Cause of the Duel.
A single event of that kind, occurring in a family not altogether strange to you, does more to make you feel the grim reality of duelling than many newspaper paragraphs. In this particular case the incident arose from a correspondence between two proud and brave gentlemen about their game preserves. One of them had written in a manner that offended the other, and had refused to withdraw his letter. The code of honour then made a duel almost inevitable, and the correspondence being continued very soon led to it. An especially significant thing about this duel was that the conqueror was known as a remarkably expert swordsman, which the victim was not to the same degree. This demonstrates the real unfairness of duelling, as we see that the weaker or less expert antagonist goes down, whatever may be the righteousness of his cause.
Difficulty of abolishing the Duel.
The sense of this unfairness is gradually tending (in spite of appearances) to the abolition of the duel in France. There are two signs that the custom is growing weaker. The opinion that duels are contrary to reason is more frequently expressed in conversation, especially by women, than it used to be, and the duellists themselves are generally satisfied with the degree of deference to custom which goes as far as the first wound, and do not vindictively thirst for each other’s blood. The difficulty in abolishing the duel strikes an intelligent Frenchman in this way. “The duel,” he thinks, “is evidently a most irrational institution; but when there is a quarrel between two high-spirited men I cannot see how it is to come to an end otherwise.” Then he will say, “I know that the duel is obsolete in England, which is a happy thing for your country; but I cannot imagine how an English gentleman behaves when he is insulted.” To this difficulty I usually reply that public opinion in his country condemns the insolent man for his bad manners, and puts itself on the side of any gentleman who conducts himself with simple dignity, so that the latter is free to treat his enemy with silent contempt.
Wines.
French Wines in old England.
Changes of custom in one of the two nations, which have had the effect of separating it still further from the other, may be traced in several minor habits that are now considered especially and characteristically English. I can remember the time when the middle classes of England hardly knew the taste of French wine. Port and sherry were the wines of the middle class. The upper classes, in those days, offered French red wines at dessert under the general name of “claret,” without distinguishing between Bordeaux and Burgundy, and consequently without mentioning vineyards, unless the host happened to be, or pretended to be, a connoisseur. The taxes on French wines were afterwards reduced, and just before the reduction the kind of middle-class people who prided themselves on being especially national often declared that John Bull would never take to those light French wines, implying that he was a personage of more manly tastes, and writers in the press quoted a dignitary of the Anglican Church who had declared that “claret would be port, if it could,” which is like saying that port is anxious to become brandy. These good middle-class people, who made it a part of John Bull’s character to despise their French wines, seem to have been perfectly unaware that their ancestors, not less English than themselves, had for centuries been hearty appreciators of French wines, and that, in old times, casks of Bordeaux or Burgundy were to be found not only in the cellars of the rich, but in country hostelries. This may be a trifling matter, but to have the same taste in wines is not altogether unimportant as an aid to good-fellowship. A Frenchman looks upon an incapacity to appreciate the best wines—by which, of course, he always means the best French wines—as the sign of the outer barbarian. What he most likes in the Belgians is the just value they attach to the produce of “les meilleurs crûs” and their excellent, well-filled cellars.
Tea.
Englishwomen in France.
Novelty of Tea-drinking in England.