, the young Countess Lodoiska R——; he only awaited an appointment to an embassy to marry her. In the mean time a Baron de Ropp courted the lady, and in a sonnet turned his more successful rival into ridicule. The baron immediately sent him a message, which Ropp accepted; but on the ground proposed a champion, who espoused his cause, when Trautmansdorf fell. His second, indignant at this act of treachery, insisted that Ropp should give him satisfaction. The second was also mortally wounded, when it was found out that Lodoiska herself had accompanied her betrothed in male attire. Ropp, having recognised her when she fell, felt so deeply the turpitude of his conduct, that he threw himself on his own sword, and expired near the bodies of Lodoiska and her lover.”
Duels are so very rare in Germany, that a hostile meeting that took place at Frankfort in 1834 between two officers, and which proved fatal to one of them, was considered a remarkable event; and all Vienna was astonished when a noble German sent a challenge to Baron Rothschild for having refused to lend him money.