A STRANGE DUEL.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 5438, 31 August 1878, Page 1 (Supplement)

A STRANGE DUEL.

(a tivcjk story.) X think it was in the year 18G3 that X was in the town of Heidelberg, during the time of the tragic and impressive incidents that I am about to relate. We were a number of boys at school together when one morning we heard that a student belonging to the Prussian corps had shot himself. Some of us knew him by name and by sight as one of the most popular and handsome of those that wo constantly met strolling about the streets of that town. The day-boy, as we boarders called those whose parents lived in the town, was besieged with questions as to the why and the wherefore of the deed. He could only tell us that he had heard that there bad been a duel, and that this man had shot himself, but ho knew no more, except that “Stein,” as wo will call him, was not quite dead. I will not repeat -all the strange rumors of the next few days ; suffice it to say now that mixed with a thousand wild rumors of the surrounding circumstances one fact was certain, that poor Stein was dead, and would be honored with a torchlight procession and an address over his remains on a certain day. His body was to be despatchad to his home in Prussia, and the elder boys in the school were to be allowed to attend and see the procession. I suppose it would be difficult to imagine a wilder or more imposing spectacle than this funeral procession by torchlight. The numerous corps of students in their handsome uniforms, half-veiled with black crape scarves ; the varying types of strong, youthful manhood displayed between Prussians and Austrians, Bavarians and Hanoverians, all deeply impressed with the solemnity of the occasion ; the half-wild strange faces that hailed from Poland, Bohemia, and Russia, all glowing with the excitement, though a little subdued by the sad story connected with their comrade’s fate, —all helped to make up a picture that dwells vividly in my memory ; the colors draped in mourning, the flashing rapiers (schlSgers), the flickering torchlight and the, half-discordant tones of the “ Dead March in Saul,” played with all the force and harmonious spirit that the musical feeling of Germans could impart, served to deepen the effect. I do not know of anything more powerfully impressive than the deep hush that seems to fall upon a crowd that is really deeply affected at a funeral, when the music ceases and nothing is heard but the heavy, slow tramp of thousands marching in step. The crowd ha* arrived at the railway station. A funeral car has been prepared ; the coffin-bearers have deposited their buvdeu, when an old grey-haired Lutheran minister steps up on to a rough stage overlooking the crowd, and close to the body of tlu pupil he loved. Though there were thousands there—a perfect sea of faces—the flickering and the sputtering of the torches alone broke the silence. '

It was with an effort that the preacher began his oration, and said : “ I will first tell you the true story, so that you may know hew hard it is for me to defend the memory of my boy against the heavy criminal charge of selfmurder (suicide, sdbot moro) that has been brought against him. He was my friend and. my charge, and he was too dear to me for mo to be able to stand here and speak of him without a break in ray voice and a tear in my eye. This poor Stein was well known as a true highspirited man among his fellows. He could not live here among so many others, who only desired to attain to excellencies that he already possessed, without being called upon to take the place as chief among them. But I will not tell you of his excellencies—they are known to all of you. Neither need I tell you what caused the quarrel that has ended thus sorrowfully. The name and the country of the man who wrought the wrong that ended in robbing us of our dear friend is unknown to us, I will only tell you that Stein believed that a crime had been committed against him, in the person of one dearer to him than his own life, which the law could not reach, and which apparently would not justify him in taking the law into his own hands. So Stein wrote to this man, saying, “ You have wronged me beyoud forgiveness ; it has been hard for mo to keep my hand from slaying you in cold blood ; X call upon you to face death with me at once. I have no desire for life, but if in an ordinary duel you kill me, in these days and under our laws, your life will be taken. Let' us draw lots, which of us two shall shoot himself, for this world is not large enough to contain us both in peace.” And ho delivered this note in person, walked with his enemy to a vacant chamber, and drew lots. Stein himself told me that the one word “death” was written on the fatal lot, and that when he drew it out, and saw the sentence, he was glad to welcome it, and only regretted that his enemy should live on, perhaps unsuspected, certainly uuconvicted. To the winner he said simply, “ God forgive you, for I cannot,” drew the pistol, and shot himself through his heart ; with steady hand he pointed the pistol, but the bullet glanced off, and left a dangerous, perhaps fatal, wound in his side.

When I first saw him lying wounded in his room, he turned to me and said, “ Have you come also to try and persuade me to live on dishonored !” For he knew that the messenger who had gone for me must have told me how Stein had striven hard to prevent the surgeon from examining or dressing Ins wound. I replied to him, “ We cannot spare you, my son, and dishonor is a word that no man dare couple with yours.” You have heard how all the captains of the companies of students went to his bedside, and told him that though they could not approve of this new and fearful sort, of duel, yet his honor was pure and stainless as the snow. Perhaps you have also heard his answer, “ I am too weak to argue, but my lot said “death,” and I will die, and in the morning, they found the bandages unloosed, and he was dead. I will not repeat the sermon that was given, it turned upon the old quotation of Magna, cst veritas et prevalcbit —let those point the moral of the story who may feel its force. ■ Y.