A quarrel with an aristocrat

France, in many ways, is very different from The U.S. For example, to establish myself and gain respect in French society I have to vehemently defend my honor. This means, of course, engaging myself in duels whenever I have been offended in order to acquire satisfaction. Here in Nantes especially, things are settled at the point of a sword, so I must needs brush up on my fencing. I am joking of course; I would never need to brush up on my fencing. But that does remind me of an incident that took place not too long after my arrival.

Two weeks ago, while sitting in a café, I was approached by several agreeable Frenchman who were looking for nothing more than hearty conversation. This I welcomed eagerly as a means to gain some information about the city. We talked on all manner of subjects until, while expounding on notable sites to visit in Nantes, one of them made a comment about Le Cours Cambronne (The Square Cambronne). He spoke of it with utter contempt, which piqued my curiosity. When I asked why he held this square in such low esteem, he replied that it was an extremely high end square and, consequently, also one of the most stubbornly aristocratic. It was not advisable, he said, to enter into that square if I did not come from a firmly established and respected family. This news did nothing more than stir up the rebellion in me and I gave a hearty "pffffff" in response. Having thusly fired off a definitive riposte, I turned and headed in the direction of the square Cambronne, leaving the Frenchmen calling after me and shaking their heads.

When I arrived at the gate I paused for a moment to gather myself, then strolled in, head held high, upper lip curled in disdain. As I made my way to the center of the square and the statue of the general Cambronne, I yelled out in a strong voice: "vive Napolean!" This had the desired effect, even a bit more so than I had hoped. In a few seconds I found myself surrounded by a group of angry French aristocrats (French aristocrats are all pretty angry these days seeing that the Restoration didn't pan out). I knew I had to tread carefully, choose my moment, then act swiftly. I became flush with anticipation, my hand at the ready on my saber. I looked around me trying to pick out their leader. Ah! the dandy looking fellow with the uneven peruke! That was he. I pointed at him, singling him out from the rest, and drew my sword in one fluid motion. Bound by centuries of honor, he was constrained to accept my challenge. He advanced and made ready.

With the rest of them watching we fell into furious combat. He was strong and skilled, but could not match my endurance. Eventually he began to tire, and I seized a moment when his guard was open, piercing him through the breast. He cried out once, eyes wide with surprise, then fell to his knees. The others moved in immediately to see to him. For my part, I calmly cleaned and sheathed my blade, then walked back the way I had come. I knew I would have no further problems in the square Cambronne.

Some of you out there might be wondering how a square in Nantes dedicated to a hero of the Empire would end up a haven for what's left of the French aristocracy. This is a good question. I can only surmise that their taking possession of the square was a passive aggressive attempt to denigrate Napolean and his legacy. Notwithstanding, the statue has suffered no ill treatment and the square is always pristine with never any sign of vandalism. Rather, from what I have observed, aristocrats show their disdain in seemly fashion by showering the general Cambronne with subtlety ironic praise to any tourists who will listen.