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  THE

  HISTORY OF DUELLING:

  INCLUDING,

  NARRATIVES

  OF THE MOST

  REMARKABLE PERSONAL ENCOUNTERS

  THAT HAVE TAKEN PLACE FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD
  TO THE PRESENT TIME.

  BY

  J. G. MILLINGEN, M.D. F.R.S.

  AUTHOR OF “CURIOSITIES OF MEDICAL EXPERIENCE,” ETC.

  IN TWO VOLUMES.
  VOL. I.

  LONDON:
  RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
  Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.
  1841.




  LONDON:
  PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
  Bangor House, Shoe Lane.




CONTENTS

OF

THE FIRST VOLUME.


  CHAPTER I.

  INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS.

  Object of the Work.--Ancient Duels and Single Combats
  characterized.--Origin of Duelling.--Trials by Ordeal.--Treachery
  and ferocity of the days of Chivalry.--Light thrown by
  the History of Duelling on the Manners and Constitutions
  of Society at different periods.--Introduction into the British
  Isles.--Advantages to be derived from chronicling the hideous
  details                                                         Page 1


  CHAPTER II.

  ON DUELLING AMONG THE ANCIENTS, AND IN OLDEN TIMES.

  The practice of Duelling unknown to the Ancients.--Personal
  conflicts of their Warriors.--Wrestlers in the Pancration.--Introduction
  of the Cæstus.--Female Pugilists.--Gladiators.--National
  conflicts.--Battle of the Thirty.--Onset between
  Bembrough and Beaumanoir.--Combat between Seven French
  and Seven English Knights.--Challenges between Sovereigns.--Francis
  the First and Charles the Fifth.--Edward the Third
  and Philip de Valois.--Christian the Fourth of Denmark and
  Charles the Ninth of Sweden.--Sully’s description of Duellists  Page 9


  Chapter III.

  THE ORIGIN OF DUELLING.

  Association of Brute Courage with Superstition.--Religion
  and Love.--Barbarous Courage of the Northern Nations.--Personal
  appeal to arms traced to their irruption in the Fifth
  Century.--Universal militarism.--Decision of Differences by
  brute force.--Establishment of Ordeals.--Judicial Combats.--Law
  of Gundebald, King of the Burgundians.--Mode of conducting
  these Judicial Combats.--A Burgundian Conflict described.--Lady
  Spectatresses.--Duel between Baron des
  Guerres and the Sieur de Faudilles.--Mode of conducting Ordeals
  and Judicial Combats.--The Weapons.--Form of Denial.--The
  Gage.--Duels by Proxy.--Bravoes, or Champions.--Trial
  by Hot Iron.--Trial by Hot and Cold Water.--Ordeal
  of the Cross.--Ordeal by Balance.--Ordeal by Poison.--Ordeal
  by Hot Oil.--Antiquity of the practice of Ordeals.--First Fire
  Ordeal.--Story of Simplicius Bishop of Autun.--Account of a
  Trial by Hot Water                                                  21


  CHAPTER IV.

  CELEBRATED JUDICIAL DUELS.

  Combat between Macaire and the Dog of Montargis.--Between
  the King of Burgundy’s Chamberlain and Gamekeeper.--Between
  a Courtier of Rharvald King of Lombardy
  and a Cousin of the Queen.--Between Gontran and Ingelgerius,
  Count of Anjou.--Ecclesiastical trials by battle.--Singular
  Trial by Battle at Toledo.--Judicial trials instituted by
  French Parliaments.--Edicts prohibiting Duels.--The Saviour’s
  truce.--Account of the celebrated Duel between Jarnac and
  De la Chasteneraye.--Combat between Albert de Luignes
  and Panier.--Maugerel the King’s Killer.--Abolition of the
  Trial by Ordeal in England.--Ordeal of the heated Ploughshares.--Combat
  between Edward Ironside and Canute.--Introduction
  of Duelling into England.--Law of Alfred.--Laws
  of Edmund.--Price of Wounds and Injuries regulated.--Decision
  of the Cross.--Ordeal by the Consecrated Bread and Cheese,
  or Corsned.--Settlement of Feuds by Pecuniary Compensation.--Combat
  between William Count d’Eu and Godefroi
  Baynard--Between Henry de Essex and Robert de Montfort.--Institution
  of the Grand Assizes, or Trial by Jury, by
  Henry the Second.--Trial of Battle before the Court of Common
  Pleas                                                               44

  CHAPTER V.

  INSTITUTION OF CHIVALRY AND DUELS.

  Origin of Chivalric Laws and Customs.--The Assumption of
  Arms considered a Religious Rite.--Gallantry.--Union of Love and
  Religion.--Institution of Knighthood.--Tilts and Tournaments.--Increase
  of Duelling.--Degrading results of Chivalry.--Desperate
  pranks of the Crusaders.--Massacre of the Albigenses.--Knighthood
  becomes instrumental to Clerical or Military
  Ambition.--The Dog of Our Lady.--Francis the First’s
  Principle of Honour.--Giving the Lie.--First Chivalric Meeting.--Rules
  and Regulations for the Management of Tournaments.--Tournaments
  forbidden by the Clergy.--Edward the
  First challenged by the Count de Chalons.--His joust with the
  French Knights.--The petty Battle of Chalons.--Fatal Encounter
  of Henry the Second of France with Count Montgomery.--Ferocity
  and absurdity of these “Points of Honour.”--Deadly
  Combat between two Spanish Captains at Ferrara.--“Beau
  Combat” between M. de Bayard and Don Alonzo de
  Soto Mayor.--Punctiliousness in taking Offence.--Object of
  Tilts and Tournaments.--Injunction of the Dame des Belles
  Cousines to Little Jean de Saintré.--“Love par Amours.”--Influence
  of the Clergy.--Origin of the “Truce of God.”--The
  Crusades under Godefroi de Bouillon.--Advantages held
  out to the Crusaders.--Revolution in Property produced by the
  Crusades.--Discovery of the Pandects of Justinian.--Introduction
  of Civil Law                                                        66


  CHAPTER VI.

  EARLY DUELLING IN FRANCE.

  France the Classic Ground of Duelling.--Brantôme’s Rules
  for Duellers.--Right of a Soldier to call out his Captain.--Opinions
  of La Béraudière, Basnage, and Alciat.--Decorations
  and button-hole Badges.--The Badge of Love.--Choice of
  Arms.--Ancient modes of Fighting.--Fighting with sharp-pointed
  daggers in front of the Helmet.--Fighting in Steel
  Collars with pointed blades.--Privilege of the Offended to
  choose his Arms.--Fighting in Armour.--State of Society in
  France during the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries.--Introduction
  of the Pistol                                                       94


  CHAPTER VII.

  DUELLING IN FRANCE DURING THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

  Effects of the Gasconading Challenge sent by Francis the
  First to Charles the Fifth.--Duel between Chateauneuf and his
  Guardian Lachesnaye.--Between the Nephew of Marshal St.
  André and M. Matas.--Between a Roman Gentleman and the
  Chevalier De Refuge.--Exploits of Baron de Vitaux, the Paragon
  of France.--His Duel with Baron de Mittaud.--His Death.--Duel
  between Caylus and D’Entragues.--Between Riberac
  and Maugerin.--Between Schomberg and Livaret.--Introduction
  of the custom of Seconds fighting with each other.--Murderous
  Contests of Antoine de Clarmont.--Contest of six
  against six                                                        109


  CHAPTER VIII.

  DUELLING IN FRANCE DURING THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

  Edicts of Henry the Fourth against duelling.--Desperate
  nature of these bloody feuds.--Combat between Joeilles and
  Devese.--Celebrated Ruffians.--Trial of Skill between Lagarde
  Valoise and Bazanez.--Battle of the Hats.--Pardons
  for duelling.--Endeavours of Sully to check the practice.--Edict
  of Blois.--“The point of honour.”--Refusal of M. de
  Reuly to fight a duel                                              123


  CHAPTER IX.

  DUELLING DURING THE REIGN OF LOUIS THE THIRTEENTH.

  Ferocity and absurdity of private rencontres during this
  reign.--Fighting with knives.--Baron de Luz and his son
  killed by the Chevalier de Guise.--Prohibitory edicts.--Anecdotes
  by Lord Herbert of Cherbury.--Case of M. Mennon.--“C’est
  Monsieur Balaguy!”--Quarrels for top-knots and
  ribands.--Duel between the Prince de Chalais and the Count
  of Pont Gibaut.--Excesses of “the golden youth of France.”--Conflict
  between Boutteville and the Marquis de Beuvron.--Boutteville’s
  execution                                                          133


  CHAPTER X.

  DUELLING IN FRANCE DURING THE REIGN OF LOUIS THE
  FOURTEENTH.

  Picture of the Times.--Endeavours to check the Spirit of
  Duelling.--The celebrated “Edit des Duels.”--Severe pains
  and penalties.--Courts of Honour instituted.--Prize Medal
  for a Poem against Duelling.--Ecclesiastical frays.--Fighting
  with Crucifixes, Prayer-books, and Missals.--Private
  Outrages in high life.--The great Condé and the
  Comte des Rièux.--Duel between the Duke of Beaufort and
  the Duke de Nemours.--Between the Comte de Coligny and
  the Duke de Guise.--Between the Comte de Rochefort and
  the desperado Bréauté.--A singular Challenge.--Duel between
  La Frette and De Chalais.--Case of the Marquis de la Donze,
  Duel between the Counts de Brionne and d’Hautefort.--Quarrel
  of the Dukes de Luxembourg and Richelieu--And of
  the Prince de Conti and the Grand Prior of Vendôme.--A gambling
  duel.--Meeting between La Fontaine and an Officer.--Association
  for the Abolition of Duelling.--Its decline traced
  in the progress of Civilization.--The Point of Honour.--Coustard
  de Massis.--Defence of Duelling.--Frequency of Duels in
  the United States of America accounted for.--Montesquieu’s
  recapitulation of the grounds on which the erroneous views of
  the Point of Honour were based                                     151


  CHAPTER XI.

  DUELLING IN FRANCE DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

  Profligacy of the Court during the Regency of Philip
  d’Orleans.--Disregard of the edict against duelling.--A duel about
  an Angola cat, fought at Paris in open day.--Duel between the
  Abbé D’Aydie and a clerk.--Between Contades and Brissac.--Efforts
  of Louis the Fifteenth to check duelling.--Duel between the
  Duke de Richelieu and the Count de Gacé.--Between Richelieu
  and the Count Albani.--Between Richelieu and the Prince de
  Lixen.--Between Du Vighan and the Count de Meulan.--“La botte de
  St. Evremont.”--Exploits of St. Foix.--Duel between Bricqueville
  and La Maugerie.--Rousseau’s denunciation of duelling.--Notions of
  honour that prevailed at Versailles and the Tuilerie               183


  CHAPTER XII.

  DUELLING IN FRANCE DURING THE REIGN OF LOUIS THE
  SIXTEENTH.

  State of the court and country on his accession.--Duelling
  chiefly confined to the soldiery.--Duel between the Count
  d’Artois and the Prince de Condé.--Between the Prince de
  Condé and Vicomte d’Agout.--Exploits of the Chevalier d’Eon.--And
  of the Chevalier St. George.--Efforts of Louis to reform
  his court.--“Le beau de Tilly.”--His observations on
  duelling.--Humorous duels.--Between Ney and a fencing-master.--De
  Tilly’s description of the Court of Honour.--Outbreak
  of the Revolution.--Duel between Charles Lameth and
  De Castries.--Resolution of the municipal body of Paris
  against duelling.--Proceedings in the National Assembly
  against duelling.--Speech of Camille Desmoulins.--Cause of
  the hatred in which duels were held at this time                   205


  CHAPTER XIII.

  DUELLING IN FRANCE DURING THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.

  Duelling, under the Directory, again becomes fashionable.--Numerous
  meetings in the Bois de Boulogne.--Duel between
  Generals Destaing and Reynier.--A diplomatic duel.--Napoleon’s
  dislike of duelling, and distrust of duellists.--Infrequency
  of duelling during his reign.--Effect of the restoration of the
  Bourbons upon society.--Duels occasioned by parliamentary
  speeches and paper wars.--St Marcellin killed in a duel by
  his bosom friend Fayau.--Duel between Beaupoil de St. Aulaire
  and M. de Pierrebourg.--Between M. de Ségur and General
  Gourgaud.--Between two novel writers--Between M. Raynouard
  and M. Garnerey, the artist.--Between Treins and Damarzil.--Prosecutions
  of survivors.--Duel between Roque-plaine
  and Durré.--Singular duel at Bourdeaux.--Strictures on
  the conduct of the seconds.--Military duels.--Challenges between
  newspaper editors.--Mania for duelling after the revolution
  of July.--Singular duel between M. Lethuillier and
  M. Wattebaut.--Between General Bugeaud and M. Dulong.--Fatal
  duel fought in public.--Challenge of a general Officer to
  Marshal Soult                                                      Page 237


  CHAPTER XIV.

  DUELS BETWEEN FRENCH WOMEN                                         270


  CHAPTER XV.

  CODE OF DUELLING ESTABLISHED IN FRANCE                             274


  CHAPTER XVI.

  FRENCH VIEWS OF THE CHARACTER AND DUTIES OF
  A SECOND, AND OF THE EXPEDIENCY OF DUELLING                        294


  CHAPTER XVII.

  DUELLING IN ITALY.

  Enactments of Theoderic against Duelling.--Prevalence in
  Cisalpine Gaul.--Duels to maintain the innocence of Women accused
  of Adultery.--Edict of Luitprand.--Efforts of Charlemagne
  to check Duelling.--The practice re-established by Otho the
  Second.--Works on the science.--Duel between Charles d’Anjou
  and the King of Arragon.--Between Charles the Third and Louis
  the First.--Duelling at Naples.--Professors of La Scienza
  Cavalleresca.--Military Order of St. George.--Disputes between
  the Guelphs and Ghibelins.--Introduction of Seconds and
  Witnesses.--Brantôme’s story of a Neapolitan Duellist--Celebrated
  Italian Fencing-masters.--“The Hamstring-cut.”--“The
  Vendetta.”--Scientific Assassinations.--Duel in the presence
  of the Prince of Orange.--Duel by Torch-light before the Duke
  Hercules d’Este.--Decree compelling Duellists to fight on the
  Parapet of the Bridge of Turin.--Humbert the Second’s Reply to a
  Challenge.--Extraordinary Duel in the town of Ostuni between the
  Count de Conversano and the Prince of Francavilla.--Duel between
  Crequi and Philippin, brother of the Duke of Savoy.--Tournament
  between twelve Frenchmen and twelve Italians.--Beccaria’s
  reasons for the frequency of Duelling in Italy.--Science of
  Assassination.--Duelling at Malta.--Singular Duel at Valetta
  between Signor Vasconcellos and M. de Foulquerre.                  303


  CHAPTER XVIII.

  DUELLING IN SPAIN.

  Rise of Duelling in Spain.--Combat between four Spanish
  Knights and four Arabs of the tribe of Zegris.--Edict of
  Charles the Fifth against Duelling.--The Santa Hermandada.--Loyola’s
  Challenge to a Moor for denying the Divinity of
  the Saviour.--Challenges to Bishops or Canons prohibited.--Duelling
  punished in Portugal with Transportation.--Rarity
  of Duelling in Portugal.--Bombastic Challenge sent by General
  O’Donnel to the Christino Brigadier Lopez.                         329


  CHAPTER XIX.

  DUELLING IN GERMANY AND THE NORTH OF EUROPE.

  Duelling abolished in Iceland, after the fatal Meeting between
  the Poets Gunnlang and Rafn.--Laws of Duelling in
  Sweden, Norway, and Denmark.--Scandinavian Combats.--Anecdote
  of Gustavus the Second.--Romantic Trial by Ordeal
  in the Case of Maria of Aragon.--Edict of Frederick the
  Second against Duelling.--Edicts issued in Bavaria and the
  Austrian States.--Joseph the Second’s Sentiments on Duelling.--Anecdotes
  of Charles the Twelfth.--Duels among German
  Officers--and the Students at Jena.--A romantic Duel.--Madame
  de Staël’s observations on duelling in Germany.--Russian
  laws against Duelling.--Anecdotes.--Judicial Combats
  in Poland.--Frequency of Duelling among the Exiled
  Poles.                                                             337


  CHAPTER XX.

  DUELLING IN BELGIUM AND HOLLAND.

  Legend of the Abbey of Cambrai, and the duel between
  Jean le Flamand and a Jew.--Celebrated combat at Valenciennes
  in maintenance of an ancient franchise.--Duel between
  Arnold d’Egmont and his son.--Between M. Rogier and M.
  Gendebien.--Between M. Eenens and M. Pariset.--Order for
  punishing duellists in the Belgian army                            361


  CHAPTER XXI.

  DUELLING IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

  Frequency and reckless ferocity of duels in the United
  States.--Endeavours in several States to check the practice.--First
  notorious duel in America.--Challenge of Mr. Randolph,
  a senator, by General Wilkinson.--Duel between Viscount de
  Noailles and Alexandre de Tilly.--Between General Hamilton
  and Colonel Burr.--Between Stephen Price and Captain Wilson.--Duelling
  in the West Indies.--Duel in Jamaica between
  M. d’Egville and Captain Stewart.--Between two planters.--Duelling
  in Martinique.--Duels amongst people of colour                     371


  CHAPTER XXII.

  DUELLING IN THE EAST                                               394




HISTORY OF DUELLING.




CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTORY OBSERVATIONS.


While calmly perusing the annals of duelling, we cannot but be
amazed when we behold, in the present day of pretended intellectual
perfection, this practice adopted in a society which prides itself upon
its boasted high state of civilization.

The details of ancient duels and single combats, which in fact were
little better than qualified murders, may be revolting from their
barbarous excesses; yet no study will tend more effectually to rub off
from the pictorial romance of history its deceptive varnish, than that
of duelling, its progress, and its occasional comparative disappearance
when it ceased to be fashionable, or resorted to by the upper classes
of society.

The very origin of duelling should make us blush at its
permanency,--springing from the darkest eras of barbarism, when
scarcely a vestige was left, in the wreck of empires, of ancient
glory, and of those arts, sciences, and polite accomplishments that
had distinguished preceding ages, and of which the scattered ruins and
tradition alone remained, fearful records of the vanity of earthly
grandeur and mortal fame.

The martial and independent spirit of Rome was extinct. Sybarite
luxury had succeeded its days of iron; and civilization, degraded by
over refinement into effeminacy, had built palaces, but overthrown
the barriers against invasion. This weakness was felt, tried,
and overwhelmed. Swarms of barbarians overran that once great
dominion,--the torrent swept all before it, and famine and pestilence
marched in the train of the savage invaders; every institution that
policy had laboured to establish was overthrown; and, for centuries,
scarcely a vestige was to be traced of law, justice, or reason. The
right of the sword was the only authority recognised; and a feudal
system divided mankind into lords and slaves. Turbulence, oppression,
and rapine were called government. The Deity was supposed to be
propitiated by deeds of blood; while religion became a useful mask
for the hypocrite, and was confined to the observance of external
ceremonies.

It was during this dark period that the practice of trials by
ordeal,[1] duelling, and single combat reigned paramount; and, when we
consider the state of society into which mankind were brutalized, we
cannot wonder at this mode of deciding differences being considered the
wisest and most just. This epoch cannot be better described than in the
fitting passage of Robertson:

“To repel injuries and to revenge wrongs, is no less natural to man,
than to cultivate friendships; and, while society remains in its
most simple state, the former is considered as a personal right no
less inalienable than the latter. Nor do men in this situation deem
that they have a title to redress their own wrongs alone; they are
touched with the injuries done to those with whom they are connected,
or in whose honour they are interested, and are no less prompt to
avenge them. The savage, how imperfectly soever he may comprehend the
principle of political union, feels warmly the sentiments of social
affection, and the obligations arising from the ties of blood. On the
appearance of an injury or an affront offered to his family or tribe,
he kindles into rage, and pursues the author of it with the keenest
resentment. He considers it as cowardly to expect redress from any
arm but his own, and as infamous to give up to another the right of
determining what reparation he should accept, or with what vengeance he
should be satisfied.”

Here we find the ground-work of duelling,--and it is to be lamented,
that man, even in a progressive state of civilization, differs little
from the savage in his thirst for gratifying the degrading indulgence
of revenge.

Let us strip the romantic days of chivalry of their fantastic and
glittering panoply,--the hall of wassail of its pomp and beauty,--the
troubadour’s fond theme of its florid attractions,--and the feats of
knighthood in the cause of the ladies loved _par amours_ of their
Quixotic devotion,--and what shall we behold? Treachery and ferocity
of the blackest die,--profligacy and debauchery of the most revolting
nature,--vice clad by a morbid imagination in the most fascinating garb
of virtue,--and a murderer’s brow laurelled by beauty’s hand, instead
of falling under the headsman’s axe!

Balzac has truly said that we might travel to the world’s end upon _a
word_. If we could but define certain _words_, and make that definition
recognized by society, which is drawn by reason, instead of fashion
and prejudice, how much more happy might we not be! Then should we
know the real meaning of the words, “liberty, glory, honour, love,
courage,”--now fantastic idols, at whose shrine so much blood has
been vainly shed!--while, by a strange perversion of human intellect,
_satisfaction_ has been considered to consist in the probable
aggravation of our own sufferings, and the misery of all those whom we
hold dear.

It would be anticipating further observations on this important point,
to dwell longer upon it in this place. In the following pages are
recorded the most celebrated duels of various ages, and of different
countries. In their perusal we may shudder at the atrocity of the
details, and flatter ourselves with the idea that the present times are
more civilized, but reflection will convince us that we are in error;
the causes and the effects of the evil continue the same,--the one
equally frivolous, the other equally disgraceful, and equally criminal.
Not only will the history of duelling throw considerable light on
the history of the times, but it will materially tend to illustrate
the manners and the institutions of society at the different periods
of its progression towards a more humanized condition; at the same
time we shall see what has been the effect of example in sanctioning
or discouraging the practice. In the history of duelling we read the
history of mankind in the developement of our evil passions, and the
occasional display of some redeeming qualities. It is a reflective
mirror stained with blood, and we must wipe off the clotted gore of
ages to contemplate truth in all its bearings, to feel what miserable
creatures we are!--the occasional foot-balls of vanity and pride, or
the tools of ambition and hypocrisy, but always the victims of ideal
pursuits and visionary joys! Worldly pomp and all its attractions--its
honours and its glories--remind one of the vain youth who embraces the
career of arms, to sport a dazzling uniform. Behold him now moving
in a galaxy of military splendour; soon after, alas! stretched upon
the battle-field, alone, abandoned; wounded and faint, not a drop of
water to moisten his burning lips, not a friendly hand to raise him
from the ground, while, thinking on the home that he has left, and the
friends whom he shall never see more, he gazes on the embroidery of his
lacerated costume! The dream is passed! sad reality ushers in despair!

As it was from France that the practice of duelling was introduced
into the British isles, I shall first follow the history of the
practice during the several reigns of that monarchy, and bring it up
progressively through the revolutionary era to the present day; I shall
then trace the progress of single combat in the other countries of
Europe; and finally illustrate this execrable relict of barbarism as at
different periods it prevailed in our own country.

The advantage that may arise from thus chronicling, in all their
hideous details, such scenes of blood and turbulence, may be
questionable, yet one result seems to be obvious: if the records
of noble deeds are calculated to produce a praiseworthy emulation
in youthful minds,--to inspire generous feelings and justifiable
ambition,--may not the annals of what may be called honourable
aberrations lead us to come to a just conclusion on a subject so long
mooted and advocated (as we shall see in another part of this history)
by as many eloquent men as it has been condemned by others of an
equally persuasive authority? It is no doubt true, that the perusal
of the Newgate Calendar has seldom or never deterred a youthful tyro
in guilt from the commission of further offences; but a relation of
absurdities (for such must be considered the origin of most duels) is,
perhaps, more likely to prove beneficial than tales of terror. Such
is the force of prejudice, that ridicule is more dreaded than merited
contumely. A man of the world prefers the charge of murder to the
ignominious brand of cowardice.

The difficulty of suppressing duelling has been but too generally
admitted, and it is therefore considered an unavoidable evil. To
mitigate it by such regulations as are most likely to render it less
fatal, and afford a more equal chance to the parties unfortunately
compelled to submit to society’s capricious laws, has, therefore,
been a task which various experienced duellists have undertaken,
more especially in France. In the following pages will be found three
several codes, if such they may be called, an observance of which may
prevent many fatal rencontres, and, when they do take place, much
effusion of blood and frequent loss of life.




CHAPTER II.

ON DUELLING AMONGST THE ANCIENTS, AND IN OLDEN TIMES.


Whatever may have been the opinion of Brantôme, and other writers on
this subject, it is evident that the practice of duelling was unknown
to the ancients. History, no doubt, has recorded the personal conflicts
of several of their warriors, who have called each other out to single
combat in presence of their respective armies; and also of various
bands of distinguished individuals, who have maintained the honour of
their national character in presence of arbiters named to judge the
combatants. Thus do we find Achilles contending with Hector, Turnus
with Æneas; while Eteocles with seven of his companions in arms defeats
his brother Polynices with an equal number of followers. In the Roman
annals we read of the conflict between the Horatii and the Curiatii;
the combats of Manlius, Valerius Corvinus, Sergius, and Marcellus:
while the records of Greece have registered the meeting of Pittacus of
Mitylene, and Phrynon the general of the Athenians. In this instance,
Pittacus, who was one of the seven wise men of Greece, displayed his
wisdom by showing that “the better part of valour was discretion;” for,
having concealed a net in his shield, he did so entangle his antagonist
therewith, that he fell an easy prey to his combined courage and
cunning.

The ancients were certainly in the habit of putting to the test the
courage and dexterity of wrestlers in the _Pancration_. The combatants
were obliged to present themselves several days before the fight, and
to undergo a strict examination; no slave or malefactor, nor any one
related to such, being admitted to the contest. The selection of the
combatants was decided by lot; various balls, each of which was marked
with a letter, were put into a box, and the first two who drew balls
of the same letter were matched against each other, and continued the
struggle until one of them yielded, by holding up his finger. In this
contest the prize was adjudged by umpires, amongst whom, according to
Pausanias, certain ladies in disguise managed to introduce themselves,
to bestow the palm of victory upon their favourite champion; in
consequence of which it was ordered that in future the judges should
sit unclothed with the victorial garlands before them.

Many of these combats were mortal, and attended with circumstances of
great ferocity. At first the parties fought with fists, into which
were introduced balls of stone, iron, or some hard substance. The
_Cæstus_ was then introduced,--a heavy glove or gauntlet of thick
leather studded with nails and pellets of iron or brass: hence fatal
results were most frequent. Anacharsis the Scythian observed, that
he admired how the Grecians could so much honour and encourage this
exercise, when, by their laws, all violence and injury were severely
punished. Ælian mentions a Crotonian Pancratiast who dropped down dead
while they were carrying him to the judges to receive the garland.
The same author relates the case of another pugilist, who, having
received a blow in the mouth that knocked in all his teeth, swallowed
them together with the blood that followed, in order to conceal from
his antagonist an injury that might have induced him to continue the
contest with greater ardour. Pausanias relates several extraordinary
instances of the kind: one of a man named Arrachion, who had been
twice crowned at the Olympic games, who fought and conquered all who
entered the lists against him till but one remained, who, running
violently upon him, at the same time entangled him with his feet, and
with his hand grappled his throat, which strangled him; but, before
Arrachion expired, he broke off a toe of his adversary, which gave
him such pain that he died on the spot. The judges ordered the dead
body of Arrachion to be crowned with the palm of victory. Two other
combatants, named Creugas and Damoxenus, fought until weary with
equal advantage, when it was agreed that the combat should end, and
be decided by two blows on the same part; that is, he who gave the
first blow, should suffer the other to return it on the same place.
It fell by lot to Creugas, who struck his antagonist on the head,
which almost stunned him; Damoxenus, afterwards, in violation of the
conditions, seized Creugas under the ribs, and with his nails tore
out his bowels. The victorious wreath was bestowed upon Creugas, and
his treacherous opponent was banished. In these combats killing was
judged neither criminal nor punishable. Our modern boxing is little
more than a continuance of this practice, which cannot possibly be
said to constitute duelling, in which a personal injury is supposed,
at least, to have been received by the challenging party. In modern
times, as I shall shortly show, ladies have been known to fight duels;
but it appears that, if pugilistic feats are to be considered such,
the fair sex of antiquity offer a flattering precedent. Not only did
Roman ladies patronize these amusements by their presence, but they
themselves not unfrequently stepped into the lists; according to
Tacitus, ladies of quality were of the number. Juvenal, in his sixth
satire, and Statius, have noticed the practice. It is true that they
did not fight “altogether naked,” as Cockburn quaintly expresses it,
but were dressed like those who were called the Samnites, wearing a
shield calculated to protect the breast and shoulders, and growing
more narrow towards the bottom, that it might be used with greater
convenience.

Not only were women admitted as gladiators, but dwarfs also were
matched against each other. If we have seen nobles and knights of more
modern times making destruction a pastime, they too could adduce the
example of the ancients. Although gladiators were usually slaves or
captives, yet freemen and men of rank soon put in their claims to be
allowed publicly to destroy each other. Grave senators, to court the
favour of their imperial masters, descended into the arena. Augustus
was obliged to command that none of the senatorian order should turn
gladiators, and soon after laid the same restraint upon knights. These
prohibitions were little regarded, since we find Nero exhibiting in
one show four hundred senators and six hundred of the equestrian rank.
It was chiefly during his reign, and that of Domitian, that the ladies
partook of the diversion.

Still, in the midst of this savage practice, we find no traces of
duelling, either as an amusement or a satisfaction; and the ladies,
instead of procuring champions to fight their quarrels, very
independently maintained their own rights.

In more modern times we read in chronicles of various national
conflicts of a similar nature. Such was the battle called that of
the _Thirty_, when that number of Englishmen and Frenchmen contended
for superiority. Richard Bembrough, an English chief commanding the
garrison of Ploërmel, anxious to avenge the death of his comrade Thomas
Dagarne, killed before Auray, had ravaged the surrounding country,
carrying desolation into every quarter, and murdering indiscriminately
traders, artisans, and labourers. The Sire de Beaumanoir, a gentleman
of Britanny, asked for a conference; which being granted, he
remonstrated with Bembrough on his conduct, reproaching him with
waging a cruel and foul warfare, by attacking unarmed and helpless
individuals. The British captain, who considered himself insulted by
these reproaches, proudly answered, that it little became him and his
followers to compare themselves with Englishmen. Beaumanoir immediately
challenged him to a trial of arms, which was as readily accepted by
Bembrough. The place appointed for the meeting was at a certain ancient
oak-tree, between Ploërmel and Josselin; and, on the appointed day,
thirty combatants appeared on each side, while all the nobility of the
district crowded to the spot to witness the conflict.

Before giving the signal of the onset, Bembrough, it appears, had some
scruples; as he considered that the battle would be irregular unless
he had received the permission of his prince: he therefore wished to
postpone the battle until such leave was obtained. To this proposal the
sturdy _Breton_ would not agree, but insisted upon immediately deciding
which of the two was the better man, and was loved by the fairest lady;
the Countess de Blois being the lady of Beaumanoir’s affection.

The conflict was desperate; and the French chronicler states that
nearly all the English bit the dust, the wounded being despatched by
the conquerors. Bembrough was killed by a certain Alain de Kaërenrech,
when on the point of assailing Beaumanoir. The latter, being grievously
wounded, asked for drink, when one of his companions, the Sire de
Teuteniac, charitably told him to drink his own blood, and that would
quench his untimely thirst.[2]

In 1404 another combat of the same description took place, between
seven French and seven English knights, before the castle of Montendre,
in Saintonge; Charles VII. having selected Arnault Guillem de Barbazas
to lead on the French against their antagonists, commanded by the
Lord Scales. The combat took place in presence of both armies; Jean
de Harpedene and the Earl of Rutland having been appointed arbiters by
their respective monarchs. Here again, according to Moreri, the French
arms were triumphant; and Barbazas was honoured with the title of the
_Chevalier sans reproche_, and allowed to bear the _fleur de lis_
without a bar on his escutcheon, Charles VII. moreover ordained that he
should receive sepulchral honours in the church of St. Denis, and be
buried by his own side.

At various periods we see sovereigns challenging each other, but
reserving to themselves the option of accepting or declining the
combat. Thus, Francis I, when a prisoner of Charles V, conceived
himself insulted when the latter monarch very justly reproached him
with having broken his royal word, by violating every promise which he
had made to him; for, in order to obtain his liberty, the French prince
made many solemn promises, amongst others the cession of Burgundy,
which he broke so soon as he was free, on the plea of having acted
under _moral violence_. A similar plea was adduced, during the late
war, by the many French prisoners who so repeatedly broke their parole.
The challenge of the French King is so curious and bombastic, and so
unbefitting a man who had just violated every law of honour, that it is
worth translating.

“We, Francis, by the grace of God, &c. to you, Charles, by the same
grace, King of Spain, do maintain that if you accuse me of having done
any act unbecoming a gentleman jealous of his honour, we tell you
that you have lied in your throat so often as you may have made, or
shall make, such an assertion. And, as we are determined to defend our
honour to the end of our life, we protest that, after this declaration,
in whatever place you either speak or write any matter against our
honour, any delay in the combat shall, to your shame, be attributed to
you, as your attending this challenge will put an end to all further
correspondence.”

Charles V. did accept the challenge, and sent to the French King a
herald, bearing what was called _la sureté du camp_, to appoint time
and place. The French monarch, however, received the messenger in
the hall of the Louvre in presence of all his court and the foreign
ambassadors; when, strange to say, in the exercise of his kingly power,
he would not permit the herald to open his lips; thus pusillanimously
avoiding a meeting he had so impudently provoked.

What made this gasconading worse than ridiculous was, the circumstance
of Francis applying to Pope Clement VII. for absolution for having
ceded Flanders and Artois; thus requiring absolution for the
maintenance of an oath that he could not violate, without asking for
a similar exoneration for the breach of the solemn promise he had
made to give up Burgundy. Voltaire has truly said of this rodomontade,
“_Tant d’appareil n’aboutit qu’au ridicule, dont le trône même ne
garantit pas les hommes_.”

Not unfrequently was this recourse to arms declined both in ancient and
modern times. Metellus in Spain refused the challenge of Sertorius;
Antigonus was defied by Pyrrhus; and Marius sent word to a Teutonic
chief, who urged him to a personal trial of prowess, that, if he was
tired of life, he had better hang himself.

Our Edward III. provoked Philippe de Valois to a similar trial, either
in single combat, or by an action of a hundred against a hundred men;
when the latter declined the meeting, alleging that a vassal could
not encounter his sovereign, Edward having done homage to him for
the duchy of Guienne: but subsequently, when the arms of Edward were
triumphant, Philip expressed a desire to accept the former challenge;
the victorious monarch, however, in his turn very wisely declined
a meeting which would have staked the glory he had obtained on the
hazard of a doubtful rencontre. To the first challenge of Edward,
Philip had replied, that he offered to hazard his own person only,
against both the kingdom of France and the person of its King; but that
if the latter would increase the stake, and put also the kingdom of
England on the issue of the meeting, he would very willingly accept
the challenge. Hume very justly observes, that “it was easy to see
that these mutual bravadoes were intended only to dazzle the populace,
and that the two kings were much too wise to think of executing their
pretended purpose.”

Christian IV. of Denmark answered a defiance of Charles IX. of Sweden
by strongly advising him to take a dose of hellebore; and Charles
Gustavus, when similarly circumstanced with Frederick of Denmark,
simply replied, that he only fought in good company. In our own days
Gustavus IV. challenged Napoleon; and the only reply he received from
the French Emperor is said to have been, that he would send him a
fencing-master as a plenipotentiary, with whom he might arrange the
proceeding.

Duels, as I have before said, were unknown amongst the ancients,
however acute and fastidious might have been their feelings of what is
called honour, and the duties which it imposes. The lie--the blow--the
most slanderous abuse--were not then considered a stain upon a man’s
character requiring an appeal to arms in order to verify the old
saying, that the dead are always in the wrong. When Eurybiades raised
his stick against Themistocles, the youthful hero merely replied,
“Strike, but listen to me!” Lycurgus did not deem it necessary to
avenge the blow he received from Alcander, although it deprived him of
an eye; nor did Cæsar bring Cato to account for the ridicule he heaped
upon him in the senate. Agrippa, one of the bravest chiefs of Augustus,
allowed the son of Cicero to throw a cup at his head; and it appears
that this rude custom often prevailed at their festive boards.

Cæsar relates that two of his centurions, who could never agree,
decided that they should both rush on the ranks of the enemy, to put
each other’s valour to the test. Sophocles, being advised to prosecute
a man who had struck him, calmly replied, “If a donkey kicked me, would
you recommend me to go to law?” Indeed, the Roman law clearly stated
that a blow did not dishonour,--_Ictus fustium infamiam non importat_.

The advocates of personal meetings have gone so far as to maintain that
duels are recorded in Holy Writ, for such they consider the murder of
Abel, and the combat between David and Goliath: they have also compared
the combats of the Roman gladiators to duelling,--a most absurd view
of the subject, since those victims of Roman ferocity entertained no
personal hostility towards each other; and Sully, in his Memoirs,
justly observes, that “duellists have revived the base profession of
gladiators, and rendered themselves more contemptible and hateful than
the unfortunates who bore that name.”




CHAPTER III.

THE ORIGIN OF DUELLING.


Since no traces of this practice can be found in the records of
antiquity, we must seek for its origin in more modern times, and we
shall find that it arose from an association of brute courage with
superstition of the most credulous and degrading nature. In those rude
ages when personal valour and prowess were considered the greatest
qualifications for public and private estimation, the strongest was
sure to rule. Religion and love, two of the most mighty levers of
mankind, were soon associated to warrant the commission of the most
ruthless excesses, and the palm of victory was supposed to be suspended
over the head of each combatant by the Deity and woman: a just cause
could be maintained by the sword alone, and true love only proved by
the lance.

The barbarous courage of the northern nations has been fully
illustrated by their historian Tacitus, and it was their firm belief
that both public and private quarrels could only be decided by
single combat; when we consider that these savage and superstitious
hordes afterwards overran the whole of Europe, the practice of a
personal appeal to arms may be easily traced to their irruption in
the fifth century, when their innumerable masses poured forth from
their ancient and gloomy forests, to seek a more congenial clime, and
a more profitable field for the display of their overwhelming power.
The Anglo-Saxons inundated the British isles; while the Lombards, the
Suevi, the Vandals, the Visigoths and Ostrogoths, established their
iron sway in Italy, Spain, Portugal, and Sarmatia.[3]

Thus did these barbarians establish an universal _militarism_, the
parent of feudality--its first-born offspring, when only two classes
were recognised in society--the powerful and the weak--the lord and
the villain. The soldier and the militant priest reigned with despotic
rule; all learning and intellectual improvement were considered hostile
to their mighty power, and every institution that they framed was
consistent with ignorance and barbarity.[4]

To give their decrees a greater moral weight, they were clothed with
the sanctity of a divine law. The sword was considered the only mode
of arbitrating between right and wrong. Whatever the priest had
stigmatized by bell, book, and candle, was considered detestable in the
eyes of God, and therefore doomed to worldly destruction: plunged in an
abyss of apathetic stupidity in all matters where judgment should have
decided, or hurried headlong by a vortex of superstitious fears, man
had no light to guide him but the _ignis fatuus_ of bigotry.

All these barbarous races knew no other mode of deciding differences
but that of brute force. Tacitus informs us that, when a tribe of
Germans contemplated a war with any neighbouring race, they endeavoured
to take one of them prisoner, and, by setting the captive to fight
one of their own people, formed an idea of their chances of success.
Plutarch informs us that Alexander tried the same expedient ere he
commenced his attack on Darius.[5]

In vain had the Romans endeavoured to civilize the Cimbri and the
Teutones. In vain did Varus seek to arbitrate amongst them, and
terminate their bloody feuds; if, for a moment they seemed to yield to
his suggestions, it was the better to conceal their preparations for
the destructive insurrection they meditated.

A speedy recourse to arms must have been the natural result of any
difference that arose amongst men who never assembled but in warlike
array, whether the object of the meeting was public or private: and,
superstition inducing them to believe that the gods would shield the
innocent, an “ordeal” was established, by which the accuser was to make
good his assertions, and the accused defend his innocence; and these
combats were thence called _judicial_.[6]

The first legal establishment of these ordeals is to be found in the
laws of Gundebald, King of the Burgundians, A. D. 501. This
law enacted that Gundebald, being fully convinced that many of his
“subjects suffered themselves to be corrupted by their avarice, or
hurried on by their obstinacy, so as to attest by oath what they knew
not, or what they knew to be false: in order to put a stop to such
scandalous practices, whenever two Burgundians are at variance, if the
defendant shall swear that he owes not what is demanded of him, or that
he is not guilty of the crime laid to his charge; and the plaintiff,
on the other hand, not satisfied therewith, shall declare that he is
ready to maintain, sword in hand, the truth of what he advances; if
the defendant does not then acquiesce, it shall be lawful for them to
decide the controversy by dint of sword. This is likewise understood
of the witnesses of either party; it being just that every man should
be ready to defend with his sword the truth which he attests, and to
submit himself to the judgment of Heaven.”

To a certain extent, to the shame of the civilized world be it said,
this savage and absurd decree is acted upon in the present age!

The manner in which these judicial combats were carried on was equally
ferocious and disgusting. “The accuser was with the peril of his own
body to prove the accused guilty; and, by offering his glove, to
challenge him to this trial, which the other must either accept, or
else acknowledge himself culpable of the crime whereof he was accused.
If it were a crime deserving death, then was the combat for life and
death either on horseback or on foot. If the offence only deserved
imprisonment, then was the combat accomplished when the one had subdued
the other, by forcing him to yield, or disabling him from defending
himself. The accused had the liberty to choose a champion in his stead;
but the accuser must appear in his own person, and with equality of
weapons. No women were allowed to behold the contest, nor male children
under the age of thirteen. The priests and the people did silently pray
that the victory might fall on the guiltless; and, if the fight were
for life or death, a bier stood ready to carry away the dead body of
him who should be slain. None of the people might cry out, shriek, make
any noise, or give any sign whatever; and hereunto, at Hall in Suevia,
(a place appointed for a camp-fight,) was so great a regard taken, that
the executioner stood beside the judges, ready with his axe to cut
off the right hand and left foot of any party so offending. He that,
being wounded, did yield himself, was at the mercy of the other, to be
killed or allowed to live: if he were slain, he was buried honourably,
and he that slew him reputed more honourable than before; but if, being
overcome, he was left alive, then was he declared by the judges void of
all honest report, and never after allowed to ride on horseback or to
carry arms.”

In later days, the Burgundians, faithful to their early institutions,
and the Flemish citizens governed by the Duke of Burgundy, used to
settle their disputes in a manner somewhat similar. In imitation of the
ancient athletæ, who anointed their bodies with oil, these worthies
smeared themselves over with tallow or hog’s lard, and then, with a
buckler and club, fell to; having first dipped their hands in ashes,
and filled their mouths with honey or sugar. They then contended until
one of the parties was killed,--and the survivor was hanged for his
trouble.

As civilization improved, the ladies were allowed to witness these
exhibitions; and a curious duel is related by Brantôme. At the
coronation of Henry II, a dispute arose between a Baron des Guerres
and a certain Seigneur de Faudilles, and they applied for a “field”
to settle the quarrel: the sovereign, however, had made a vow not to
sanction any duel since the death of his favourite De la Chasteneraye;
and they therefore met at Sedan, which was under the sovereignty
of Monsieur de Bouillon. The combatants appeared after all due
preparation; Le Sieur de Faudilles having lighted a fire and set up
a gallows, to the which he intended to suspend the corpse of his
antagonist. They were both attended by their _parrains_; the baron
being armed with a peculiar sort of sword, called _épée bâtarde_, the
dexterous use of which had been taught him by a cunning priest. The
action commenced, when Faudilles ran his sword through the baron’s
thigh, and inflicted a large wound that bled most profusely; then,
throwing away the sword, a wrestling match ensued, the baron being
very expert in this exercise, which had been taught him by a priest
of Brittany, a chaplain of Cardinal de Lennicourt. Both parties now
belaboured each other furiously, although from loss of blood the baron
was every moment becoming more weak; until a scaffolding, upon which
were collected a vast throng of ladies and elderly gentlemen assembled
to see the fight, broke down with a tremendous crash. The outcries
and shrieks of the ladies, with limbs bruised and fractured, added to
the general uproar, the bystanders not knowing whom they should first
assist,--the combatants, who, sprawling on the ground, were still
pummelling each other; or the affrighted ladies: while the relations
and friends of the baron, perceiving that he was becoming more
enfeebled, roared out, “_Throw sand in his eyes and mouth--sand--sand
in his eyes and mouth!_” which advice they dared not have given but
for the interruption of the fall of the scaffolding; for the bystanders
were not allowed to speak, move, or even blow their noses: the baron
took the hint, and lost no time in seizing a handful of sand, and
cramming it into the eyes and mouth of his opponent, who gave in,
amidst the loud shouts of the spectators, some approving and others
blaming the stratagem; the baron’s friends asserted that his opponent
had yielded, which his party as firmly denied; and had it not been for
M. de Bouillon, the judge of the “field,” both parties would have come
to blows.

These barbarous ordeals and judicial combats were managed with great
solemnity: the ground being selected, as we have seen in the last duel,
a large fire was kindled, and a gallows erected for the accommodation
of the vanquished; two seats, covered with black, were also prepared
for the combatants, on which they received certain admonitions, and
were made to enter into various obligations, such as to swear on
the Holy Evangelists that they had not had recourse to any sorcery,
witchcraft, or incantation. Each combatant selected his seconds, who
were styled _parrains_, or _godfathers_, and who at first had no
other duties to perform than to guard with vigilance the rights and
privileges of their principals, but who were afterwards obliged either
to support or to avenge their champion. This practice arose in France,
amongst the “_mignons_” of Henry III, in 1578, having been introduced
from Italy.

These preliminaries settled, the champions were to take God, the
Virgin Mary, and all the saints, more especially _Monsieur St. George,
chevalier_, to witness that their cause was a just one, and that they
would maintain it; having previously attended the celebration of mass,
the forms of which are still to be found in certain old missals, where
it is called _Missa pro duello_. The advantages of ground, wind, and
sun, were then fairly divided; and, not unfrequently, sweetmeats
and sugar-plums were distributed at the same time. The arms of the
combatants were next measured; and, when they had taken their ground,
the marshal of the “field” exclaimed “_Let go the good champions!_”
During the fight no one was allowed to speak, to cough, spit, sneeze,
blow his nose, or, in short, do anything that could possibly disturb
the combatants, or communicate a preconcerted signal or advice.

The weapons admitted in these meetings were a double-edged straight
sword, a cuirass, a buckler, and a lance when the combatants were
mounted. _Villains_ were only allowed to decide their differences with
cudgels.

In the reign of St. Louis (1283), these combats not only took place
between the principals, but were allowed between one of the parties
and the witnesses of his opponent; and, in the event of such witness
being discomfited, his evidence was considered perjury. The latitude of
impeaching an accusation went further; for the accused, found guilty
upon evidence, could sometimes tell the judge that he had asserted a
falsehood, in which case he was obliged to give him satisfaction sword
in hand.

The form of denial was most eloquent:--“_Thou liest, and I am ready
to defend my body against thine; and thou shalt either be a corpse or
a recreant any hour of the day: and this is my gage_.” So saying, the
appellant knelt, and presented a glove, or some other gage, to his
accuser.

This privilege granted the accused, was, however, only allowed when the
judge was not his lord or suzerain; in the which case, his presuming to
doubt his judgment and hereditary wisdom was not deemed a felony; for,
in other cases, as Desfontaines has it, “_Between thee, my lord, and
thy villains, there is no other Judge than God_.”

In certain cases of physical inability, and where women and the clergy
were concerned, a battle by proxy was allowed; and regular bravoes,
called _champions_, were employed,--a trade rather perilous, since
their right hand was lopped off in the event of their being worsted,
perhaps to encourage their companions to more zeal on the behalf of
their clients, or more dexterity. The case of the principals was not
much pleasanter; for, while their champions were discussing the point,
they were kept out of the lists with a rope round their necks, and the
one who was beaten by proxy was forthwith hanged in person, although in
certain cases they were indulged with decapitation.

A gentleman could call out a villain, but the villain had not the
slightest right to demand satisfaction from his superior; therefore
he had no other resource than an appeal to the trial of hot iron, and
water boiling or cold, which was conducted in the following manner:

In the trial by hot iron, the defendant was obliged to hold a heated
plate of iron for a certain time in his hand; his hand was then
bandaged, and a seal affixed upon it. When this dressing was raised
three days after, if any burn was apparent, his cause was lost. It
appears that proxies with hands callous and fireproof were often
procured for this operation.[7]

In the trial by hot water, the accused was ordered to withdraw a
consecrated ring from a vessel filled with boiling water. In the ordeal
of cold water, the patient was thrown into a pond with his hands and
feet tied up. If he did not sink, his guilt was evident; inasmuch as,
the water having previously received a priest’s blessing in Latin, its
refusal to receive the patient was a convincing proof of his unholiness
and criminality.

There was another test of guilt, called the ordeal of the cross. The
prisoner having declared his innocence upon oath, and appealed to the
judgment, two sticks were prepared exactly like each other, and the
figure of the cross was cut upon one of them; each of them was then
wrapped up in wool, and placed upon a relic on the altar. After proper
prayers, a priest took up one of the sticks; and, if it was the one
that bore the sign of the cross, the accused was proclaimed innocent.
There was another ordeal of the cross, resorted to in civil cases.
The judges, parties, and all concerned, being assembled in a church,
each of the parties chose a priest, the youngest and stoutest he could
find, to be his representative in the trial. These representatives
were then placed one on each side of some famed crucifix, and, a
signal given, they both at once stretched their arms at full length,
so as to form a cross with their bodies. In this painful posture they
continued to stand while divine service was performing; and the party
whose representative dropped his arm first, lost his cause. Under
Charlemagne, this trial took place to settle litigations on account
of children; but, under Louis le Debonnaire, it was confined to
ecclesiastical disputes.

It is somewhat curious, that similar ordeals have been practised by
various nations in modern times, who, in all probability, never heard
of these ancient absurdities. In the kingdom of Siam, both in criminal
and in civil causes, the parties are made to swallow certain pills;
and the one that is first affected is considered convicted. In Thibet
the plaintiff and defendant are made to take out of a vessel filled
with boiling water a black and a white counter; the one who has the
good luck to draw the white prize is declared innocent, although both
parties are generally so scalded as to be crippled for the remainder of
their days.

It appears that the trial by ordeal was an ancient usage amongst the
Hindoos, and continues to this day to be practised in nine different
ways: 1, by the balance; 2, by fire; 3, by water; 4, by poison; 5, by
cosha, or water in which an idol has been washed; 6, by rice; 7, by
boiling oil; 8, by red-hot iron; and 9, by images.

1. The ordeal by _balance_ is thus performed. The beams having been
adjusted, the cord fixed, and both scales made perfectly even, the
person accused and a Pundit fast a whole day. After the accused has
been bathed in sacred water, the _horna_, or oblation, presented to the
fire, and the deities worshiped, he is carefully weighed; and, when he
is taken out of the scale, the Pundits prostrate themselves before it,
pronounce a certain _mentra_, or incantation, agreeably to the Sastra;
and, having written the substance of the accusation on a piece of
paper, bind it on his head. Six minutes after they place him again in
the scale; and, if he weigh more than before, he is held guilty; if
less, innocent; but, if exactly the same, he must be weighed a third
time, when, as it is written in the _mitacshera_, there will certainly
be a difference in his weight. Should the balance, though well fixed,
break down, this circumstance would be considered as a damning proof of
criminality.

2. In the _fire ordeal_, an excavation nine hands long, two spans
broad, and one span deep, is made in the ground, and filled with a fire
of pippal wood. Into this the person accused must walk bare-footed;
and, if his foot be unhurt, they hold him guiltless.

3. The _water ordeal_ is performed by causing the person accused
to stand in a certain depth of water, either flowing or stagnant,
sufficient to reach his middle; but care is taken that no ravenous
animal be in it, and that it be not moved by much air. A Brachman is
then directed to go into the water, holding a staff in his hand; and
a soldier shoots three arrows on dry ground from a bow of cane. A man
is then despatched to bring the arrow that has been shot the farthest;
and, after he has taken it up, another is ordered to run from the edge
of the water: at which instant, the person accused is told to grasp the
foot, or the staff, of the Brachman, who stands near him in the water,
and immediately to dive. He must remain under water till the two men
who went to fetch the arrows are returned; for, if he raise his head or
body above the surface before the arrows are brought back, his guilt is
considered as fully proved. A peculiar species of water ordeal prevails
on the coast of Malabar: a person accused of any enormous crime is
obliged to swim over a large river abounding with crocodiles, and, if
he escapes unhurt, he is esteemed innocent.

4. The trials by _poison_ are of two sorts. In the first, the Pundits
having performed their horna, and the accused person his ablution, two
_rettis_ and a half, or seven barleycorns, of Vishanaga, a poisonous
root, or of Sanc’hya, or white arsenic, are mixed in eight marhas
of clarified butter, which the accused must eat from the hand of a
Brachman. If the poison produce no effect, he is declared innocent.

In the second method, the hooded snake, called _naga_, is thrown into a
deep earthen pot, into which is dropped a ring, coin, or seal. This the
accused person is ordered to take out; and, if the serpent bite him, he
is pronounced guilty.

5. In the trial by _cosha_, the accused is made to drink three draughts
of the water in which the images of the Sun, Devi, and other deities
have been washed for that purpose; and if within fourteen days he has
any sickness or indisposition, his crime is considered as proved.

6. In the trial by _rice_, which is resorted to under accusation of
theft, some dry rice is weighed with the sacred stone called _salgram_,
or certain _slocas_ are read over it; after which the suspected persons
are severally ordered to chew a quantity of it. As soon as they have
chewed it, they are to throw it on some leaves of the _pippal_, or, if
none be at hand, on some _B’hurja patra_, or bark of a tree from Nipal
or Cashmere. The man from whose mouth the rice comes dry, or stained
with blood, is holden guilty.

7. In the ordeal by _hot oil_, the ground appointed for the trial
is cleared, and rubbed with cow-dung; the next day, at sun-rise,
the Pundit worships _Ganesa_, or the Hindoo _Janus_; presents his
oblations, and pays adoration to other deities, conformably to the
_Sastra_. Then, having read the incantations prescribed, he places a
covered pan of gold, silver, copper, iron, or clay, sixteen fingers
broad, and four fingers deep, and throws into it one _S’ér_ or eighty
sicca weight of clarified butter or oil of seramurz. After this a ring
of gold, silver, or iron, is cleaned, washed with water, and cast into
the oil, which they proceed to heat, and, when it is very hot, put into
it a fresh leaf of _pippela_ or of _bilna_. When the leaf is burned,
the oil is known to be sufficiently hot. Then, having pronounced a
_metra_ over the oil, they order the accused to take out the ring; and
if he withdraw it without being burnt, or without a blister on his
hand, his innocence is considered evident.

8. In the _red-hot iron_ trial, an iron ball, or the head of a spear
red-hot, is placed on the hand of the accused.

9. To perform the ordeal by _Dharm’anch_, an image named _Dharma_, as
the genius of justice, is made of silver, and another called _Adharma_,
of clay or iron, both of which are thrown into a large earthen jar; the
accused, having thrust his hand into it, is acquitted if he draw forth
the silver image, but condemned if he bring out the iron. In another
form of this trial, the figure of a deity is painted on white cloth,
and another on black; the first of which is named Dharma, and the
second Adharma. These are severally rolled up in cow-dung, and thrown
into a large jar, without having been shown to the accused, who must
put his hand into the jar, and is acquitted or convicted as he draws
out the figure on the white or black cloth.

A strange and poetical method of deciding a quarrel is said to be
adopted in Greenland: each of the parties is obliged to sing in public
a satirical attack against his opponent, and the production which is
considered the most virulent, or which excites the most mirth, is
deemed conclusive.

The practice of ordeals may be traced to the remotest antiquity. In
Sicily, near the temples of the Palici, were two pools of sulphureous
water, supposed to have sprung from the earth when these deities were
born; the most solemn oaths were taken near these springs by those who
had quarrels to decide. These oaths being inscribed were thrown into
the mystic waters; if they floated upon the surface, innocence was
proved, and the perjured was instantly punished in some supernatural
manner. When both their tests remained buoyant, the oracle was to
decide, and the altars of the Palici were constantly polluted by human
sacrifices.

Amongst the Jews, women accused of adultery were obliged to drink water
in which ashes had been mixed. Grotius mentions many instances of
_water ordeal_ in Bithynia, Sardinia, and other countries.

These ordeals were distinguished into the _Judicium Dei_, or judgment
of God, and the _Vulgaris Purgatio_.

The first account we have of the appeal to the _fire ordeal_ as a proof
of innocence, is that of Simplicius bishop of Autun, in the fourth
century. This prelate, as the story is related, before his promotion
to the episcopal dignity, had married a wife, whom he fondly loved,
but who, being unwilling to leave him after his clerical preferment,
continued to sleep in the same chamber with him. The sanctity of
Simplicius suffered materially, at least on the score of fame, by the
constancy of his wife’s affection; and it was rumoured that the holy
man, though a bishop, persisted, in opposition to the canonical laws,
to taste the sweets of matrimony. Upon which his wife, in the presence
of a great concourse of people, took up a considerable quantity of
burning coals, which she applied to her breast, without the least
hurt to her person or garments. It is needless to add that this was a
sufficient proof of her husband’s innocence. In the fifth century, St.
Brice went through the same trial on a similar occasion.

The ordeal of hot water was resorted to by Lothair the husband of
Teutberge, daughter of a duke of Burgundy, who was accused of incest
with her brother, a monk and deacon; for the which he sought a
dissolution of his marriage, that he might wed his mistress Valrade.
The poor Queen immediately justified herself by proxy, getting her
attorney-general to draw out a blessed ring from a kettle of hot
water; but the obdurate King swore that her champion had recourse to
witchcraft or cunning, and was possessed of some secret that rendered
him proof against hot water. Others, however, were not so incredulous;
and her innocence was proclaimed as having been confirmed by a Divine
judgment, although it appears that the Queen had confessed her guilt to
her confessor. To decide therefore between a supposed Divine judgment
and an admission of her offence became a matter of such a ticklish
nature, that it was very properly submitted to the consideration of two
ecclesiastical councils, who thereupon pronounced a divorce.

Howbeit, Pope Nicholas I, who of course must have known more of the
business than any other earthly power, annulled the decision, and
excommunicated and anathematized Goutier, the archbishop of Cologne,
who had had the impudence to advocate the divorce; but this refractory
prelate’s subsequent conduct showed his criminality, for he thus
animadverts on the pontiff’s act: “Although our lord, Nicholas, whom
people call Pope, has thought proper to excommunicate us, we defy
his nonsense.” Then, having the presumption to address his holiness
personally, he adds: “And let me tell you, we will not receive your
cursed sentence--we despise it; we fling you from our communion, being
perfectly satisfied with that of our bishops and our brethren, whom you
affect to despise.”

This insolent message was carried to Rome by a brother of the
archbishop, who, sword in hand, laid the protestation on the very
sepulchre that, according to tradition, contains the remains of St.
Peter. Nevertheless, the pontiff being succeeded by Adrian II, the
doughty archbishop thought it more prudent to submit to the power of
the Vatican; and therefore, despite his brother’s gasconading over
St. Peter’s sepulchre, addressed the supreme head of the church in the
following highly decorous and respectful language:

“I declare before God and all the saints, more especially to you,
my lord, Adrian, sovereign pontiff, and to all the bishops that are
submitted to your authority, as well as to the Omnipresent, that I
humbly submit myself to the excommunication and dismissal canonically
inflicted upon me by Pope Nicholas,” _&c. &c._

Adrian, thus satisfied, forthwith excommunicates Lothair’s second wife,
and orders that prince immediately to take back his former spouse. Of
course, all Europe was in a state of commotion. The Emperor, Louis II,
uncle of Lothair, takes his part against Pope Adrian, whom he dares
to threaten with an invasion; and all Italy is in a state of alarm.
Queen Teutberge sets off for Rome, so does Valrade her rival, Lothair’s
second wife and his ex-mistress; but her conscience did not allow her
to pursue her journey, and her excommunicated husband was obliged to
repair to Rome to ask the Pope’s pardon, not from any apprehension
of his holiness, but the fear of his uncle, surnamed the _Bald_, who
espoused the pontiff’s cause, put his threat into execution, and
stripped his Majesty of the kingdom of Lorraine.

It appears that Adrian II. was a very fastidious and punctilious man,
and he would not receive Lothair back into the bosom of the church,
despite his most abject excuses, until he swore to him that, since
his predecessor Nicholas had thought proper to order him not to keep
up any further connexion with Valrade, he had in every sense of the
injunction, both in letter and spirit, obeyed the order. To this,
Lothair swore most religiously; and, having done so, he was re-admitted
into the pale, and shortly after died. Historians agree, and there can
be no doubt on the subject, that his death was the just punishment of
his perjury; what confirmed the fact was, the circumstance that all his
followers who had taken a similar oath (although it is somewhat curious
to know how they could have obtained any satisfactory information on so
delicate a subject) died in the course of the same year.




CHAPTER IV.

CELEBRATED JUDICIAL DUELS.


Ancient chronicles have transmitted to us several curious duels that
have taken place, for the purpose of deciding the justice of a cause by
recourse to arms, and maintaining by the sword whatever the lips had
asserted.

The combat that took place in 1371 between Macaire and the dog of
Montargis has been too frequently related and dramatized to need a
repetition. Charles V. was present at the meeting, which took place in
the Isle Notre Dame, in Paris; and Macaire, who was conquered by the
faithful companion of Aubry de Montdidier, was duly hanged. Montfaucon,
in his erudite work, has given an engraving of this event, taken from a
painting preserved in the castle of Montargis.

In 590, Gontran, King of Burgundy, was hunting in the royal forest
of the Vosges, when he found the remains of a stag which had been
killed by some poacher. The game-keeper accused Cherndon the king’s
chamberlain, who, being confronted with his accuser, stoutly denied
the charge. Gontran immediately ordered a combat. A nephew of the
chamberlain was his champion; and in the conflict the game-keeper
received a wound from his lance, which pierced his foot: having fallen
from the severity of the injury, his antagonist rushed upon him to
despatch him, when the prostrate man drew out a knife and ripped up
his antagonist’s belly. The two combatants remained on the field, and
Cherndon endeavoured to seek refuge in the church of St. Marcel; but
Gontran ordered him to be seized and stoned to death.

A curious trial by battle took place in 626. Queen Gundeberge, the
consort of Rharvald King of Lombardy, as much admired for her beauty
and talents as her unimpeachable virtue, had thought it expedient to
drive from her court a certain gossiping slanderous fellow of the name
of Adalulf, who, it appears, had presumed to make some base proposal
to her majesty. Adalulf forthwith, in a fit of revenge, hastened to
the King, and informed him that the sharer of his bed had entered into
a plot to poison him, and to marry the Duke Tason her paramour. The
indignant Rharvald, without further inquiry, banishes the accused from
his presence, and immures her in a castle, although she was nearly
related to the Kings of the Francs. An emissary of Clotaire, however,
indignant at the usage the Queen had received, urged the monarch to
order a judicial contest; and Adalulf was therefore commanded to
prepare himself to meet a cousin of the unfortunate Queen, of the name
of Pithon, who having cut Adalulf’s throat, the innocence of Gundeberge
was made manifest, to the entire satisfaction not only of her royal
husband, but of all the gossips of the court of Burgundy. It was in
consequence of this favourable and satisfactory result, that Grunvalt,
in 668, made some alteration in the laws, by which it was enacted
that ladies placed in a similar situation should enjoy the faculty of
selecting their own champions.

Brantôme relates a case somewhat similar. Ingelgerius, Count of
Gastonois, having been found dead one morning by the side of his wife,
a relation of his, named Gontran, not only accused her of murder,
but of adultery, offering to substantiate the accusation in person.
No one coming forward to defend the afflicted lady, the young Count
of Anjou, Ingelgerius, her godson, to whom she had very kindly given
her husband’s name, presented himself. The youth, who was only in his
sixteenth year, was as anxious to defend his godmother as Cherubino
could have been to defend the Countess Almaviva; and having very
properly and devoutly attended mass, recommended himself to the Divine
protection, distributed alms, and secured himself by carrying with him
the symbol of the cross, he hastened to the lists, where he found his
antagonist prepared to receive him. The countess having duly sworn
both parties, the combatants rushed upon each other. The onset of
Gontran was so fierce that his lance bent in the breast-plate of the
youthful hero, who forthwith, no ways discouraged by the shock, ran his
own through his antagonist’s body: the conqueror nimbly jumped off his
horse, and most dexterously severed the slanderer’s head from his base
body, and laid it at the feet of his sovereign. It is needless to add,
that, the countess’s innocence being thus made manifest, she fondly
embraced her liberator, who, on the following day, was promoted to high
titles and estates.

The rules and regulations were not only frequently drawn out by the
clergy, but ecclesiastics themselves were not always exempted from
liability to a trial by battle. Thus we see in the charter of the abbey
of St. Maur des Fossés, granted by Louis le Gros, that they possessed
_bellandi et certificandi licentiam_.

It is recorded, in the annals of St. Bertin, that the superior
of his abbey in the village of Caumont near Hesdin had to defend
certain rights in the field: the abbot of St. Bertin did not make his
appearance; but two snow-white doves appeared coming from the Saint
himself, and were seen hovering and fluttering over the field. The
champion felt so emboldened by this miracle, that he rushed upon his
antagonist, and substantiated the claim of the abbey by giving an
unmerciful cudgelling to his opponent. In like manner, Geoffroi du
Marne, bishop of Angers, ordered certain of his monks to determine
their right to tithes by a similar process.

The trials or ordeals by fire and water were not always conclusive;
for, in 1103, we find that one Luitprant, a Milanese priest, having
accused his archbishop of simony, offered to make good his charge by
walking through a fire; a feat which he performed to the amazement of
all. However, as the accused was a prelate of distinction, the Pope
absolved him, and very properly banished his impertinent accuser, who
indeed, if strict justice had been done, ought to have been burnt alive
as a wizard.

Our William of Normandy would not allow clerks to fight without due
permission from their diocesan: “_Si clericus duellum sine episcopi
licentiâ susceperit_,” _&c._

We have abundant authority to show that priests were very frequently
expert fencing-masters, and as chaplains of the army were especially
celebrated for their skill.

A singular trial by battle took place at Toledo, in 1085, to decide
whether the Roman or the Muzarabic ritual was to be observed in the
celebration of mass. Two champions were selected. Don Ruiz de Mastanza,
the Muzarabic knight, unhorsed his adversary and killed him. But the
Queen, who had a particular predilection for the trial by fire,
insisted that it should be resorted to: now, as it was contrary to
the laws of chivalry that the conquering knight should be sent to
the stake, a copy of each liturgy was thrown into the fire; when, as
it appears that both of them were consumed, the King decided that in
certain churches and chapels prayers should be put up according to the
Muzarabic ritual, and in others in conformity with the Roman.--The
Muzarabic chapel, a most curious monument, may to this day be seen in
the cathedral of Toledo.

Not only did the clergy order that these judicial battles should take
place, but many instances are on record where they were instituted by
several French parliaments. Under Philip de Valois, the parliament
decreed that two knights, Dubon and Vernon, should endeavour to cut
each other’s throats; the latter having asserted that the former
had bewitched his sovereign. The same learned body ordered a man of
the name of Carrouge to fight another man of the name of Legris, to
prove to the satisfaction of the public that he had committed an
act of violence towards Carrouge’s wife. Carrouge must have been
right, for Legris was killed; though, according to President Henault,
his innocence was afterwards fully substantiated by his accuser’s
confession upon his death-bed. In another instance, a knight, by name
Jean Picart, who was accused of an incestuous intercourse with his
daughter, was directed to fight her husband.

The frequency of these duels induced several monarchs to issue various
edicts. In 1041 was issued one called the _Saviour’s truce_, in which
duels were prohibited from Wednesdays to Mondays, these days having
been consecrated by our Saviour’s passion. In 1167, the King prohibited
all duels upon claims that did not exceed two-pence halfpenny. In 1256,
causes of adultery were to be brought to this issue; while, in 1324,
it was enjoined in cases of rape and poisoning. In 1145, the provost
of Bourges was instructed to call out all persons who did not obey his
orders.

In the reign of Henry II. the celebrated judicial duel (for such it
might be considered) between Jarnac and De La Chasteneraye took place
under very peculiar circumstances, carefully extracted from ancient
chronicles by Cockburn, who gives us the following interesting account,
most descriptive of the brutal manners of those chivalrous days.--“The
persons were the Lords of Chasteneraye and of Jarnac, who were both
neighbours and kinsmen. The first had said to Francis I. that the other
was maintained so plentifully by his mother-in-law, with whom he had
unlawful conversation. The King told this to Jarnac, for whom he had a
great affection. Upon which Jarnac said to the King, that Chasteneraye
had lied to him; but he not only maintaining what he had said, but
adding that Jarnac had divers times owned it to himself, Jarnac did
earnestly supplicate the King that the truth might be tried by combat;
which Francis I. first granted, but afterwards recalled.

“Upon his death, an earnest supplication was made to his successor,
Henry II. who, with the advice of his council, not only allowed, but
appointed it at St. Germain-en-Laye, on the 10th July 1547, when the
King, the whole court, the constable, admiral, and marshals of France
being present, the two parties were brought before the King, attended
by their several friends and trumpets, when each took the usual oaths.
After this they were led to their several pavilions, where they were
dressed for the combat, each having a friend and a confidant in the
other’s pavilion while this was doing. It is said that Jarnac was but
newly recovered of a sickness, and that he whispered to a friend, if
he did not trust to the goodness of his cause, he should fear the
acting of the part of a poltroon. When all the usual preamble of the
ceremonies was over, they were call out by the King’s trumpet, and by
his herald commanded to end their difference by combat. Chasteneraye
was observed to brave it with some insolence; but Jarnac carried it
modestly and humbly.

“Each attacked the other with great vigour; and, after several strokes
and trifling wounds on both sides, while Chasteneraye was making a pass
at Jarnac, he fetched a stroke which cut the ham of Chasteneraye’s
left leg, and presently redoubling his stroke, cut also the ham on the
right:[8] upon which Chasteneraye fell to the ground, and the other ran
up to him, telling him that now his life was at his discretion, yet he
would spare it _if he would restore him his honour, and acknowledge his
offence to God and the King_. Chasteneraye answering nothing, Jarnac
turned to the King, and, kneeling down, prayed _that now he might be so
happy as to be esteemed by him a man of honour; and, seeing his honour
was restored, he would make his majesty a present of the other’s life,
desiring his offence might be pardoned, and never more imputed to him
or his, being the inconsiderate act of youth_:[9] to which the King
made no answer. The former returned to his antagonist, and finding him
still upon the ground, lifted up his face and hands to Heaven, and
said, _Lord, I am not worthy; not to me, but unto thy name be thanks!_
having said this, he prayed Chasteneraye to confess his error: but,
instead of this, the latter raised himself on his knee, and, having a
sword and buckler in his hand, offered a pass at Jarnac, who told him
that if he offered to resist any more he would kill him, and the other
bid him do it; without, however, doing him any harm, Jarnac made a
second humble address to the King to accept of Chasteneraye’s life, to
which the King made no manner of reply.

“Whereupon Jarnac coming back to his antagonist, who was lying
stretched out upon the ground, his sword out of his hand, and his
dagger out of its sheath, he accosted him with the fair words of _old
friend and companion, entreated him to remember his Creator, and to
let them become friends again_. But he attempting to turn himself
without the signs of repentance and submission, Jarnac took away his
sword and dagger, and laid them at the King’s feet, with repeated
supplications to interpose for Chasteneraye’s life; which the King at
last _was advised to do_, and ordered some of the great officers to
go to him, and surgeons to take care of his life; but he would not
suffer his wounds to be dressed, being wearied of life because of his
disgrace, and so died in a little time through the loss of blood. It
being told the King that, according to custom, Jarnac should be carried
in triumph, Jarnac protested against it, saying that he affected no
ostentation or vain-glory, that he had been only desirous to have his
honour restored, and was contented with that; upon which the King
made him this compliment, that he _fought like Cæsar, and spoke like
Aristotle_. Yet the King’s inclinations were towards Chasteneraye.
The poor lady, Jarnac’s mother-in-law, whose honour was at stake too,
was all the while at St. Cloud, fasting and praying, and waiting
impatiently the issue of this purgation of her innocency.”

Chasteneraye was considered the first swordsman in France, and he
certainly did display in this transaction a singular mixture of vanity
and brutality. Brantôme, who was a nephew of Chasteneraye, endeavours
to show that there was foul play in this meeting, and that Jarnac wore
a _brassart_ without joint, by which means the buckler was held with
greater security; at the same time, he states that Chasteneraye’s right
arm was still weak from a wound he had received at Conys, in Piedmont.
Howbeit, this unfortunate young man, who was only in his twenty-eighth
year, was considered such an expert fencer and wrestler, that several
duels were fought when a report of this fatal duel had been spread
abroad, as his partisans would not admit the possibility of his
succumbing before any other combatant: his dexterity in wrestling was
so great, that Jarnac, to avoid the chances of a struggle, had insisted
that both parties should wear two daggers.

By way of retribution, the monarch expressed his royal pleasure that no
further duels should be allowed: indeed, this duel may be considered
the last judicial one that has been recorded in France; although
Charles IX. did authorize a combat between Albert de Luignes, who had
been accused of treasonable practices by Panier, a captain in the
guards. The parties fought in presence of the King and his court, in
the wood of Vincennes: Panier inflicted a severe wound on the head of
his opponent, who fell upon his knee; his seconds ran to his rescue;
but Luignes, recovering himself, gave him a mortal thrust through the
body. Nor was this the only instance where this weak and savage prince
had recourse to the swords of others to rid himself of an enemy; he
employed a famed bravo of the name of Maugerel to fight for him, who
was therefore called _the King’s Killer_; and it is well known that he
instructed Villequen to seek a quarrel with Lignerolles, the favourite
and confidant of the Duke d’Anjou, while they were out hunting, on
which occasion Lignerolles was killed.

While such was the practice in France, and other parts of the continent
of Europe, England was not exempt from similar scenes of cruelty and
superstition, and it was only during the reign of our Henry III. that
the trial by ordeal, or ordaly, was abolished, in 1219: for, although
several historians have doubted the fact, there is great reason to
believe, from the barbarous customs of the times, that Edward the
Confessor did actually compel Emma, the Queen Dowager, to the ordeal
of the heated ploughshares, on the charge of her having participated
in the murder of Alfred, besides having been guilty of a criminal
intercourse with the Bishop of Winchester; the prelate very wisely
refused to submit himself to a similar trial, by producing a letter
written by Pope Stephen VI. to the Archbishop of Mayence in 887, in
which he prohibited such practices.

The personal combat that is said to have taken place between Edmund
Ironside and Canute, near Gloucester, appears to be a fabulous
tradition, although the following account of it has been chronicled:
“Edmund had the advantage of stature and of strength, but Canute
possessed most address and activity. The conflict which took place in
the presence of both their armies, was long and doubtful, until the
Dane, beginning to lose ground, proposed an amicable settlement of
their differences, thus addressing his adversary: ‘Valiant prince, have
we not fought for a sufficient length of time to prove our courage?
Let us therefore show proofs of our moderation; and, since we have
equally shared the sun and the honour of this day, let us quit the
field of battle and share the kingdom.’” This is evidently a fiction
of romance, although there is some reason to believe that a challenge
might have passed between them. We may view with similar hesitation
of belief other no less chivalric relations of that important battle,
in which it is stated that Edwi having cut off the head of one Osmer,
whose countenance bore a strong resemblance to that of Edmund, had it
carried on a spear, calling out to the English that their sovereign was
no more; when Edmund, observing the consternation of his troops, took
off his helmet to prove the error under which they laboured. It appears
more probable that both these princes were compelled to enter into an
amicable treaty by their own nobility and their troops, when Canute
reserved to himself the northern division, and Edmund retained the
sovereignty of the southern provinces.

Doubting the truth of this hostile personal meeting, several writers,
amongst others Selden, maintain that duels were not known in England
until the Norman invasion, when it is recorded that William sent a
message by certain monks to Harold, requiring him either to resign the
kingdom, submit their cause to the arbitration of the Pope, or fight
him in single combat, to which Harold replied, that the God of battles
would soon be the arbiter of their differences.

It has been observed, that, had the practice of duelling on such
occasions been prevalent, the English chief could not, consistently
with the laws of honour as then understood, have refused the challenge.
It is, moreover, certain that at this period single combats were
common in Normandy and other provinces in France; and what renders it
probable that duelling, to ascertain rights maintained by the trial of
combat, was introduced on the Norman accession, was the entrance of a
champion in the ceremonial of the coronation, to this day preserved,
who, casting down the gauntlet of defiance, declares himself ready to
meet any one who dares contest the sovereign’s right to the throne, and
originally to the dukedom of Normandy.

Prior to the Norman conquest we have no record of any duel or trial by
battle, although the Anglo-Saxon laws were framed to prevent private
quarrels and acts of vindictive violence. The law of Alfred enjoined,
that if any one knows that his aggressor, after doing him an injury,
is determined to keep within his own house, or on his own lands, he
shall not fight him till he require compensation for the injury. If he
be strong enough to besiege him in his house, he may do it for seven
days; and, if the aggressor is willing during that time to surrender
himself and his arms, his adversary may detain him thirty days, but is
afterwards obliged to restore him safe to his kindred, and be contented
with the _compensation_; but, if he refuses to deliver up his arms,
it is then lawful to fight him. A slave might fight in his master’s
quarrel; a father might fight in his son’s, with any one except with
his master.

King Edmund, moreover, in the preamble to his laws, alluded to the
multiplicity of private feuds and battles, established various
enactments to check the evil; and regulated certain compensations
for the loss of life, without any distinction between murder and
manslaughter: every head had its price, from the king’s, that was
valued at 30,000 thrimsas, considered to be about 1,300_l._ to that of
a ceorle, or husbandman, 266; in this tariff, an archbishop’s head was
rated at a much higher value than a monarch’s.

The price all wounds and injuries was also regulated: a wound of an
inch long under the hair, one shilling; one of a like size in the face,
two shillings; the loss of an ear, thirty shillings; and, according to
the rare code of Ethelbert, any one who committed adultery with another
man’s wife was obliged to buy him a new one.

This commutation for crimes appears to have been universal in ancient
times. Blackstone informs us that in Ireland, by the _Brehon_ laws, a
murderer was obliged to give the surviving relatives of the slain a
recompense, called Eviach. In Homer we have the same practice during
the Trojan war; Nestor in his speech to Achilles thus addressing him:--

                        If a brother bleed,
    On just atonement we remit the deed:
    A sire the slaughter of his son forgives:
    The price of blood discharged, the murderer lives.

And again, in the 18th book of the Iliad, in the description of
Achilles’s shield:--

    There in the Forum swarms a numerous train,--
    The subject of debate, a townsman slain;
    One pleads the fine discharged, which one denied,
    And bade the public and the law decide.

The most curious part of this law of compensation was the weighing
the value of a witness:--a man whose life was worth one hundred and
twenty shillings counterbalanced six labourers, the life of each being
estimated at twenty shillings; his oath was therefore considered
equivalent to that of all the six.

These laws descended from the Germans, who, with the exception of the
Frisians, sought to check the natural propensity of the people to acts
of bloodthirsty revenge: thus we find, that if any man called another
_pare_, or accused him of having lost his shield in battle, he had
to pay a heavy fine; according to the laws of the Lombards, if a man
called another _arga_, or “good for nothing,” he had a right to demand
immediate satisfaction by arms.

These compensations and fines were called a _fredum_. For the proofs
of guilt, ordeals similar to those described as having existed in
France and other countries on the continent of Europe, were adopted
in England: one of them, which was abolished in France by Louis le
Debonnaire as impious, long prevailed amongst us,--the decision of the
_cross._

The compurgators were to be freemen, and relations or neighbours of
the accused, who upon their oath corroborated what he had asserted.
It appears that in some cases the concurrence of no less than three
hundred of these auxiliary witnesses was required. As men who are
capable of disregarding truth are not deterred by the solemnity of
an oath, this system of compurgation was found to be fraught with
such flagrant iniquity, that appeals to Heaven were considered more
effectual in ascertaining guilt or innocence.

The trials by hot iron and water were similar to those already
described. In addition to these _ordalies_ was the trial by the
consecrated bread and cheese, or _Corsned_, commonly appealed to by
the clergy when they were accused of any crime, and adopted by them,
since it was not attended with danger or inconvenience. This ordeal was
performed in the following manner:--A piece of barley-bread and a piece
of cheese were consecrated; and prayers were then put up, to supplicate
that God would send his angel Gabriel to stop the gullet of the priest,
so that he might not be able to swallow the sacred bread and cheese, if
he were guilty. This ceremony being concluded, the accused approached
the altar, and took up the testing food: if he swallowed freely, he was
declared innocent; if, on the contrary, it stuck in his throat, (which
we may presume was rarely the case,) he was pronounced guilty. Our
historians assert that Godwin Earl of Kent, in the reign of Edward the
Confessor, abjuring the death of the King’s brother, at last appealed
to the Corsned, “_per buccellam deglutiendam abjuravit_,” which stuck
in his throat and killed him.

Whether, in the settlement of feuds, pecuniary compensation was deemed
more satisfactory than the adversary’s blood, it is not an easy matter
to decide; but certain it is, that duels do not appear, until the
period alluded to, to have been as frequent in England as upon the
Continent. Good cheer, and good horses, seem to have been considered
as equivalent to cash: we find in our history a woman giving two
hundred fat hens to the sovereign for permission to spend one night in
prison with her husband, and bringing the monarch one hundreds fowls
on account; while another unlucky wight gave five of his best palfreys
to his sovereign lord the King to induce him to be silent regarding a
_faux pas_ of his wife. But, once established, it appears that trials
by battle prevailed in England for a longer period than in any other
country.

In 1096, William Count d’Eu, having been accused of a conspiracy
against William Rufus by Godefroi Baynard, engaged him in single
combat at Salisbury, in presence of the King and the whole court: the
unfortunate count, having been worsted, was forthwith ordered to be
emasculated, after both his eyes had been put out; his esquire at the
same time whipped, and then hanged. _Jussuque ideò Regis et concilii,
ejiciuntur illi oculi testiculique abscinduntur; dapifero suo Willielmo
de Aldori, filio amitæ ejus, sæviter flagellato et suspenso._

On Henry II.’s invasion of Wales, Henry de Essex, the hereditary
standard-bearer, having been accused of felony by Robert de Montfort,
his own relation, for dropping the standard on the field of battle and
taking to flight, exclaiming that the King was killed, the parties met
in single combat near Reading Abbey, where Essex was left for dead
upon the field. However, upon his body being borne to the abbey, the
monks perceived some traces of life; and, instead of his being hanged
according to custom, the brethren of the monastery recovered him; but,
as he was considered _morally_ dead, he spent the remainder of his days
in their holy cloisters.

From the time of William of Normandy, until that of Henry II, trial
by single combat was the only honourable mode of decision of battle
of right, until the alternative of the grand assizes, or the trial by
jury, was instituted by the latter sovereign.

When the tenant in a writ of right pleaded the general issue, and
offered to decide the cause by the body of a champion, a piece of
ground was selected sixty feet square, inclosed with lists, and on one
side a court was erected for the accommodation of the judges of the
court of Common Pleas, who attended there in their scarlet robes:
a bar was also prepared for the sergeants learned in law. When the
court sat, which was before sun-rising, proclamation was made for both
parties and their champions: the latter were introduced by two knights,
and were dressed in a coat of mail, with red sandals, bare-legged from
the knee downwards, bare-headed, and with arms bare to the elbows.
The weapons allowed them were batons, or staves of an ell long, and a
four-cornered leathern target, so that death very seldom ensued from
these civil combats. In the court military, however, they fought with
sword and lance.

When the champions thus armed arrived within the lists, or place of
combat, the champion of the tenant took his adversary by the hand,
and made oath that the tenement in dispute was not the right of the
demandant; the champion of the demandant of course took a contrary
oath. Another oath was then taken against sorcery and enchantment, in
the following form:

“Hear this, ye justices, that I have neither eaten, drunk, nor have
I upon me either bone, stone, or grass,--no enchantment, sorcery, or
witchcraft, whereby the law of God may be abased, or the law of the
devil exalted; so help me God and his saints!”

The battle then began, and the combatants were bound to fight till the
stars appeared in the evening; and, if the champion of the tenant
could defend himself till the stars appeared, the tenant prevailed in
his cause, and the vanquished was proclaimed a _Craven_: a degradation
of the highest importance; for when a champion had once admitted that
he was “_Craven_,” or one who craves for mercy, he ceased to be a
freeman--_liber et legalis homo_, and, having been proved forsworn, was
no longer eligible as a juryman, or in any manner entitled to belief or
respect.

In appeals of felony, the parties were obliged to fight in their proper
persons, unless the appellant were a woman, a priest, or an infant,--of
the age of sixty, lame, or blind; in either which cases, he or she
counter-pleaded, and threw themselves upon the country. Peers of the
realm could not be challenged to wage battle; nor the citizens of
London, it being specified in their charter that fighting was foreign
to their education and employment.

In regard to trial by battle in civil cases, the mystic appeal to the
judgment of God at this period was abandoned, and the institution of
chivalry gave to personal combats a character totally different.




CHAPTER V.

INSTITUTION OF CHIVALRY AND DUELS.


Mistaken views of religion no longer presided over bloodshed, and
priests found that they gradually lost the power of controlling the
unruly by their simple commands; it therefore became necessary that
their influence over those who could support their power by arms should
be of a more permanent and efficacious nature. Youth, upon whose
future courage and energies they could depend, were now enrolled in an
instituted body; and the assumption of arms, so soon as they were able
to wield them, became a solemn religious rite: until they could don
their armour, they were clad in white, like clerical neophytes; and,
as Scott truly observes, “the investiture of chivalry was brought to
resemble, as near as possible, the administration of the sacraments of
the church.”

Still this combination of religious and military zeal was not
considered sufficient to lead a man to risk his life blindly, and the
art and the all-powerful aid of woman were invoked.

Gallantry now presided over deeds of arms; which, to use the words
of Montesquieu, was not love, but its light, delicate, and perpetual
errors.

An ingenious writer, C. Moore, has described the origin of chivalric
laws and customs in the following passage:--“War, and the single
combat, were still the ruling passions of the soul; and whatever
improvement had militated against these favourite and ferocious ideas
would have been treated with the utmost contempt and indignation.
Some, however, whose minds were more enlightened, endeavoured to turn
this torrent of courage and military violence upon itself, and to the
correction of its own abuses. They formed themselves into martial
societies for the relief of injured innocence and distressed virtue;
for the redress of all oppressions and grievances; for the protection
of the weak and defenceless, particularly of the fair sex; for the
correction of abuses, and the general promotion of the public utility
and safety. But, in compliance with the strong prejudices of the times,
all was still to be determined by the sword, and by feats of personal
valour. Such was the introduction of chivalry and knight-errantry.”

For the honour of mankind, desirable indeed would it have been if
chivalry had been carried on upon such philanthropic grounds, however
barbarous might have been the means resorted to in the furtherance
of its ends: it is more probable that it was the result of growing
civilization, with its concomitant pride, pomp, and circumstance. When
love, being associated with religion, shed a halo over the knight’s
proud helm, the spirit of chivalry withdrew its advocates from the
trammels of judicial courts; and, although the hostile meetings of
contending knights, might not have been considered an ordeal to
obtain the judgment of God, the vanity arising from the renown of
personal prowess and superiority in war and in love rendered its
champions regardless of those fine and delicate feelings to which
their institution has been attributed. It is true that, the courtesy
and rising polish of society being added to religious zeal and blind
superstition, this combination tended to soften down the rude relics
of former ferocity, and to combine courage with humanity, introducing
as far as was practicable the courtesies of peace into scenes of
strife; and such we may well imagine may have been the results of such
an institution when woman became associated with all its bearings.
Education became more gentle, and, ere the _accolade_ of knighthood
was conferred, the candidate to the honour had passed through the
gradation of page and squire; first the follower of woman, a blind
adorer and slave, then the attendant on his leader in the chase or the
battle-field.

As civilization progressed, the rude customs of barbarous nations
must have gradually sunk into disrepute; and war, which had once been
a necessity in defence of person and property, now became only an
honourable profession.

While we admit, with Scott, that the tenets of chivalry were exalted
and enthusiastic, we cannot but consider that many acts of exaltation
and enthusiasm, among the most illustrious, were little short of mental
aberration, qualifying the heroic champion for the lunatic asylum,
rather than the courts of sovereigns; and I think that we may consider
many of our modern honourable institutions, which are traced to
chivalry, more as the effect of gradual intellectual improvement than
of the frolics of knight-errantry, however honourable they may have
appeared in theory. No one can pretend to deny that Don Quixote’s ideas
of honour were as correct as they were punctilious.

It is unfortunate that romance has so distorted human actions as to
shed lustre upon deeds which ought to have been veiled in everlasting
obscurity for the honour of mankind. It is owing to these fatal
illusions, that, to the present hour, the chimerical word _Honour_
leads the enthusiast or the slave of society’s prejudiced views to the
commission of criminal acts, and adapts its supposed laws and dictates
to the Procrustean standard of the “world’s” opinion.

Previous to the institution of chivalry, fighting became necessary
for individual protection; but knighthood rendered it a fashionable
accomplishment, and, as real injuries were not likely to occur every
day, artificial grievances were created, and tilts and tournaments
became the constant sports of the day. John, Duke of Bourbon, being
overcome, no doubt, with _ennui_, offered to go over to England with
sixteen knights, to avoid idleness, and further, to merit the good
graces of his mistress; and it is clear that this noble institution,
as it is called, greatly increased duelling instead of checking its
barbarity, while, by rendering it a polite accomplishment, it has
transmitted down to posterity a detestable heir-loom of barbarous times.

Not only were knights obliged to fight their own battles, but they
were bound to espouse the disputes of others, and volunteer fighting
whenever a “good quarrel” could be established.

It is to chivalry, introduced in the train of the Norman conquerors,
that England owed its first degradation. Chivalry deluged Italy in
blood, and rendered Spain a by-word of ferocity and madness. The
desperate pranks of the lunatic Crusaders were the deeds of monomaniacs
let loose by popery: Scott has truly said, that “the genius alike of
the age and of the order tended to render the zeal of the professors
of chivalry fierce, burning, and intolerant.” “If an infidel,” says a
great authority, “impugn the doctrine of the Christian faith before a
churchman, he should reply by argument; but a knight should render no
other reason to the infidel than six inches of his falchion thrust into
his accursed bowels.” The massacre of the Albigenses was one of the
proud results of this noble institution!

Debased by superstition and priestcraft, knighthood became instrumental
to every ambition, clerical or military: the hand of Heaven was seen
guiding every gleaming falchion; the saints were seen hovering over the
battle-field; and Froissart tells us that a black cur, which was always
barking when the infidels approached the Christian camp, was called by
the whole army _the dog of Our Lady_. If such were the public evils
that arose from chivalric institutions, how much more fearful was their
influence in society when we find Francis I, who certainly respected
the faith of engagements as conveniently as expediency could dictate,
laid down as a principle of honour, which prevails to this very day,
_That the lie was never to be put up with without satisfaction, but
by a base-born fellow_! For fear of any possible mistake, lies were
divided into thirty-two categories, with their corresponding degree
of satisfaction. In a succeeding chapter I shall endeavour to show
that most edicts promulgated to check the practice of duelling rather
increased it, and its gradual approach to desuetude can only be
attributed to the influence of reason: until this influence obtains,
all laws will be rendered nugatory by the established code of honour.

Nothing can be more absurd than the regret for the “_glorious days
of Chivalry!_” It is very true, that nothing could be more beautiful
and praiseworthy than the theory on which it was grounded; but a
legislature might just as wisely sit down and embody an Utopian code
of laws as to expect that a soldier will only draw his sword in the
defence of innocence,--it is too absurd a dream to be entertained even
in romance.

The exact origin of chivalry is a matter of doubt. By some historians
it is attributed to Henry I, King of Germany, in 936, called the
“_bird-catcher_,” from his partiality to field pursuits. Others have
traced it to Geoffrey de Preuilly, who died in 1066; but it appears
that he was only celebrated from his having collected and published
the laws of tournaments. History records a chivalric meeting that took
place as early as 858, near Strasburgh, between Charles the Bald, and
his brother, Louis of Germany. In France it was in general practice in
1136; and in Spain and England in 1140.

The rules and regulations in the management of these tournaments were
curious, and showed that the profession of arms was supposed to be
the proof of virtue as well as of courage. By these institutes it was
ordered--

I. Whosoever has done or said anything against the holy Christian faith
shall be excluded; and if any such shall presume to intrude himself, on
the account of his family and ancient nobility, he shall be beaten and
driven back.--_This first article was proposed by the Emperor Henry I.
himself._

II. If any, however nobly descended, have done or said anything against
the _Roman_ empire, or the sacred majesty of the Emperor, he shall not
be admitted, but publicly punished before the assembly.--_This article
was proposed by Conrad, Prince of Palestine._

III. If any have betrayed or deserted his lord and master, or have been
the occasion of any mutiny, disorder, or shameful flight in an army;
or have oppressed and unjustly killed any of his subjects and vassals,
or other innocent person, he shall be publicly punished.--_Duke of
Franconia._

IV. Whosoever has committed violence upon virgins or oppressed widows,
or has violated and defamed any woman by word or deed, when he appears
at the public tournament, shall be disgraced and punished.--_Duke of
Suevia._

V. Whosoever has been guilty of perjury, of forging hand or seal, or
lies under any other infamy, shall be held unworthy of the honour of
a tournament; and, if he enter, he shall not be suffered to go away
without some punishment.--_Duke of Bavaria._

VI. Whosoever has secretly or openly made away with his wife, or has
advised or assisted the killing of his superior, whose vassal he was,
let him be debarred, and let the law of tournament be executed upon him.

VII. Whoever have been guilty of sacrilege, by robbing churches or
detaining what belongs to them, or have wronged widows and children to
whom they were left guardians, shall not be admitted, but punished.

VIII. Whosoever keeps up an unreasonable feud with another, and will
not refer the difference to law or to a fair battle, but invades his
adversary’s land, burning and spoiling it, and carrying off his goods,
especially if he has destroyed corn, which has caused a dearth or a
famine,--if he appear at the tournament, let him be put to death.

IX. Whosoever has been the author of any new _gabel_ or imposition
in any province, city, or other dominion, without the consent of the
Emperor, by which means subjects are oppressed, and trade and commerce
with strangers are hindered and discouraged, let him be punished.

X. Whosoever is guilty of adultery, let him be punished.

XI. Whosoever doth not live suitably upon his lawful rents and income,
but debaseth his dignity by buying and selling, and using mean and
sordid arts to the damage of his neighbours and oppression of his
tenants, let him be beaten.

XII. Whosoever cannot prove his nobility for four generations at least
by both father and mother, shall not have the honour of being admitted
into the tournament.--_The two last articles were proposed by Philip,
the secretary of the Emperor._

These ordinances are a strong illustration of the habits and practices
of the nobles at that period, and present a vivid picture of the times,
when few indeed must have been the champions who could have qualified
for the lists.

Although, on the commencement of these exercises, blunt weapons were
used, fatal accidents were nevertheless very frequent; and it is said
of a Turkish ambassador, who was present at a tournament at the court
of Charles VII, that, on beholding several of the combatants killed and
wounded, he exclaimed, “_If they are in earnest, this is not enough;
but, if it is only in jest, we have had too much of it_.”

It was the frequency of these playful accidents that induced the clergy
to forbid tournaments; as appears in the canons of the council of
Rheims in 1148, by which Christian sepulture is refused to those who
fall on such occasions.

Howbeit, in 1274, our Edward I, on his passage by Chalons, being
challenged by the Count de Chalons, entered into a joust with the
French knights, which was so successful on the part of the English,
that their opponents, infuriated by their inferiority, made a serious
attack upon his retinue; and so much blood was idly shed on the
occasion, that the tournament was ever after called “_the petty battle
of Chalons_.”

In 1209 we find Philip Augustus obliging his sons, Louis and Philip,
to make a vow against entering into any such meetings. In 1385 we find
Francis I. in a tournament between Ardres and Guines; and Henry II. in
1559,--a fatal encounter in which he died from a wound in the eye-ball
received from Montgomery, captain of his guards. This accident took
place on the occasion of the marriage of the King’s eldest daughter
to Philip, King of Spain; in honour of which there were balls,
masquerades, and tilting. His majesty, fancying to enter the lists, had
a lance sent to Montgomery to encounter him: the captain at first very
wisely declined the honour; but, upon the King’s repeated requests,
was reluctantly obliged to comply with his orders. The tilt-yard was
in the Rue St. Antoine, where the captain purposely and politely broke
his lance against his royal master’s breast-plate: unfortunately one
of the splinters flew into his eye, and penetrated the ball; the King
lingered in great agony for a month and died, after having forbidden
all similar exercises.[10]

To form an idea of the ferocity that marked these deadly meetings,
and the absurdity of what were called points of honour, we have only
to recount the particulars of a combat that took place between two
Spanish captains at Ferrara. These two heroes had demanded a “field”
of the Viceroy, Monsieur de Nemours. The Duchess of Ferrara was, of
course, most anxious to be present at the contest; she being, according
to Brantôme, the most beautiful and accomplished lady in Christendom,
both as regarded corporeal and mental qualities, speaking moreover
_force belles langues_: therefore was it, (and very naturally,) that M.
de Nemours was deeply enamoured of her, and wore her colours, (rather
sombre, to be sure,) black and grey. The combatants being engaged, one
of the parties received a desperate wound, which occasioned such a loss
of blood that he sunk on the ground; when his antagonist, according
to the noble institutions of chivalry, rushed on him with the point
of his sword to his throat. The which beholding, the Duchess, who was
as kind as she was courteous, and as beauteous as she was virtuous,
with clasped hands implored M. de Nemours to separate the combatants;
to which he replied, rather uncourteously for a knight, “You cannot
doubt, madam, that there is nothing in the world that I would not do to
convince you of my thorough devotion to your will; but in this instance
I can do nothing, nor offend against the laws of battle, nor can I
honestly and against reason deprive the conqueror of a prize which he
has obtained at the hazard of his life.”

Howbeit, the second of the fallen man stepped forward, and addressing
the conqueror, whose name was Azevedo, declared that, knowing well the
character of his friend, St. Croix, who would rather die a thousand
deaths than admit that he was vanquished, surrendered himself for him,
and avowed himself conquered. Azevedo was perfectly satisfied with
this admission, and left the field in great pomp and glory, with a
flourish of trumpets; while St. Croix’s wounds were dressed, and he
was borne off the ground with his arms, which Azevedo had forgot to
carry away as trophies of the battle: but, upon his being reminded of
the circumstance, he forthwith sent a messenger to demand them. This
request, however, being refused, the case was referred to the decision
of M. de Nemours, who immediately ordered that the arms of St. Croix
should be carried to the conqueror; or that, if he declined to send
them, the dressings of his wounds should be taken off, and he should
be again carried to the field, and laid in the situation in which
he was placed when his second interfered for his life: however, the
second was wise enough to comply with the request. Brantôme observes,
that much might be argued on this matter to decide how far Azevedo
ought to have been satisfied with the second’s submission instead of
the principal’s; as the combat was to have been mortal, the swords and
daggers having been placed in the hands of the combatants by the Prior
of Messina.

A _beau combat_ is recorded of Monsieur de Bayard and another Spaniard,
Don Alonzo de Soto Mayor, who, having been taken prisoner by the
former, insulted him so grossly that he offered him the satisfaction
of a meeting on foot or on horseback. The day being appointed, Bayard
made his appearance, mounted upon a spirited charger and clad in
white, a symbol of humility. The choice of arms having fallen upon the
Spaniard, he preferred a combat on foot, on the plea that he was not
so good a horseman as his adversary, but in reality from his having
heard that the French knight was labouring under an intermittent fever,
which he had experienced for upwards of two years. Bayard, on account
of his indisposition, was strongly urged by his second, Monsieur de
la Palisse, and his friends, to insist upon a mounted combat. To
this he objected, as he did not wish that his opponent should accuse
him of having thrown any difficulties in the way of a fair meeting.
The ground was taken, and marked with several loose stones. Bayard,
having received his arms, prostrated himself on the ground to put up a
fervent prayer, while every one around him joined in the orison upon
their knees; then, rising, he made the sign of the cross, and attacked
his adversary as cheerfully as if he was stepping out in a ball-room
to commence a dance. The Spaniard advanced, and calmly asked him,
“_Señor Bayardo, que me quereys?_” To which he replied, “To defend my
honour;” and forthwith attacked him. The struggle was fiercely kept
up, and great skill displayed on both sides; until Bayard, by a feint,
struck him such a blow in the throat, that, despite his gorget, the
weapon penetrated four fingers deep. The wounded Spaniard grasped his
adversary, and, struggling with him, they both rolled on the ground;
when Bayard, drawing his dagger and thrusting its point in the nostrils
of the Spaniard, exclaimed, “Señor Alonzo, surrender--or you are a
dead man!” a speech which appeared quite useless, as Don Diego de
Guignonnes, his second, exclaimed, “_Señor Bayardo, es muerto; vincido
haveys!_” Bayard, says the chronicler, would have given a hundred
thousand crowns to have spared his life; but, as matters turned out, he
fell upon his knees, kissed the ground three times, and then dragged
his dead enemy out of the camp, saying to the deceased’s second, “Señor
Don Diego, have I done enough?” to which the other piteously replied,
“Too much, Señor, for the honour of Spain!” when Bayard very generously
made him a present of the corpse, although he had a right to do
whatever he thought proper with it; an act highly praised by Brantôme,
who says it is difficult to say which act did him most honour,--the not
having ignominiously dragged the body like the carcase of a dog by a
leg or an arm out of the field, or having condescended to fight while
labouring under an ague; as an ague in those days (sturdy dogs!) was
not considered a sufficient reason to decline a combat.

As fighting became a matter of fashion, and therefore of necessity, it
was impossible to be too punctilious in taking offence. Any subject,
however trivial, was considered sufficient to warrant a combat,
and required blood to wipe off a supposed stain upon a factitious
honour; and, when blood could not be obtained for this vital purpose
by fair means, assassination was not deemed beneath the dignity of
the offended, or incompatible with honour’s laws. Thus we find a
Franche-Comté nobleman running another through the body in the very
porch of a church, while he was presenting him some holy water; and two
other high-born worthies fighting it out before the altar, to decide
who had the best right to a seat of precedence, or the first use of the
censer.

Tilts and tournaments were simply _simulacra_ of actual combats,
training youth to deeds of arms under the flattering auspices of the
fair sex, that they might the more diligently and expertly commit
murder whenever it suited ambition, fanaticism, or love.

What the ladies expected from their champions cannot be better
expressed than in the injunction of the Dame des Belles Cousines to
little Jean de Saintré, a subject which Scott has admirably translated
in the following quaint and appropriate language:--

“The Dame des Belles Cousines, having cast her eyes upon the little
Jean de Saintré, then a page of honour at court, demanded of him
the name of his mistress and his love, on whom his affections were
fixed. The poor boy, thus pressed, replied that the first object of
his love was the lady his mother, and the next his sister Jacqueline.
‘Jouvencel,’ replied the inquisitive dame, who had her own reasons for
not being contented with this simple answer, ‘we do not talk of the
affection due to your mother and sister; I desire to know whom you love
_par amours_.’

“‘In faith, madam,’ said the poor page, to whom the mysteries of
chivalry, as well as of love, were yet unknown, ‘I love no one _par
amours_.’

“‘Ah, false gentleman, and traitor to the laws of chivalry!’ returned
the lady; ‘dare you say that you love no lady? Well may we perceive
your falsehood and craven spirit by such an avowal. Whence were derived
the great valour and the high achievements of Lancelot, of Gawain, of
Tristram, of Giron the Courteous, and of other heroes of the round
table?--whence those of Panthus, and of so many other valiant knights
and squires of this realm, whose names I could enumerate had I
time?--whence the exaltation of many whom I myself have known to rise
to high dignity and renown?--except from their animating desire to
maintain themselves in the grace and favours of their ladies, without
which mainspring to exertion and valour they must have remained unknown
and insignificant. And do you, coward page, now dare to aver that you
have no lady, and desire to have none? Hence, false heart that thou
art!’

“To avoid these bitter reproaches, the simple page named as his lady
and love _par amours_ Matheline De Coucy, a child of ten years old.
The answer of the Dame des Belles Cousines, after she had indulged in
the mirth which his answers prompted, instructed him how to place his
affections more advantageously.

“‘Matheline,’ said the lady, ‘is indeed a pretty girl, and of high
rank, and better lineage than appertains to you. But what good, what
profit, what honour, what advantage, what comfort, what aid, what
counsel for advancing you in the ranks of chivalry, can you derive from
such a choice? Sir, you ought to choose a lady of high and noble blood,
who has the talent and means to counsel and aid you at your need; and
her you ought to serve so truly, and love so loyally, that she must
be compelled to acknowledge the true and honourable affection which
you bear to her. For, believe me, there is no lady, however cruel and
haughty, but through length of faithful service will be brought to
acknowledge and reward loyal affection with some portion of _pity_,
_compassion_, or _mercy_. In this manner you will attain the praise of
a worthy knight; and, till you follow such a course, I would not give
an apple for you or your achievements.’”

The lady then proceeds to lecture the acolyte of chivalry at
considerable length on the seven mortal sins, and the way in which the
true amorous knight may eschew commission of them. Still, however,
the saving grace inculcated in her sermon is fidelity and secrecy in
the service of the mistress whom he should love _par amours_. She
proves, by the aid of quotations from the Scriptures, the fathers of
the church, and the ancient philosophers, that the true and faithful
lover can never fall into the crimes of pride, anger, envy, sloth,
or gluttony. From each of these his true faith is held to warrant
and defend him. Nay, so pure was the nature of the flame which she
recommended, that she maintained it to be inconsistent even with the
seventh sin of chambering and wantonness, to which it might seem too
nearly allied. The least dishonest thought or action was, according to
her doctrine, sufficient to forfeit the chivalrous lover the favours
of his lady. It seems, however, that the greatest part of her charge
concerning incontinence is levelled against such as haunted the
receptacles of open vice; and that she reserved an exception (of which
in the course of the history she made a most liberal use) in favour
of the intercourse which, in all law, honour, and secrecy, might take
place when the favoured and faithful knight had obtained, by long
service, the boon of _mercy_ from the lady whom he loved.

The last encouragement which the Dame des Belles Cousines held out to
Saintré in order to excite his ambition, and induce him to fix his
passion upon a lady of elevated birth, rank, and sentiment, is also
worthy of being quoted; since it shows that it was the prerogative of
chivalry to abrogate the distinctions of rank, and elevate the hopes of
the knight, whose sole patrimony was his arms and his valour, to the
high-born and princely dame before whom he carved as a sewer.

“‘How is it possible for me,’ replied poor little Saintré, after
having heard out the unmercifully long lecture of the Dame des Belles
Cousines, ‘to find a lady, such as you describe, who will accept of my
service, and requite the affection of such a one as I am?’

“‘And why should you not find her?’ answered the lady preceptress. ‘Are
you not gently born? Are you not a fair and proper youth? Have you not
eyes to look on her--ears to hear her--a tongue to plead your cause to
her--hands to serve her--feet to move at her bidding--body and heart
to accomplish loyally her commands?--and, having all these, can you
doubt to adventure yourself in the service of any lady whatsoever?’”

In these extracts is painted the very spirit of chivalry, and the
manners of an age which so many modern ladies seem to regret most
deeply.

As I have already stated, warlike youth had to a certain degree
emancipated themselves from the power of the priesthood, although they
were always prepared and willing to rush into battle at their commands;
but to the honour of the clergy it must be confessed, that although
many individuals of that body might have enjoyed fighting as much as
any testy layman, yet they did exert themselves to temper and modify
as much as lay in their power the ferocity of the times. Whether in
these efforts they were chiefly influenced by motives of humanity, or
by opposition to the rivalry of secular power, it is no easy matter to
decide.

The secular power of the nobles was very great, and to a certain
degree independent of that of the sovereign. President Henault
informs us, that during the first, and a considerable period of
the second race, dukes and counts, in their quality of provincial
governors, administered all regal functions within their jurisdiction,
bestowed all military preferments, and judged by _sovereign judgment_
all appeals of the _centenaries_, or judges nominated by the
monarch,--still, in the name of the King. As at that period there
could exist no other justice but a royal one, these same dukes and
counts, having from the weakness of the government erected their
offices into hereditary rights and patrimonies, continued to preserve
their authority; and all traces of regal power disappeared in the
provinces, with the exception of the government of Hugues Capet as duke
and count, and, when he ascended the throne, his _droit seigneural_ was
added to his _royal authority_.

Before such arbitrary tribunals, when the judges were themselves unruly
soldiers, utterly ignorant of any kind of jurisprudence, and knowing no
other method of deciding a difference than by an appeal to force, the
most expeditious method of deciding a quarrel was to make the litigants
fight it out.

The only check upon the power of feudality was the influence of the
clergy, then divided into _secular_ and _regular_. The secular clerks
officiated in the several sees and parishes, while the regular lived
under monastic institutions and discipline.

_Ecclesia abhorret sanguine_ was an old maxim of the church; and, when
they condemned thousands to the torture or to death, they considered
that they conformed themselves to the letter of this humane precept
while handing their victims over to the _secular arm_ to put their
sentence into execution. Moreover, as the jurisprudence of the
sword interfered with that of the altar, many were the prelates who
powerfully declaimed against duelling and its excesses. Such were
Gregory of Tours, Avitus, and Agobard. Various councils fulminated
their anathemas on the barbarous practice; that of Valence in 855, and
of Limoges in 994, and Trent so late as 1563: while several pontiffs,
amongst whom we find Nicholas I, Alexander III, Celestin III, and
Julius II, excommunicated all sovereigns who permitted duels to take
place within their realms; and we see Charles IX. protesting against
this papal interference, when, in his edict of 1564, he reserved to
himself the power of authorizing duels when he thought it meet.

It is to this interference of the clergy that Europe was indebted for
that pacific act called the _Truce of God_, to which I have already
referred. This ordonnance, called _Treuga Dei_, was promulgated by a
council at Toulujes in Roussillon, in the year 1041, when it gradually
spread over Europe. In this celebrated act it was specified that upon
all festivals, and from Wednesday evening until Monday morning in each
week, no disputes should lead to any issue. This regulation was most
wise, as it gave three entire days in each week to offended persons to
reflect calmly on the nature of their supposed injury, or the benefits
that might result from vindictive proceedings.

It appears, however, that the nobles paid but little attention to the
_Treuga Dei_, or any other truce that tended to check their unruly
passions. A greater diversion from their private feuds soon drew their
attention in another direction; preparing the great moral revolution
that marked the eleventh and the twelfth centuries: I of course allude
to the Crusades, when, in the words of Anna Comnena, the whole of
Europe seemed to have been torn up from its foundations, and ready to
precipitate itself upon Asia. Six millions of enthusiasts, according
to contemporary writers, rushed forward in this holy war; and in 1096,
under the command of Godefroy de Bouillon, an army of about a hundred
thousand, chiefly composed of men sufficiently distinguished in their
several countries by birth and education to cut each other’s throats
with propriety, were patriotic enough to rid their country of their
presence, and were soon after followed to Palestine by another draft of
pugnacious nobility and gentry from various parts of Europe.

Nor can we be surprised at this ardour, when we consider all the
advantages held out to the crusaders both in this world and in the
next. They were exempted from all prosecution for debt, and from the
payment of all interest thereon. They were freed from taxation; they
were taken under the immediate protection of St. Peter; and all who
vexed, perplexed, or impeded them in word, deed, or thought, were
irrevocably damned. They obtained a plenary remission of all sins past
and present, with immunity for future ones; and the gates of heaven
were thrown open to them without any other claims on salvation than
their having engaged in this expedition.

The crusades moreover produced a great revolution in property; many of
these adventurers selling their lands and inheritances at the lowest
prices to equip themselves, while many of the nobles, perishing in the
expedition, left their fiefs without heirs to increase the revenue and
power of the crown.

Thus was this glorious enterprise a fatal blow to feudality; and,
when a few of these adventurers returned to their homes, they were so
reduced by misery and corrected by misfortunes, that their unfortunate
vassals entertained some dawning hopes of better days. These wanderers
had travelled over more civilized parts, and brought back some faint
notions of justice, humanity, and improvement.

Another circumstance in the twelfth century not a little added to the
progress of the human mind in search of amelioration. In 1137, when
the imperial troops were plundering and sacking the town of Amalfi, a
band of ruffians had found in some ruins an old book, the _illuminated_
pictures of which attracted their notice. The Emperor claimed this
curiosity as his prize, having discovered that it was no less than a
copy of the Pandects of Justinian; the which he presented as a valuable
trophy to the city of Pisa, whence its contents were called “_Pandectæ
Pisanæ_,” till, being borne away in turn by the Florentines, it was
afterwards named “_Pandectæ Florentinæ_.”

This accidental discovery produced a new era in Europe: it showed the
barbarians who wielded the brute power of force, that there did exist
other arguments than the sword’s point or the spear-head; and murder,
which had usurped the seat of justice for upwards of six centuries, was
obliged to yield to the influence of reason and interest. Schools of
civil law were now opened, that superseded the exercises of the lists;
and the study of Roman law succeeded the Lombardian code, despite the
endeavour of the clergy to protect their canonical institutions by
fulminating anathemas issued from the Vatican. The clergy of England,
who, like their predecessors the Druids, had engrossed every branch of
learning, lost no time in obtaining a proficiency in all the ancient
oral maxims and customs, called common law, which had been handed down
from former ages. Hence William of Malmsbury, soon after the Conquest
asserted, _Nullus clericus nisi causidicus_. The judges were created
out of the sacred order, and all the inferior offices filled up by the
lower clergy, their successors to this day being called _Clerks_.

Thus we see two events, the crusades and the introduction of civil
law, checking the disastrous excesses of duelling and arbitrating all
differences by the sword. The future was pregnant with two events of
still greater importance towards humanizing Society,--the fall of the
Eastern empire, and the discovery of the art of printing: by the one,
civilization was thrown back on the West; and by the other gift of
Providence man began to learn to think for himself.

We thus perceive the progress of duelling, and its less frequent
occurrence, depending in a great measure upon the state of society and
the nature of government: by following this progress chronologically
in the history of various countries, we shall attain much information,
both as regards the prevalence of this barbarous custom, and the
success of different governments in their endeavours to suppress, or,
at least, restrain its excesses. When, after reading the details of
many of these duels, (some of them of perhaps a tedious nature, but all
tending to illustrate the manners of the age,) we glance on the civil
and religious condition of the people amongst whom they took place,
the deductions from these observations may be found to be of more
importance than may at first sight appear.




CHAPTER VI.

DUELLING IN FRANCE.


France may be considered the classic ground of duelling, the field of
single combat _par excellence_; whence, from the duchy of Normandy, as
we have already seen, it was introduced into the British isles.

If we are indebted to our neighbours for this practice, it is also
to them that we owe the various codes and regulations drawn out to
equalize, as far as possible, the chances of victory, and to prevent
any unfair advantages being obtained to the prejudice of the opposite
party. Of these various documents, possibly the rules given by Brantôme
may be considered the most curious.

In the first instance, he says:--“On no account whatever let an infidel
be brought out as a second or a witness: it is not proper that an
unbeliever should witness the shedding of Christian blood, which would
delight him; and it is moreover abominable that such a wretch should be
allowed such an honourable pastime.

“The combatants must be carefully examined and felt, to ascertain that
they have no particular drugs, witchcraft, or charms about them. It is
allowed to wear on such occasions some relics of Our Lady of Loretto,
and other holy objects; yet it is not clearly decided what is to be
done when both parties have not these relics, as no advantage should be
allowed to one combatant more than to another.

“It is idle to dwell upon courtesies: the man who steps into the field
must have made up his mind to conquer or die, but, above all things,
never to surrender; for the conqueror may treat the vanquished as he
thinks proper,--drag him round the ground, hang him, burn him, keep
him a prisoner, in short, do with him whatever he pleases. The Danes
and Lombards, in this, imitated Achilles, who, after his combat with
Hector, dragged him three times round the walls at the tail of his
triumphant car.

“Every gallant knight must maintain the honour of ladies, whether they
may have forfeited it or not,--if it can be said that a _gentille dame_
can have forfeited her honour by kindness to her servant and her lover.
A soldier may fight his captain, provided he has been two years upon
actual service, and he quits his company.

“If a father accuses a son of any crime that may tend to dishonour
him, the son may demand satisfaction of his father; since he has done
him more injury by dishonouring him, than he had bestowed advantage by
giving him life.”

Notwithstanding Brantôme’s authority, the right of a soldier to call
out his captain has been a questionable point; and La Béraudière,
and Basnage, and Alciat have discussed the point very minutely. The
last author came to the conclusion that such a meeting could only
be tolerated when both parties were off duty,--_post functionem
secus_. The same learned writer maintains that you can only refuse to
fight a bastard; and he therefore strongly recommends all noblemen
to legitimatize their sons, that they may be rendered worthy of the
honour of knighthood and of duelling: and he further declares, that all
challenges from a _roturier_, a mere citizen, or a man in business,
must be considered as null and void.

There is a passage in Brantôme which singularly applies to modern
France, as regards the multiplicity of decorations of honour and their
various button-hole badges; distinctions, which, from the facility with
which they are obtained, he does not consider as qualifying the wearer
to fight a gentleman. “If these people were attended to,” he says, “one
could no longer fight a proper duel: such numbers of them pullulate in
every direction, that we see nothing but knights of St. Michael and of
the Saint Esprit; to such an extent were these orders abused during
our civil wars, to win over and retain followers being no longer the
meed of valour or of merit.”

To tear off a decoration, or even to touch it, was considered an
unpardonable insult; and we have seen in more modern times an example
of the respect to which such attributes of distinction are entitled.
In August 1833, Colonel Gallois, an officer in the service of Poland,
felt himself offended by an article in the _Figaro_, a paper conducted
by Nestor Roqueplan; and, having met him, tore off his riband of the
Legion of Honour. The parties met in the wood of Meudon, when Roqueplan
received three wounds, and Gallois one in the knee: the two seconds of
Gallois at the same time had thrown off their coats, and challenged the
seconds of Roqueplan, who very wisely declined any participation in the
fight; when one of Gallois’s party insisted upon satisfaction from Mr.
Leon Pillet, a friend of Roqueplan, with whom he was on intimate terms,
and, to urge his suit, requested that he might be allowed to take the
badge of the Legion off his coat, to overcome his apparent repugnance;
adding, that he entertained too much friendship and esteem towards him
to offend him in any other manner. There was no refusing so polite a
request.

The colours of a lady, in a knot of ribands worn by her admirer, and
called an _emprise_, were equally sacred; and, when a _brave_ of those
chivalric days was anxious for a combat, he exerted himself to find
some daring desperado who would put his finger on the badge of love.
In Ireland to this day, in many of its wild districts, a pugnacious
ruffian will drag his jacket after him, and fight _unto death_ any
_spalpeen_ who ventures to touch it.

Choice of arms was a matter of great importance in these meetings,
indeed of a vital nature; since, if a weapon was broken in the hands
of one of the parties, he was considered vanquished, and at the
discretion of his conqueror,--such an accident being looked upon as a
decision of Providence: a miss-fire at the present day is considered a
shot, although on a less religious principle. Pistols were introduced
in the reign of Henry II; and, being considered as affording a more
equal chance to both combatants, this arm has been generally selected
in modern duels, more especially in England. On the Continent the
small-sword and the sabre were more frequently resorted to; and we
shall shortly see the regulations regarding their employment, which in
France form a regular code.

Some of the ancient modes of fighting were most singular and whimsical.
Brantôme relates a story of two Corsicans who had fixed short
sharp-pointed daggers in the front of their helmets, being covered
with a suit of mail called a “jacque” over their shirts, although
the weather was remarkably cold; such an arrangement having been
proposed by the offended, who had the right to select and name the
mode of combat, and who was fearful of his antagonist’s renown for his
power and dexterity in wrestling. Both were armed with swords, and
they fought for some time with such equality of skill that neither
was wounded; at length they rushed upon each other, and wrestling
commenced. It was during this struggle that the daggers came into play,
each butting in his antagonist’s face, and neck, and arms, until blood
was streaming in every direction, and in such profusion that they were
separated: one of them only lived a month; in consequence of which the
survivor was well nigh dying of _tristesse_ and _ennui_, as they had
become friends, and expected that they both should have died.[11]

Notwithstanding this valorous disposition, it appears that the choice
of arms and appointments was frequently made a subterfuge to gain time,
or cause much trouble and expense; and Brantôme relates, that, in the
fatal duel between Jarnac and Chasteneraye, the former proposed no
less than thirty different weapons to be used both on horseback and on
foot, and had also specified various horses, Spanish, Turkish, Barbs,
with different kinds of saddles: in consequence of which our chronicler
adds, that if his uncle had not been a man of some independence, and
moreover assisted by his royal master, he could not have maintained the
challenge; and he very truly observed, when receiving it, “This man
wants to fight both my valour and my purse.”

This privilege of the offended to choose their arms and regulate the
nature of the combat, however capriciously, afforded considerable
advantages; since the art of fencing taught many secret tricks, the
knowledge of which gave great reputation to professors. So secret,
indeed, were these instructions, that not only was the pupil solemnly
sworn never to reveal the mysterious practice, but instructions were
given in private, after having examined every part of the room, the
furniture, and the very walls, to ascertain that no third person could
have been concealed to witness the deadly lesson. To this day in France
such cuts and thrusts are called _coups de maître_, and by the lower
classes _coups de malins_.

A curious case is recorded of a knight, who, having been taught
invariably to strike the region of the heart, insisted upon fighting in
a suit of armour, with an opening in each cuirass of the breadth of the
hand over the heart: the result, of course, was immediately fatal to
his antagonist.

The “cunning” of armourers was also frequently resorted to, to obtain
unfair advantages. A skilful workman in Milan had carried his mode of
tempering steel to such a point of perfection, that the solidity of
the sword and dagger depended entirely on the manner in which they
were handled: in the hands of the inexperienced the weapons flew into
shivers; whereas in the grasp of a skilful combatant they were as
trusty as the most approved Toledan blade.

Nor were these valiant knights very particular as to odds. It is
related of two French gentlemen, La Villatte and the Baron de
Salligny, who fought a duel with two Gascons of the name of Malecolom
and Esparezat, that Malecolom having speedily killed his antagonist
Salligny, and perceiving that his companion Esparezat was a long
time despatching Villatte, went to his assistance. When Villatte,
thus unfairly pressed by two antagonists, remonstrated against the
treachery, Malecolom very coolly replied, “I have killed my adversary,
and, if you kill yours, there may be a chance that you may also kill
me; therefore here goes!”

More punctilious, however, were some of these heroes in points of
honour. We read in Brantôme of two Piedmontese officers, intimate
friends, who having gone out to fight, one of the parties received
a wound that was supposed to be mortal; when his opponent, instead
of despatching him, assisted him off the ground, to conduct him to
a surgeon. “Ah!” exclaimed the wounded man, “do not be generous by
halves!--let it not be said that I fell without inflicting a wound: so,
pray wear your arm in a scarf, and say that I hit you ere I succumbed.”
His friend generously acceded to the proposal; and, having smeared a
bandage in his blood, he wrapped it round his arm, publishing abroad
that he had been wounded ere his brave companion received his mortal
thrust. The wound however not proving fatal, an everlasting friendship,
cemented by gratitude, ever after prevailed between them.

Many instances of these singular rencontres and fatal caprices in
deeds of arms will be recorded in the course of this history; all of
which may be referred to the character of the times, and the existing
government’s weakness or tyrannical influence.

In relating the progress of duelling in France during the fifteenth
and the sixteenth centuries, I cannot better characterize the state
of the country than by quoting a late intelligent writer, M. de
Campigneulles:--

“I find between the fifteenth and the sixteenth centuries the same
difference that is observable between the seventeenth and the
eighteenth; neither of these periods being in my opinion in favour of
any progress. Louis XI. will be found preferable to Charles IX; and
Charles VIII. will be placed in a more distinguished rank than Henry
II. Francis I. will not make us forget Louis XII; and the glorious
exploits of the French under Charles VII. will console us for a long
time for the miseries of the civil wars under Henry III. I do not
think it necessary, to justify the second proposition, to draw a
parallel between the reigns of Henry IV. and Louis XIV. on one side,
with the regency and reign of Louis XV. on the other. What is not less
remarkable is, that the first period of a century has frequently been
more worthy of estimation than the second; showing that there is an
action and a reaction in the progress of civilization, and that the
torrent of ages seems to be subject to the same laws that regulate the
waters of the deep.

“Under Charles VII. the aristocracy was too deeply engaged in their
national contest with England to occupy themselves with personal
feuds; the aristocracy, in the enormous sacrifices which this struggle
required, was drained both of men and money. The people gained
nothing,--the royal authority alone reaped any advantage that might
have resulted from this state of affairs; for from this reign we may
date the establishment of standing armies and taxations,--the latter
being imposed illegally, and without the sanction of the states-general.

“The policy of Louis XI.’s government turned to a profitable account
the state of poverty and depression to which the aristocracy had been
reduced. The nobility of France was deteriorated by this cruel prince,
who founded his despotic power upon executions; and the blood which
had been spilled in the field of battle to defend the country, was now
wantonly shed upon the scaffold. There was none left to irrigate a
field of private battle.

“These combined circumstances had struck a fatal blow to duelling; and
the prejudices which had justified the practice, and which at the same
time had advocated the cause of aristocracy, became every day more
weak, attesting the homogeneity of their character.

“France has always been considered as giving the _ton_ to Europe; but
between us and other countries the exchange has not always been to our
advantage, and, for what we may have given to our neighbours of any
value, we have received in return sad equivalents. It is to Germany
that we were first indebted for judicial combats. It was in Italy
that we sought the practice of duelling, which succeeded them; and
while this moral contagion was widely spread during the expeditions of
Charles VII, Louis XII, and Francis I, a sad physical contamination was
transmitted to us through Spain. The practice of duelling had scarcely
crossed the Alps, when it gradually disappeared amongst the Italians;
and the stiletto became a substitute for the sword.

“It is to the reign of Charles VIII. that we must refer these Italian
campaigns, so fatal to our arms and our manners. The ardour of our
youth inspired this monarch with a desire of foreign expeditions.
In 1494 he overran the kingdom of Naples, losing his conquests as
rapidly as he had obtained them. Duelling was then in great vogue over
Italy,--a tradition of the Goths and Lombards, modified, or rather
exaggerated, by the chivalric fancies of the Spaniards.

“A wish to enforce the rights of Valentine on the duchy of Milan
induced Louis XII. to undertake fresh Italian expeditions, although he
had strenuously opposed similar projects on the part of his predecessor
during his latter days. It was during the reign of this monarch, from
1499 to 1515, that incessant duels thinned the ranks of his armies.
They were sanctioned by the Duke de Nemours their leader, and the
illustrious Bayard himself was obliged to yield to the torrent of
fashion.

“The Italian wars continued to be waged under Francis I. He himself,
as we have seen, sent a rodomontade challenge to the Emperor Charles;
and although neither of the parties entertained a serious intention
of putting their boasted threats into execution, yet he had shown
an example which was greedily followed by the most distinguished
personages of the court.”

It was during his reign that pistols were introduced, and became
the fit auxiliaries of the dagger amongst the bandits that infested
the realm; and thus does Abbé Villy describe the condition of the
country--“Our intercourse with the Italians, amongst whom our armies
had lived for more than fifty years, had altered our national character
in many respects. Men became less delicate in their means of glutting
revenge. Assassinations and premeditated murders became each day
more frequent. Already it was not considered sufficient to await an
enemy upon the road, or attack him in his dwelling. It was at the
corner of a street or in an open square, and in the presence of their
fellow-citizens, that public functionaries fell under an assassin’s
blow. Relays of horses were ready to enable the criminal to escape, and
the crime to remain unpunished.”

“Charles IX. was the last French monarch who allowed a duel, and was
present when it took place. He was also the first to prohibit the
practice; and his ordonnance of 1566 in this respect was admirable,
wherein he commanded that all differences should be submitted to the
decision of the constables and marshals of France, more especially in
such cases where the lie had been given.

“Henry III. was the last who appeared in a tournament, with his brother
Charles IX; and he also issued severe orders concerning murderers and
assassins, who, however, from his want of energy, applied with more
audacity and impunity than at any other period, converting the country
into a cut-throat: and if this prince ended by discouraging duels, it
was only when from his affections towards his unworthy favourites he
felt their loss, and, without possessing sufficient energy to avenge
them, their tragic end only gave rise to fresh scandal in the indecency
of his grief. D’Audiguier, the duellist, called him the best prince in
the world; and Brantôme says that he was so good, that he never could
punish rigorously, he so loved his nobility.

“The fever of duelling was not mitigated during the long period of our
religious wars. Civil wars differ widely from those that are carried
on to defend national honour against a foreign enemy. When these break
forth, personal feuds are appeased, and one interest predominates;
our blood is reserved for our country, and duels will cease: but
when in an impious conflict citizens are armed against each other,
every evil passion is unbridled; no law, no check, can restrain them;
everything becomes a weapon; men no longer fight, but kill; and what
the sword may have spared is doomed to the scaffold. Thus did murders
assume every possible form during the convulsions of the sixteenth
century; every instrument of destruction was brought to bear; the
dagger rivalled the sword; and, as we already were indebted to Italy
for duelling, an Italian Queen, one of the Medici, brought in another
gift--assassination.”




CHAPTER VII.

DUELS IN FRANCE DURING THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.


As we have seen in the preceding chapter, it was during the reign of
Francis I. that duels became multiplied, both in the French dominions,
and in their armies employed upon foreign service. The influence of the
monarch upon his court, and of that court upon the nation, has ever
been all-powerful in that country, until the people knew that they were
something. We have seen the potato, after being considered by the whole
country as only food fit for swine, introduced into fashionable, and
thence into general consumption, after Louis XIV. had appeared in court
with a nosegay of its flowers at his button-hole.

The gasconading challenge sent by Francis to Charles, although it must
have been fully appreciated by reasoning people, acted with electric
enthusiasm on the nation; and if a king thought it incumbent on his
honour to seek satisfaction for having been accused of asserting a
falsehood, how much more urgent did it become for subjects to draw
their swords upon the slightest contradiction that could give umbrage
to the phantom of chivalric honour? Moreover, it had been currently
reported, and of course confirmed by the courtiers, that this monarch,
having considered himself offended by the Count of Saxony, then on a
visit at his court, had taken him aside in a hunting excursion, without
any witness being present to compromise his future safety, and proposed
a single combat, which the Count very wisely declined.

Francis, although he not only tolerated, but approved of duelling, was
jealous of the right of giving it his sanction, and was much displeased
if a challenge was sent without his knowledge. Thus De Cipsière was
obliged to absent himself from the Louvre for a considerable time, for
having presumed to send his compliments to D’Audoin by Vicomte Gourdon,
and to inform him that he was going to hear mass at the church of St.
Paul, where if M. D’Audoin would attend at the same time, they would
afterwards take a walk into the country by the Porte St. Antoine.
Several duels during this reign may almost be considered as judicial
combats, since they took place in the presence of the sovereign, who
thus constituted himself an arbiter.

The reign of Francis might have been one of gallantry and of pleasure;
and there are not wanting even ladies who, in the present day, look
upon its profligacies and their ferocious results as noble deeds,[12]
the effects of chivalric devotion. I must confess that, in looking over
its annals, I can find nothing remarkable, except an outrageous breach
of all morality and decorum, and a wanton waste of human blood.

The miserable successor of this prince, Henry II, whose reign was
ushered in by the disgraceful duel between Jarnac and La Chasteneraye,
which I have already related, encouraged duelling by his want of
energy; the princes of the blood followed the general example: and we
find the Prince Charles, brother to the Duke de Bourbon Montpensier,
fighting with D’Andelot, brother of the Admiral Coligny, at a hunting
party.

It was during this reign that a singular duel took place between a
youth of the name of Châteauneuf, and his guardian Lachesnaye, an old
man of eighty. The champions met at the Isle Louviers, the subject
of the dispute being a lawsuit concerning the minor’s property.
Châteauneuf asked the old gentleman, if there was any truth in the
reports circulated, that he had made use of disrespectful language
concerning him; which the other positively denied on the word of a
gentleman. This assertion satisfied the youth; but the old man would
not let the matter rest. “You may be satisfied,” he replied, “but that
is more than I am: and, since you have given me the trouble of coming
here, we must fight. What would all those folks say, who have done
us the honour of collecting to see us on both sides of the river, if
they found that we came here to talk instead of acting? Our honour is
concerned; let us therefore begin.” Both were armed with swords and
daggers; when Lachesnaye exclaimed, “_Ah! paillard! tu es cuirassé!_”
which we might translate into modern phraseology, “You varmint! you
have a cuirass on. “_Ah! je t’aurai bien autrement!_”--“You shall catch
it in another manner!” and forthwith made his cut and thrust at the
face and throat; an attack which by no means disconcerted the young
combatant, who very quietly ran the old gentleman through the body.

The youth of those gallant times were not very punctilious when they
were less successful than Châteauneuf, as appears in the following
adventure:--

The King, being out at a stag-hunt in the wood of Vincennes,
accompanied by the nephew of Marshal St. André, this youth sought
a quarrel with an elderly gentleman of the name of Matas, and they
repaired to a lonely part of the wood, where Matas gave him a salutary
lesson in fencing, by disarming him, whipping his sword out of his
hand as soon as he was on guard; adding, “For the future, young man,
learn to hold your sword, and do not seek to encounter a man like me!
Take up your sword; depart, and I forgive you.” So saying, he was
mounting his horse, when his adversary having raised his sword from the
ground, thought the best use he could make of it was to rid himself
of so troublesome a witness of his shame; he therefore stabbed him in
the back, and left the corpse on the ground. The chronicler adds, “No
notice of this transaction took place, for the young man was nephew
of Marshal St. André; whereas the other was only a relation of Madame
de Valentinois (the famed Diana de Poitiers), who, after the death of
Henry II, had lost all her influence at court.” Nay, poor Matas was
even blamed for having rebuked a fiery and honourable youth! “It is
wrong,” says the chronicler, “for old boasting fencers to abuse their
good fortune, and taunt a youth who is only in the bud,--_car Dieu s’en
attriste!_”--It grieves God!

Nothing could exceed the _sang froid_ that these desperate men
exhibited on such occasions. Brantôme relates the case of a duel
between a Norman gentleman and a little chevalier named De Refuge. They
had taken a boat to go over to the Isle du Palais, to fight without
witnesses; when, perceiving that several other boats were in pursuit
of them, they jumped on shore, one of them exclaiming, “Pray, let us
make haste, for they are coming to separate us!” and, so saying, they
attacked each other. After four lounges, they were both dead. The same
writer mentions a Seigneur de Gensac, who was eager to encounter two
champions at once; and, when the absurdity of the attempt was alleged,
merely replied, “Why, history is full of such deeds! and, _mon Dieu!_ I
am determined to have my name recorded.”

The following adventure of an illustrious murderer, called by Brantôme
the Paragon of France, may give an idea of those glorious times:--

Duprat, Baron de Vitaux, was son of the Chancellor Duprat, and from
early life had displayed symptoms of undaunted “courage.” He commenced
his career in arms by killing the young Baron de Soupez, with whom he
had quarrelled at dinner, when Soupez threw a candlestick at him and
broke his head: he waylaid him on the road to Toulouse; and, having
despatched him, effected his escape in female attire. His next exploit
was murdering a gentleman of the name of Gounelieu, to avenge the
death of one of his brothers, a lad of fifteen, whom Gounelieu had
killed; on this expedition he was accompanied by a young nobleman named
Boucicaut; their victim was travelling post near St. Denis, when they
met with him: after this achievement, he fled to Italy, Gounelieu being
a favourite of the King. Vitaux, however, could not remain long in
exile and inactivity, but returned to France for the express purpose of
revenging the death of another brother, killed by a near relation of
his own, the Baron de Mittaud.

This Baron was a _Seigneur_ from Auvergne, and had been summoned to
court by Charles IX. to act as an interpreter to the ambassadors from
Poland, who came to offer the crown of that kingdom to the King’s
brother, the Duc d’Anjou. Mittaud, little suspecting that Vitaux
was in Paris, was not upon his guard; while Vitaux, who had allowed
his beard to grow to a considerable length, and was disguised as a
lawyer, was watching every opportunity to surprise him,--having taken
an obscure lodging on the Quai des Augustins, in company with his old
companion Boucicaut, and a brother of his, both of them _brave and
valiant men_, and called the _Lions_ of the Baron de Vitaux. These
worthies, having met the Baron de Mittaud, immediately despatched
him; but it so happened, that, in defending himself, he had wounded
one of the Boucicauts, who, not being able to keep pace with the two
other assassins in their flight, was obliged to stop at a barber’s
shop to get his wound dressed: he had been tracked by the traces of
the blood he had lost in his flight, and was taken up by the Archers
of the Provost twelve leagues from Paris; and, being confined in Fort
l’Evêque, expected to have been executed, since both the King and his
brother decided that he should forfeit his life.

It so happened, that the Polish ambassadors lodged in the house of
the prisoner’s brother, who was Provost of Paris, and who earnestly
supplicated them to apply to the King and his brother for the culprit’s
pardon. The Polish envoys, backed by President de Thou, made a long
harangue in Latin; which, whether the monarch understood them or not,
succeeded in ultimately attaining their demand, and Boucicaut shortly
after appeared at court as gay and as unconcerned as ever.

This event only encouraged our _hero_, who shortly after returned to
Paris, and killed with “incredible audacity,” says the chronicler,
Louis de Guart, the King’s favourite, who had presumed to oppose the
grant of his pardon. Vitaux, with seven or eight companions, entered
Guart’s house, and killed him in his bed; using for the purpose
“a sword very short and very keen, which, upon such occasions, is
considered preferable to a long one.” “This act,” adds the historian,
“was considered one of great resolution and assurance.” One might have
expected that such a ruffian would have died on the gallows; but he
sought the protection of the Duc d’Alençon, being under the patronage
of Queen Marguerite, of whom he was a special favourite.

At last, the Baron de Mittaud, brother of the one he had assassinated
eight years previously, called him out: both parties were duly
examined, although it was maintained that Mittaud wore a thin cuirass,
painted flesh-colour, under his garments. Howbeit, the point of
Vitaux’s sword was bent either upon this protection, or one of his
ribs; finding that all his lounges and thrusts were of no avail, he
had recourse to hacking and hewing, when in four well-applied cuts his
adversary despatched him, without having had the “courtesy of offering
him his life.” “Thus,” further says the historian, “died this brave
Baron, the _Paragon_ of France, where he was as much esteemed as in
Spain, Germany, Poland, and England; and every foreigner who came to
court was most anxious to behold him: he was small in stature, but
lofty in courage: his enemies pretended that he did not kill people
‘properly’ (_il ne tuait pas bien ses gens_), but had recourse to
various stratagems; wherein,” says Brantôme, “it is the opinion of
great captains, even Italians, who were always the best avengers in
the world,--that stratagem might be encountered by stratagem, without
any breach of honour.” Brantôme adds, “I have spoken enough of him;
although I should immortalize him were it in my power, as much for his
merits, as for the sincere friendship that existed between us!”

The duel that most grieved the heart of Henry III. was that which
occurred between his favourite _mignons_, Caylus and D’Entragues,
who had fallen out about some fair ladies of the court. Riberac and
Schomberg, a young German, were seconds to D’Entragues; Maugerin and
Livaret were the seconds of Caylus. The parties met near the ramparts
of the Porte St. Antoine, no one being present but three or four “poor
persons, wretched witnesses of the valour of these worthy men.”

The moment the principals had commenced, Riberac addressed Maugerin,
saying, “Methinks that we had better endeavour to reconcile these
gentlemen, rather than allow them to kill each other.” To which
unworthy proposal the other replied, “Sir, I did not come here to
string beads; I came here to fight!” “And with whom?” innocently asked
Riberac; “since you are not concerned in this quarrel,--with whom?”
“With you, to be sure,” was the laconic reply of Maugerin. “If that be
the case,” added Riberac, “let us pray;” and, so saying, he drew his
sword and dagger, and placing the hilts cross-ways, fell upon his knees
to put up proper orisons: but Maugerin thought his doxology too prolix;
and, swearing most irreligiously, told him “that he had prayed long
enough.” Upon which they furiously attacked each other, until both fell
dead.

Schomberg, the other second, beholding this episode, addressed Livaret
very politely, saying, “These gentlemen are fighting; what shall we
do?” To which the other replied, “We cannot do better than fight,
to maintain our honour.” Schomberg, who was a German, forthwith cut
open the cheek of his adversary; a compliment which Livaret politely
returned by a thrust in the breast, which stretched him a corpse,
to keep company with the body of Maugerin. Riberac was borne from
the field, and died of his wounds the next day. D’Entragues, though
severely wounded, effected his escape; while Caylus was carried to his
death-bed, where he bitterly complained that his adversary had a dagger
in addition to his sword. In consequence of being obliged to parry the
thrusts of the former with his hand, he had been stabbed in several
places. He further stated, that he had said to D’Entragues, “You have
a dagger, and I have none!” To which the other replied, “So much the
worse for you; you ought not to have been such a fool as to have left
it at home.” Brantôme observes, that he does not exactly know whether,
from a sense of _gentillesse chivalaresque_, he ought not to have laid
aside his dagger. Livaret, two years after, was killed in a duel; when
his servant, on seeing him fall, picked up his sword, and killed his
adversary, the son of the Marquis de Pienne. The King was so afflicted
at the death of Caylus, that he gave orders to have him buried by the
side of another of his _mignons_, Sainct Megrin, who was assassinated
by the Duke de Guise at the Louvre gate.

The custom of the seconds fighting with each other appears to have been
introduced by the royal _mignons_, who, no doubt, vied with each other
for the monarch’s favour. In these murderous contests, one of the most
celebrated bravoes was Bussy d’Amboise, one of the principal actors
in the massacre of St. Barthelemi, during which he assassinated his
own near relation, Antoine de Clermont, with whom he was at law. This
was undoubtedly a more _expedient_ motive than the one that induced
him to call out a gentleman of the name of St. Phal, who having an X
embroidered on some part of his apparel, Bussy maintained that it was
a Y. A combat forthwith took place, of six against six. One could
scarcely believe that the brave Crillon should have risked his life
with such a pernicious cut-throat. Yet it is recorded that, having
met him one day in the Rue St. Honoré, Bussy asked him the hour; when
Crillon, drawing his sword, replied, “It is the hour of thy death!”
Fortunately the combatants were separated. The intrigues of Bussy
with Marguerite de Valois are well known; and at the same period he
boasted of the favour of the Countess de Montsoreau, whose husband was
master of the hunt of the Duke d’Alençon; and having written to that
prince, that he had caught a deer of the Count’s in his snares, the
letter was shown to Henry III, who kindly put it into the husband’s
hand. The master of the hunt did not deem it advisable to risk his
life in seeking revenge, but compelled his faithless spouse to give
a _rendez-vous_ to her paramour; when, instead of his mistress’s
embraces, he was received by the daggers of hired bravoes.

The assassination of this monarch himself (Henry III.) afforded
a singular instance of the manners of the time, and the reckless
character of the courtiers. A young man in the royal household, of the
name of Isle Marivaux, determined not to survive his royal master; and
begged to know if any one would do him the favour of fighting with
him, to give him a fair chance of being killed. Fortunately for him,
another courtier, of the name of Marolles, took him at his word; and,
after a few lounges, gratified his best wishes.

Such were what historians called “_the good old times_,” when, as a
late writer asserts, the lasciviousness of Messalina was combined with
the ferocity of Nero and the gluttony of Heliogabalus; and when wit and
ribaldry were the associates of assassination. Thus, when Catherine de
Medicis was informed upon her death-bed of the murder of the Duke and
Cardinal de Guise, she replied, “’Tis well cut out, my son; but now
your work must be stitched!”




CHAPTER VIII.

FRANCE IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.


We now come to a reign which was considered the most glorious in the
annals of French history--that of Henry IV. Yet France showed that the
private character of a monarch can exert but little influence over the
manners of a people previously demoralized by capricious tyranny and by
civil war. It has been truly said, that “Henry, surnamed the Great, did
not illustrate the character of his times, but Ravaillac;” it is also a
singular fact, that the name of Henry seemed to be fatal to the French
monarchy, and five assassins were found to raise their murderous hands
against a sovereign said to be beloved.

In vain did Henry IV. issue the most positive edicts against duelling;
his commands were unheeded, and his humane intentions invariably set at
nought. From his accession to the throne in 1589, until 1607, it was
calculated that no less than four thousand gentlemen were killed in
affairs of honour; and we find that, in a journal of the 8th of August
1606, was to be read the following paragraph:--“Last week we had in
Paris four assassinations and three duels, no notice having been taken
of these events.” The desperate nature of these bloody feuds was such,
that whole families were destroyed. This was instanced in the case
of two persons of the name of Joeilles and Devese, the former having
seduced the wife of the latter. Devese only accepted the challenge to
draw his enemy into an ambush, with the intention of murdering him;
but he fortunately escaped with a wound in the back. Having joined the
army in Savoy some time after, he again sought his adversary, who fired
a pistol at him, and ran away. The King, on hearing of this offence,
dismissed Devese from his regiment, granting a permission to Joeilles
“to attack him in whatever manner he thought proper, to seize upon his
property and houses, and his person wherever he found him.” However,
a reconciliation was attempted to be brought about, and the hand of
a sister of Devese was to be the pledge of peace; but Joeilles, bent
upon revenge, so managed it, that he seduced the young lady, and then
refused to marry her. Her brother soon avenged her wrongs by waylaying
and killing him, when a relation of Joeilles got him shot with a musket
by a person of the name of D’Aubignac, In fine, one girl was the only
survivor of the two families; illustrating, during the far-famed reign
of this sovereign, the _vendeta_ of the Corsicans.

This evil may have been justly attributed to the chivalrous ideas of
the monarch, who acted in defiance of his own wise decrees; since we
find him writing to his friend, Duplessis Mornay, who complained of
having been insulted, “I feel much hurt upon hearing of the insult you
have received, and in which I sympathise both as your sovereign and
your friend. In the first capacity, I shall see justice done, both for
your sake and mine; and if I only bore the second quality, you should
find me most ready to draw my sword, and most cheerfully to expose my
life.” Can it be surprising that such a monarch should have fallen
under an assassin’s blow? In November 1594, the eldest son of the Duc
de Guise, having sought a quarrel with the Comte de St. Pol, ran him
through the body in the streets of Rheims; yet, two years after, the
King appointed that very person to the government of Provence.

Ruffians of the most sanguinary disposition became noted and respected
under this popular Henry IV. One of them named Lagarde Valois, was
celebrated for his brutal deeds; another quarrelsome ruffian, named
Bazanez, was determined to have a trial of skill with him, and for this
purpose sent him a hat, ornamented with feathers, and accompanied
with a message, stating that he would wear it at the peril of his
life. Lagarde immediately put the hat upon his head, and set out in
quest of Bazanez, who was also looking for him in every direction.
Having at last met, after an exchange of mutual civilities the combat
began. Lagarde inflicted a wound on the forehead of his antagonist;
but, the head being harder than his steel, his sword was bent on the
skull: he was more fortunate in his next lounge, which penetrated his
antagonist’s body, when he exclaimed, “This is for the hat!” Another
thrust was equally successful, when he added, “And here is for the
feathers!” This purchase he did not deem sufficient, and he therefore
gave him a third wound, exclaiming, “And this is for the loop!” During
this polite conversation, seeing the blood of his opponent streaming
from his several wounds, he complimented him on the elegant fit of
his hat, when Bazanez infuriated, rushed upon him, breaking through
his guard, and, throwing him down, stabbed him in the throat with
his dagger, and repeated his desperate blows fourteen times in his
neck, chest, and stomach; while at each stab, as the wretched man
roared out for mercy, the other replied at every reiterated thrust,
“No! no! no!” However, during this conflict, the prostrate Lagarde
was not altogether idle; he bit off a portion of his adversary’s
chin, fractured his skull with the pommel of his sword, and “only
lost his courage with his life.” During this scene, the seconds were
amusing themselves also in fencing, until one of them was laid dead
on the field of honour. This Lagarde, it appears, was as concise in
his epistolary style as in his colloquial eloquence during a fight:
the following is a copy of one of his letters to a man whom he was
determined to despatch. “I have reduced your home to ashes; I have
dishonoured your wife, and hanged your children; and I now have the
honour to be your mortal enemy,--LAGARDE.”

It has already been stated, that during the reign of Henry IV. four
thousand gentlemen lost their lives in single combat; and, by the
statement of Daudiguier, this monarch granted fourteen thousand pardons
for duelling. It was in vain that the wise Sully exerted his influence
to check this execrable practice; the following extract from his
Memoirs affords a striking illustration of the times:--

It was in consequence of the constant remonstrance of this minister
that Henry issued various prohibitory edicts, which criminated
duellists as guilty of _lèse-majesté_, and punished the offence with
death. The edict of Blois, in 1602, not only condemned both the
challenger and the challenged, with their seconds, to death, and
confiscation of their goods; but further ordered that all offended
parties should submit their complaints to the governor of their
province, to be laid before the constable and marshals of France. This
was the origin of the jurisdiction of the “point of honour,” which may,
however, be partly referred to an edict of Charles IX. of 1566, but
which was only embodied as a code under Louis XIV.

Bellieme, then chancellor of France, maintained that duels would not
cease until the King ceased to intermeddle with them; but, if left to
him, he would soon put a stop to the practice by refusing a pardon to
all offenders; observing, that the most forward to fight would draw
back, if, whatever were to be the issue of the duel, they saw that
death was inevitable. Such was the course adopted by the Prince de
Melfi, who commanded the army in Piedmont, and who obliged both the
challengers and the offenders to fight upon a narrow bridge without
rails or parapet, and guarded at both extremities, so that there was no
escaping from drowning, or being run through the body.

It appears that all these edicts, notwithstanding the severity of their
formulary, were unheeded, and seldom or never carried into execution;
indeed, there were as many saving clauses and loop-holes in these
decrees as in any of our modern acts of parliament, through which
it has been truly observed, one could drive a coach and four: for
instance, while duels were denounced as impious and infamous, it was
provided that the offended parties should have the power of applying
to the sovereign through the marshals of France for permission to
fight; another clause specified that “a person who demanded a battle
without sufficient reason, should be dismissed with shame:” but there
is not a single instance of the application of this law upon record;
and D’Audiguier observes, “that as the King never granted permission to
fight to any applicant, and had frequently refused it, it was evident
that there was no use in making an application, therefore the parties
came to blows without any reference to authority, and were, with very
few exceptions, pardoned by the royal clemency.” Sully observes on this
subject, “that the facility with which the King forgave duels tended to
multiply them, and hence these fatal examples pervaded the court, the
town, and the kingdom.”

Montaigne says on this subject, that he verily believes, “if three
Frenchmen were put into the Libyan desert, they would not be a month
there without quarrelling and fighting;” and Hardouin de Perefix,
Bishop of Rhodes, observes, in his Life of Henry IV, “that the madness
of duels did seize the spirits of the nobility and gentry so much,
that they lost more blood by each other’s hands in time of peace, than
had been shed by their enemies in battle.” Chevalier, in his work
called “Les Ombres des Defunts,” asserts that, in the province of
Limousin alone, in the space of six or seven months, there were killed
one hundred and twenty gentlemen.

But such is the empire of prejudice, and the contagion of fashion, that
Sully frankly avows that he was nigh quarrelling with his royal master
for having had the imprudence to consent to be present at a duel,
when Henry IV. briefly told him that he deserved to lose his head for
having dared to assume a regal power in the precincts of his court;
and most probably the minister would have been disgraced, but for the
interference of the ladies of the court.

In fact, these edicts, like many other criminal laws, defeated their
own intention by their severity, which would have rendered their
application as ferocious as the offences which they were to punish;
they were thus rendered illusive in practice, however praiseworthy
they might have been in theory,--the one neutralizing the operation of
the other. Sully justly observed on this subject, “that the excessive
severity of the means would be the source whence would arise the
principal obstacles to their execution; and frequently the penalties
which produce the greatest impression are such, that one cannot apply
for forgiveness.” Sully, however, failed in his laudable exertions to
check this practice; and we shall find that Richelieu, whose power was
much more formidable, did not meet with much greater success while
endeavouring to crush the proud and unmanageable aristocracy of France.

In the midst of these scenes of blood, it affords some relief to
find that there were individuals who dared the prejudice of public
opinion, and, respecting the laws both of God and man, firmly resisted
the practice. History records the instance of Monsieur de Reuly, a
young officer, who could not be induced to fight a duel under any
circumstances. Having once been grievously offended, he submitted the
case to the decision of his generals, who determined it in his favour;
but his opponent insisted upon a personal meeting, and sent him a
challenge. De Reuly told the servant who brought it, that the person
who had sent him was much in the wrong, and that he had received all
the satisfaction which in justice or reason could be demanded. But the
other still pressing and repeating his challenge, and that too with
some insolent and provoking language, Reuly stated “that he could not
accept the challenge, since God and the King had forbidden it; that he
had no fear of the person who had insulted him, but feared God, and
dreaded offending him; that he would go every day abroad, as he was
wont, wherever his affairs should call him; and that, if any attack was
made upon him, he would make his aggressor repent it.”

His adversary, unable to draw him into a duel, sought him with his
second; and, having met him when only attended by his servant, attacked
him, when both the principal and his second were severely wounded
by him; and, assisted by his servant, he carried them both to his
quarters, where he got their wounds dressed, and refreshed them with
some wine: then, restoring to them their swords, he dismissed them,
assuring them that no boasting of his should ever compromise their
character; nor did he ever after speak of the transaction, even to the
servant who had been present at the affair.




CHAPTER IX.

DUELS DURING THE REIGN OF LOUIS XIII.


During the reign of this monarch, or rather the sovereignty of his
minister, private rencontres were carried on with as much ferocity
as ever, and some of these meetings were attended with circumstances
which rendered them as absurd as they were atrocious. In one instance
we see two champions getting into a puncheon and fighting with knives;
and in another two noblemen fought with daggers, holding each other by
the left hand; while the 16th of January 1613 was rendered remarkable
by the tragic end of Baron de Luz and his son, who were killed by the
Chevalier de Guise.

The baron had met De Guise in the Rue St. Honoré, and some words arose
between them relative to the death of the late De Guise, who had been
assassinated at Blois by order of Henry III. The baron was on foot, De
Guise on horseback; he immediately alighted, and requested the baron
to draw: the old man could scarcely believe that the chevalier was in
earnest, yet drew his sword in self-defence. He was aged, and for
years had been out of practice; whereas his antagonist was a young man,
in the prime of life, and famed for his swordsmanship. His first thrust
proved fatal, his sword passing through the body of his adversary,
who staggered to a shoemaker’s shop hard by, and fell down dead. His
antagonist quietly remounted his horse, and rode off in the most
unconcerned manner.

The deceased had a son about the same age as the chevalier, who upon
hearing of his father’s death, was determined to avenge him. From the
high rank and station of De Guise, he well knew that, if he fell, no
part of Europe could afford him an asylum from prosecution; yet was he
determined in so just a cause to run every risk, and, as he did not
dare approach the hotel of the proud nobleman, he sent him a challenge
by his squire, couched in the following respectful language.

“No one, my lord, can bear witness to the just reason of my sorrow
more forcibly than your lordship; I therefore entreat your lordship to
forgive my resentment when expressing my desire that you will do me
the honour of meeting me sword in hand, to give me satisfaction for
my father’s death. The esteem which I entertain for your well-known
courage induces me to hope that your lordship will not plead your high
rank to avoid a meeting in which your honour is so deeply compromised,
The gentleman who bears this, will conduct you to the place where I am
waiting for your lordship with a good horse and two swords, of which
you will have the choice; or, should your lordship prefer it, I shall
attend you at any place you may command.”

The meeting took place on horseback; and, after a desperate conflict,
the murderer of the father gave the son the satisfaction of taking his
life also: while they were fighting, their seconds wounded each other.
D’Audiguier, who gives the particulars of this duel, adds, that “this
victory would have been more gratifying to God if he had fought for the
same cause that led his ancestors into Palestine!”

This De Guise was grandson of Henri de Lorraine, Duc de Guise, surnamed
_the Great_, and who was killed at the siege of Orleans; his father,
surnamed the _Balafré_, from a deep scar on the face, was assassinated
at Blois: they were both looked upon as _Doctors_ in the science of
duelling, and their opinion and decision considered law.

This De Guise was banished to Italy by Richelieu, where he died in
1640. His son, Henri de Lorraine, was equally celebrated for his
amorous adventures and chivalric achievements, and was brought to
trial by Richelieu as an accomplice in the conspiracy of the Count de
Soissons, and sentenced to death, _par contumace_, as he had fled to
Italy; but he returned afterwards to France, and we find him one of
the champions in the celebrated _carousel_ of 1662, having previously
killed in a duel the Count de Coligny, grandson of the admiral, who
was assassinated in the massacre of St. Barthelemi: with him ended the
turbulent and bloodthirsty family of De Guise, as society was rid of
him in 1664.

The _Balafré_ had a third son, Louis, who was a cardinal, and
archbishop of Rheims. This prelate was a worthy scion of the desperate
stock. He was often seen doffing his canonical vestments to don the
cuirass and helm; he fought in the ranks of his sovereign during his
expedition in Poitou, and died after the attack on Saint Jean d’Angely.
This worthy member of the church militant, having a lawsuit with the
Duke de Nevers, wanted to decide the cause at the point of the sword.

D’Audiguier, who has related many of the duels of his time, was a
gentleman belonging to the court of Louis XIII, and made a supplication
to that monarch not only to cancel all edicts against duelling, but
to allow the practice, in the following terms: “A great trial, Sire,
is carried on between the nobility and the law in your Majesty’s
dominions, in which you alone can decide: your nobility maintain that
a gentleman whose honour is impeached should either vindicate it with
his sword, or forfeit his life; whereas law asserts that a gentleman
who draws his sword shall lose his life: and surely your Majesty, who
is the chief of the most generous nobility in existence, cannot feel it
your interest thus to blunt their valour; or, under the vain pretence
of preserving their honour, behold them reduced to the necessity of
losing sight of its dictates, or seek to maintain it with their pen,
like the low-bred, disputing the right of arms before menial clerks.”
Our advocate of the rights of _honour_ concludes by imploring the King
to render duels less frequent by permitting them to take place on
certain occasions when the King himself should be present; and when
the public, he adds, “instead of being involved in differences and
lawsuits, which consume both blood and fortune, would be delivered of
the two monsters, and would feel proud of displaying their courage in
your service, and their valour in your royal presence.”

Despite these arguments, various prohibitory edicts were issued during
this reign: one in particular, dated 1626, forbade all applications
for pardon or solicitation in favour of the criminals; and, like
his predecessor Henri IV, Louis even denounced as criminal all such
applications from the Queen, whom he called his _très chère et aymée
compagne_; he further protested and declared before Heaven, that he
would never grant any exemption from this ordonnance. Notwithstanding
the sanctity of these protestations, we find Louis XIII. granting a
free pardon to duellists, “on account of the earnest entreaties made by
his much-loved and dear sister, the Queen of Great Britain, upon the
occasion of her marriage.”

Duels must have been of frequent occurrence during this reign, since
Lord Herbert of Cherbury, then our ambassador at the French court,
asserts that there was scarcely a Frenchman deemed worth looking on who
had not killed his man in a duel.

This chivalric nobleman, to show the prevalence of duelling in France,
and the respect in which duellists were held, relates the case of a M.
Mennon, who being desirous to marry a niece of M. Disancour, who it
was thought would be his heiress, was thus answered by him; “Friend,
it is not time yet to marry: I will tell you what you must do if you
will be a brave man. You must first kill in single combat two or three
men; then marry, and engender two or three children; and the world
will neither have gained nor lost by you.” Of which strange counsel,
Disancour was no otherwise the author than inasmuch as he had been an
example, at least of the former part, it being his fortune to have
fought three or four gallant duels in his time.

Another anecdote of Lord Herbert shows in what consideration duellists
were held by the fair sex. “All things being ready for the ball,
and every one being in their place, and I myself next to the Queen,
expecting when the dancers would come in, one knocked at the door
somewhat louder than became, I thought, a very civil person; when he
came in, I remember there was a sudden whisper amongst the ladies,
saying, ‘_C’est Monsieur Balaguy!_’ Whereupon I also saw the ladies and
gentlemen, one after another, invite him to sit near them; and, what is
more, when one lady had his company a while, another would say, ‘You
have enjoyed him long enough, _I_ must have him now.’ At which bold
civility of them, though I was astonished, yet it added to my wonder
that his person could not be thought at most but ordinary handsome;
his hair, which was cut very short, half grey; his doublet, but of
sackcloth, cut to his skin; and his breeches only of plain grey cloth.
Informing myself by some standers-by who he was, I was told that he was
one of the gallantest men in the world, as having killed eight or nine
men in single fight, and that for this reason the ladies made so much
of him; it being the manner of all French women to cherish gallant
men, as thinking they could not make so much of any else with the
safety of their honour.”

It appears, however, that, notwithstanding this reckless spirit
of duelling that prevailed in France, Lord Herbert had found some
difficulty in bringing various noblemen to the field; and the following
account gives a fair picture of the times.

“It happened one day that a daughter of the Duchess de Ventadour, of
about ten or eleven years of age, going one evening from the castle to
walk in the meadows, myself, with divers French gentlemen, attended
her and some gentlewomen that were with her. This young lady wearing
a knot of riband on her head, a French cavalier took it suddenly and
fastened it to his hatband: the young lady, offended, herewith demands
her riband; but he refusing to restore it, the young lady, addressing
herself to me, said, ‘Monsieur, I pray, get my riband from that
gentleman.’ Hereupon, going towards him, I courteously, with my hat
in my hand, desired him to do me the honour that I might deliver the
lady her riband or bouquet again; but he roughly answering me, ‘Do you
think I will give it to you, when I have refused it to her?’ I replied,
‘Nay, then, sir, I will make you restore it by force!’ Whereupon, also,
putting on my hat, and reaching at his, he to save himself ran away;
and after a long course in the meadow, finding that I had almost
overtook him, he turned short, and, running to the young lady, was
about to put the riband in her hand, when I, seizing upon his arm, said
to the young lady, ‘It was I that gave it.’ ‘Pardon me,’ quoth she, ‘it
is he that gives it me.’ I said then, ‘Madam, I will not contradict
you; but, if he dare say that I did not constrain him to give it, I
will fight with him.’ The French gentleman answered nothing thereunto
for the present, and we conducted the lady again to the castle. The
next day I desired Mr. Aurelian Townshend to tell the French cavalier
that he must confess that I constrained him to restore the riband, or
fight with me. But the gentleman, seeing him unwilling to accept of
this challenge, went out from the place; whereupon, I following him,
some of the gentlemen that belonged to the Constable, taking notice
hereof, acquainted him therewith, who, sending for the French cavalier,
checked him well for his sauciness in taking the riband away from his
grandchild, and afterwards bid him depart his house: and this was all
I ever heard of the gentleman, with whom I proceeded in that manner,
because I thought myself obliged thereunto by the oath taken when I was
made Knight of the Bath.”

It seems that our hero was a very pugnacious defender of ladies’
top-knots and ribands, for he relates another quarrel of a similar
nature, in the case of a Scotch gentleman, “who, taking a riband in
the like manner from Mrs. Middleton, a maid of honour, in a back-room
behind Queen Anne’s lodging in Greenwich, she likewise desired me
to get her the said riband. I repaired, as formerly, to him in a
courteous manner to demand it; but he refusing, as the French cavalier
did, I caught him by the neck, and had almost thrown him down, when
company came in and parted us. I offered, likewise, to fight with this
gentleman, and came to the place appointed, by Hyde Park; but this also
was interrupted, by order of the Lords of the Council, and I never
heard more of it.”

His lordship, notwithstanding his constant quarrels, which he most
decidedly sought for, by his own account, asserts “that, although I
lived in the armies and courts of the greatest princes in Christendom,
yet I never had a quarrel with man for mine own sake; so that, although
in mine own nature I was ever choleric and hasty, yet I never, without
occasion given, quarrelled with anybody: for my friends often have I
hazarded myself, but never yet drew my sword for my own sake singly.”

It is difficult to reconcile this assertion with a quarrel he picked
with the same Balaguy, so much renowned amongst the ladies, of whom he
had already spoken. “I remembered myself,” he says, “of the bravado of
M. Balaguy, and, coming to him, told him that I knew how brave a man
he was, and that, as he had put me to one trial of daring when I was
last with him in the trenches, I would put him to another; and saying
that I had heard he had a fair mistress, and that the scarf he wore was
her gift, I would maintain I had a worthier mistress than he, and that
I would do as much for her sake as he, or any one else, durst do for
his.”

Balaguy very wisely declined the meeting, with a joke of somewhat an
indelicate nature: to which Lord Herbert replied, “that he spoke more
like a _paillard_ than a cavalier!” And here, strange to say, the
matter ended. To doubt the courage of Balaguy, is out of the question;
and it is but reasonable to infer that Lord Herbert was looked upon in
the court of France as a crackbrained knight-errant. In the case of
the young lady’s top-knot, there is little doubt but that the French
cavalier was her favourite, whom in a pettish moment she sought to
embroil with our hero; and the Frenchman very wisely considered the
whole business a childish joke.

The Quixotic character of Lord Herbert was fully illustrated after
the siege of Rees, when a trumpeter came from the Spanish army with a
challenge from a Spanish cavalier, purporting, that if any cavalier
would fight a single combat for the sake of his mistress, the said
Spaniard would meet him upon the assurance of a field. His lordship
was the only madman found to accept the defiance; and on this occasion
received from the Prince of Orange a very salutary piece of advice.
“His Excellency thereupon,” he says, “looking earnestly upon me, told
me he was an old soldier, and that he had observed two sorts of men who
used to send challenges of this kind: one of them, who, having lost
perchance some part of their honour in the field before the enemy,
would recover it again by a single fight; the other was of those who
sent it only to discover whether our army had in it men affected
to give trial of themselves in this kind. Howbeit, if this man was
a person without exception to be taken against him, he said, there
was none he knew upon whom he would sooner venture the honour of his
army than myself. Hereupon, by his Excellency’s permission, I sent
a trumpet to the Spanish army, when another trumpet came to me from
Spinola, saying, the challenge was made without his consent, and that
therefore he would not permit it.” This did not satisfy our knight; but
he forthwith repaired to the Spanish camp to seek out the challenger.
There he was received with great cordiality by Spinola; and, instead
of a battle, the visit ended in a festive dinner, during which a
conversation took place between his lordship and the Spanish general,
descriptive of the times. “_Di che moriva Signor Francesco Vere?_” To
which Lord Herbert replied, “_Per aver niente a fare_.” When Spinola
observed, “_E basta per un generale_.” Lord Herbert adds, “Indeed, that
brave commander, Sir Francis Vere, died, not in time of war, but in
peace.” He then parted from his noble host, with a particular request
to be allowed to fight the infidels if ever he undertook a crusade,
when he would be the first man who died in the quarrel.

It appears, however, that on one occasion a Frenchman, the favourite
Luynes, showed less of spirit than our countryman. Through some
misrepresentations Lord Herbert was recalled, and Luynes procured his
brother the Duke of Chaun, with a train of officers, “each of whom
had killed his man,” to go to England as ambassador extraordinary to
complain of the conduct of Lord Herbert. The inquiry terminated in his
favour, when he fell upon his knees before King James, in presence of
the Duke of Buckingham, to request that a trumpeter, if not a herald,
might be sent to Luynes to tell him that he had made a false relation
of the whole affair, and that he demanded satisfaction sword in hand.
The King answered, “that he would take it into consideration.” But
Luynes soon after died, and Herbert was again sent to France.

It may be easily imagined that Richelieu would not allow these edicts,
apparently humane, to put an end to a practice which was both directly
and indirectly of material service to his lofty ambition; and when
he could not bring to the scaffold illustrious victims, such as the
Cinque-Mars, De Thous, and Montmorency, he sought for guilt, real or
supposed, amongst those nobles who had infringed these useless laws.
Thus we find, in 1626, the young Prince de Chalais, of the house of
Talleyrand, killing in a duel the Count of Pont Gibaut, grandson of
Schomberg. He was immediately apprehended; but being a favourite of
Gaston d’Orleans the King’s brother, and moreover the lover of the
famous Duchess de Chevreuse, the cardinal was for the time deprived of
his victim, until the year 1626, when he was accused of a conspiracy
against his sovereign, sentenced to death, and executed the same day.
This judicial murder was attended with circumstances of a most cruel
nature. No executioner could be found to carry the sentence into
effect, when two malefactors were pardoned on condition that they would
perform the hateful duty; which they executed in so fearful a manner,
that the unfortunate young nobleman received thirty blows of the axe
ere his head was severed from the body.

The following year, history records another merciless act of the
cardinal. François de Montmorency, better known under the name of
Boutteville, was one of the most renowned duellists of the day. This
nobleman, whenever he heard that a person bore the reputation of a
courageous man, was in the practice of walking up to him, and quietly
saying, “I understand, sir, that you are courageous; I wish to enable
you to prove it,--what are your weapons?” Every morning the hall of his
hotel was crowded with what was called the “golden youth of France,”
where fencing and trials of skill at all arms were practised, and a
sumptuous collation laid out for the company. The excesses of these
desperadoes were so reckless, that a special edict appeared to keep
them within limits. Such was the audacity of Boutteville, that he
actually compelled the Count of Pont Gibaut on an Easter Sunday to
quit his devotions and fight him: he was also denounced for having
killed the Marquis de Portes and the Count de Thorigny. Shortly after,
fighting the Baron de la Frette, in which duel his second was killed,
he was obliged to absent himself from Paris: he fixed upon Brussels
to meet another adversary, the Marquis de Beuvron, a relation of
Thorigny, whose death he was anxious to avenge. The King, upon hearing
of this determination, wrote immediately to the Archduchess, who then
governed the Low Countries, to prevent this meeting; and directed the
Marquis de Spinola to settle their differences. For this purpose,
this nobleman invited them both to a splendid repast, and made them
embrace each other, with vows of everlasting friendship, and a total
forgiveness of all past injuries, in the presence of a numerous
company. Notwithstanding these solemn protestations, De Beuvron, on
quitting the house, whispered to Boutteville, “that he never would rest
satisfied until he had met him sword in hand.” Boutteville however
refused to meet him, on the plea of the solemn promise he had made the
Archduchess to abstain from any hostile act while on her territory;
but he entreated that princess to write to Louis XIII, to obtain the
King’s permission to return to France: to which application the monarch
replied, “that all that he could do, for the love he bore her, was to
allow him to remain in France without further prosecution, but he could
not permit him to make his appearance at court.”

Beuvron returned to Paris, wrote no less than eight letters to
Boutteville to request him to meet him there, and on his arrival
proposed a duel without seconds: to which Boutteville replied, “that
he would have had no objection to this arrangement, had not two of his
friends expressed a wish to join the party; and that he should have to
give _them satisfaction_ if they were, disappointed.” The following
day, the 12th of May, was fixed for the meeting, at three in the
afternoon, on the Place Royale, one of the most public places in the
capital; Boutteville declaring that “he would fight under sunshine,”
and following, in this remark, the example of the celebrated duellist
De Bussy, who, being challenged to fight by night, replied, “that
he would not condescend to display his valour to the stars, or even
to the moon, since they were not able to contemplate him properly,
or appreciate his skill; the obscurity of night being only fit to
screen deeds of darkness:” he further advised the parties to bring
two pioneers with them to dig their graves. It appears that strange
notions prevailed on such occasions; and Brantôme relates the case of a
gentleman who invited another to fight him on a winter’s night in their
shirts; to which he sent answer, “that he would not expose himself to
catch a cold, or a purging, which he dreaded more than his antagonist’s
valour.”

Howbeit, our champions met, with their four seconds; one of whom left
his sick bed for the purpose. The combat began with sword and dagger,
when, casting the former weapon away, the principals collared each
other, and fought with their daggers; which both holding at each
other’s throat, they mutually asked for quarter. In the mean time, one
of the seconds, the celebrated Bussy D’Amboise, had been run through
the throat by a mortal thrust; and another second, La Berthe, was also
put _hors de combat_. The principals very quietly went to lunch at a
barber’s shop; and, after seeing La Berthe’s wounds dressed, rode out
of Paris. Bussy had just time to cross himself, and die in the arms of
a worthy friar.

The fugitives, who were quietly quitting the kingdom, were recognised
by the emissaries of the sister of the deceased Bussy: Boutteville was
arrested, after having eaten a hearty supper, and retired to rest; he
was carried to the Bastille. On the 21st, being condemned to death,
he was executed the following day on the Place de Grève with great
military pomp, attended by the Bishop of Nantes: he was as anxious to
preserve his mustachoes as Sir Thomas More was to put his beard out of
the way of the executioner’s axe; when the worthy prelate observed,
“Oh! my son, you must no longer dwell on worldly matters! Do you still
think of life?” “I only think of my mustachoes!--the very finest in
France,” replied the penitent.




CHAPTER X.

DUELS DURING THE REIGN OF LOUIS XIV.


I cannot better commence the present chapter than by quoting the
following view of this epoch, entertained by a late writer on the
subject:--[13]

“The despotism of Richelieu gave birth to the autocracy of Louis XIV;
it became the energetic prologue of events naturally progressive.
Ministerial absolutism served as a transition to regal absolute power.
The ancient feudal liberty had been levelled by the monarchical scythe,
while democratic equality was not as yet sufficiently matured to supply
its place. The interregnum between these two influences left a wide
and fertile field for the uncontrolled and unlimited authority of the
_Grand Monarque_, whose name was of sufficient weight in the scale
of renown to fill up this lapse with the most brilliant _prestiges_.
It was during this invasion of one man on the ancient domains of our
rights and liberties that individualism arose: this principle was
more fully developed during the voluptuous lethargy of Louis XV, and
prepared the way for the final triumph of democracy under the feeble
sceptre of his successor.

“Richelieu dead, the aristocracy, which had ceased to be a rival power
of the throne, became its ornament, and only preserved so much of its
former glories as might have been shed around the captive sovereigns
who surrounded the triumphal cars of Roman conquerors. Yet did it
appear satisfied with this humiliation when reflecting on the miserable
crowd of slaves that followed it; the proud contempt of the victor not
foreseeing that these captives would, in their turn, burst forth from
their shackles to trample under foot the ruins both of aristocracy and
monarchy.

“Louis XIV, in the intervals of his warlike policy, fully understood
the advantages that he could reap from these elements of aristocracy,
dispersed so widely by his predecessors; and he lost no time in
collecting their bleeding remains. The nobility, in his hands, was
remodelled into an institution purely military, and he claimed
from them to restore France to her natural limits, the same means
that Charles VII. had pursued to liberate the kingdom. Thus was
re-established a patrician _militarism_, in imitation of that German
_militarism_ which dated from the conquest of the Gauls, and which
ultimately led to the plebeian militarism of modern times.”

The minority of this monarch had been marked by troubled times,
during which the spirit of duelling, that Richelieu had to a certain
extent repressed, broke forth afresh with renewed energies; and the
disturbances of the Fronde naturally increased these bloody feuds, by
giving a certain object and character to the hostile meetings that
daily took place. The monarch, anxious to preserve the blood of his
subjects for more noble enterprises, sought every means to check the
evil; and during his reign no less than ten edicts were promulgated to
restrain these excesses: the formulary of these enactments recommended
peace and concord, and fulminated destruction on the offenders. Such
was the prolixity of their legal _verbiage_, that one of the most
celebrated of these acts contained no less than forty clauses and
provisions. The spirit of these ordonnances can be easily judged of by
the terms of the following preamble, that preceded the edict of 1643:

“Having nothing dearer to our hearts than the preservation of our
nobility, whose valour, so justly celebrated and dreaded all over the
world, has only been tarnished by the irregularities of a monstrous
frenzy; after having put up our supplications to God, which we daily
continue to do with all our heart, that he may vouchsafe to open their
eyes, and dispel those hateful illusions which inspire them with a
thirst for a spurious honour; we resolve,” &c.

In this act it is clear that the monarch was most anxious to preserve
the lives and services of his most influential and distinguished
followers, and did not contemplate the shedding of their blood by
plebeian hands; but, as this did not appear to have always succeeded,
we find in the edict of 1661 the following clause:--

“Whereas it does appear that there are persons of ignoble birth,
and who have never borne arms, yet are insolent enough to call out
gentlemen who refuse to give them satisfaction, justly grounding their
refusal on the inequality of their conditions; in consequence of which
these persons excite and oppose to them other gentlemen of like degree,
whence arise not unfrequently murders, the more detestable since they
originate from abject sources; we do hereby will and ordain, that in
all such cases of challenge and combat, more especially if followed
by serious wounds or death, such ignoble and low-born citizens, duly
convicted of having caused or promoted such disorders, shall be
forthwith, and without any remission, hanged and strangled; all their
goods and chattels, &c. confiscated; and we, moreover, do allow our
judges to dispose of such part of this confiscated property as they
may deem meet, as a reward to all informers who may give due knowledge
of such offences; that, in the commission of a crime so deserving of
condign punishment, every one may be induced to make proper revelation.”

It does not appear, however, that these interdictions produced the
results that might have been expected from their severity; for in 1679
came out the celebrated _Edit des Duels_, which denounces the penalty
of death on all principals, seconds, and thirds, with greater or less
confiscation of property as royal droits: gentlemen being deprived of
their letters of nobility, and their coats of arms defaced, blackened,
and broken by the public executioner; those who fell in duel being
tried by _Contumacy_, and their bodies drawn on a hurdle, and cast into
the common receptacle of nuisances, being thus deprived of Christian
burial. A simple challenge was punished by banishment, and confiscation
of one half of the offender’s property. In regard to all bearers of
messages, or servants who had attended upon their masters on such
occasions, and who formerly were to be hanged, this edict mercifully
condemned them to be only whipped, and branded with _fleur de lis_.
Historians relate that the law was in general _strictly_ put into
execution in the latter case.

Other penalties were inflicted by a court of satisfaction and reprisal.
A lawyer who insulted another was subjected to very severe penalties;
giving the lie, striking with hand or stick, were acts that subjected
the offender to imprisonment, with the obligation of making ample
apology to the offended when released from confinement; and not
unfrequently the injured party was allowed to inflict a castigation
similar to the one he had received.

It was with this view that courts of honour were instituted, in
which the marshals of France sat as supreme judges, and, after due
investigation, ordered that such satisfaction should be given as the
case might require, in addition to the penalty of incarceration,
fine, or banishment, according to the nature of the provocation; and
in various instances guards were sent to the houses of the offenders
guilty of a contempt of court, who were obliged to maintain them for
a considerable length of time. Although the institution of courts of
honour, composed of the marshals of France, is attributed to Louis XIV,
a similar enactment took place in 1566, in the reign of Charles IX.

In theory, nothing could be more plausible than these enactments.
They were received by the nation with that enthusiasm which usually
attends upon any innovation; even the Academy granted a prize-medal
to the author of a successful poem on the abolition of duelling. In
practice, however, the law was far from attaining its desirable end.
The prejudices and false views of honour had too long prevailed to be
easily eradicated, and human passions sought every possible expedient
to elude these wise and humane provisions; it might also have been
easily foreseen, that, the novelty of the proceedings of the court
of honour once having ceased to be popular, the judges themselves,
being soldiers, punctilious on such points, which from early youth
they had considered as demanding the satisfaction of an appeal to
arms, gradually relaxed. It must also be considered that the sovereign
himself was a warlike prince, who had imbibed similar ideas from his
early days; and moreover, as has been very justly observed, that, while
he thus fulminated his royal anathema against duelling, he issued
patents to fencing-masters to allow them to exercise their craft. The
courtier well knew, that, if he screened himself from resenting an
injury under the sanction of the law of the land, the laws of society
would brand him as a coward, and the sovereign himself would withdraw
his countenance in court and camp. Nor can we be surprised at the
difficulty of checking these excesses, which were incessantly fomented
by civil and religious discord; such was the hostility that prevailed
amongst churchmen and their followers, that processions of religious
bodies not only frequently attacked each other in the streets with the
most virulent language, but actually came to blows, and fought with
crucifixes, banners, and censers in Notre Dame and the holy chapel,
pelting each other with prayer-books and missals,--a combat that
Boileau has ludicrously described in his “Lutrin;” it was observed
that the most serious ecclesiastical fray of this nature took place in
the church of Notre Dame, on the very day when Louis XIII. placed the
kingdom under the special protection of the Virgin Mary.

Private outrages, and breaches of common courtesy and decency,
frequently arose amongst the first persons in the realm. The great
Condé gave a slap in the face to the Comte des Rieux in the presence of
the Duke of Orleans, when the Count returned the blow with interest;
for which retaliation he was sent for a few days to the Bastille. This
Comte des Rieux was the son of the Duke d’Elbeuf; and it had been
jocosely observed, “that the cheeks of that nobleman’s family had
been selected as the field of battle in the wars of the Fronde.” On
this occasion it is related, that the Duke de Beaufort, the son of a
bastard of Henry IV, and who from his vulgarity and brutal excesses was
nicknamed the _Roi des Halles_, or what we might translate the _King of
Billingsgate_, asked the President de Belliévre, if he did not think
that a slap on the cheeks of the Duke d’Elbeuf might change the _face_
of affairs. The president replied, that he apprehended the only change
it might produce would be in the _face_ of the duke.

Shortly after, in 1652, this same Duke of Beaufort, having a quarrel
with his brother-in-law, the Duke de Nemours, on a point of precedence,
killed him in a pistol duel, at which four seconds were present,
who, according to the laudable practice of the times, kept company
with their principals; the Marquis de Villars shooting his adversary
D’Héricourt, whom he had then the honour to meet for the first time.

Madame de Motteville, in her Memoirs, states that this said nobleman,
his Grace of Beaufort, accompanied by six of his worthy companions,
went to insult in the most brutal manner the Duc de Candalle, upsetting
the table at which he was seated at dinner with several noble guests;
and when the Duke thus outrageously insulted demanded satisfaction,
declined meeting him, on the plea of consanguinity, as he was his
cousin-german. Despite his unruly conduct, this worthy was soon after
selected by his sovereign as chief of the admiralty.

De Beaufort was one of the principal leaders of “la Fronde,” and the
most active partisan of Cardinal de Retz, who, although a dignitary of
the church, knew the use of his sword as well, if not better, than his
breviary; he fought two duels, alleging as a precedent his predecessor
the Cardinal de Guise, who was ever ready to wield either a sword or a
crucifix.

It was during this reign that arose the celebrated quarrel between the
beautiful Duchess de Longueville, sister of the great Condé, and the
Duchess de Montbazon, the mother-in-law of Madame de Chevreuse; these
three ladies being concerned in all the intrigues of the busy court of
Anne of Austria, then Regent of the kingdom.

The subject of this dispute arose from a love-letter, in a woman’s
hand-writing, having been found, which was supposed to have been
dropped by the Comte de Coligny as he was leaving the apartments of
Madame de Longueville, and which contained various reports unfavourable
to the reputation of Madame de Montbazon. This letter was attributed
to Madame de Longueville, who insisted that Coligny, her acknowledged
lover, should call out De Guise, the favourite of Madame de Montbazon.
The parties met in open day in the Place Royale, where Coligny received
a mortal wound; while the two seconds, D’Estrade and De Bridieu, were
fighting, and the latter was severely wounded. This duel is worthy
of record, from the singular fatality which attended it. Admiral de
Coligny, the illustrious victim of the massacre of St. Barthelemi, was
murdered by the orders of the Duke de Guise; and, seventy years after,
the grandson of the admiral was killed by the grandson of the duke!

Notwithstanding the severity of his different edicts, Louis XIV.
took no notice of this fatal rencontre: a circumstance which led to
the observation, in a journal of the times, “that the King, although
jealous of his authority, was not sorry at heart when he saw his nobles
punctilious on matters of honour; therefore many of them willingly
exposed themselves to the severity of the law, to obtain the secret
approbation of their sovereign.” Mazarin, excepting in cases where his
authority was questioned, and his influence concerned, seldom exerted
himself to prevent these evils. The Comte de Rochefort, who had entered
his service after the decease of Richelieu, has given in his Memoirs
strange illustrations of the depravity and brutality of the times; and
we find the following account in his diary. “Chance would have it that
this day I found myself in company with the Comte d’Harcourt, and,
having drunk to great excess, it was determined that we should all set
out and rob on the Pont Neuf; an amusement brought into fashionable
vogue by the Duc d’Orleans. The Chevalier de Rieux, one of the party,
felt, like me, much repugnance to this exploit; and by his advice,
instead of joining the party, we climbed up on the neck of the bronze
horse of Henry IV, where we might safely view this adventure. Our
companions were waylaying the passengers, and had already robbed them
of several cloaks, when a party of archers appeared, and they took to
their heels. We endeavoured to follow their example; but, in coming
down from the equestrian statue, the bronze reins of the horse, on
which De Rieux was supported, were broken under his weight, and he fell
to the ground, when we were apprehended without any resistance on our
part; De Rieux complaining most loudly of the pain he experienced from
his fall, while we were both led to the Châtelet.”

The parties were kept some time in prison, De Rieux endeavouring
to exculpate himself by throwing all the blame upon Rochefort, the
narrator of this anecdote, who forthwith called him out; but, having
declined the meeting, Rochefort struck him with the flat of his sword.
He then demanded satisfaction from the Comte d’Harcourt, the leader of
the unruly party; but the count declined the honour on the plea of his
rank. Rochefort then, disappointed in his anxiety to fight, assisted
by a neighbour of Harcourt who owed him a grudge, cut down the finest
trees on that nobleman’s estate, and destroyed his preserves; till,
at last, a friend and partisan of the count, a desperado of the name
of Bréauté, sought him, and called him out on the behalf of Harcourt.
Rochefort was severely wounded; and Bréauté, who had also received
a wound in the thigh, bore off his sword as a trophy of his victory,
carrying it to the count, who celebrated his exploit in revelry.
Rochefort had been severely wounded in the lungs; but his patron, the
Cardinal Mazarin, publicly espoused his cause, and sent him his own
surgeon, with a purse of five hundred crowns. On his recovery he again
set out to despoil the property of his enemy, accompanied by a fellow
of the name of Des Planches; but these worthies fell out upon the road
while at supper, and, after throwing plates and dishes at each other,
commenced fighting with their fists. Rochefort having amused himself
in poaching on the count’s grounds, Des Planches with his followers
placed himself in ambuscade, and fired upon him and his party from
behind a hedge; apologising after this outrage, on the plea of his
having mistaken him for Harcourt and his gamekeepers. Still Mazarin
contrived to protect these desperate ruffians: and, although this Des
Planches had been dismissed the service in consequence of a dispute
with his commanding officer, he returned to Paris under the cardinal’s
patronage, to marry a wealthy person; but, his wife being unable to
check his desperate mode of living, he died after a drunken party a few
years subsequent to his marriage.

This Rochefort, in his Memoirs, gives a curious account of a challenge
sent by a person of the name of Madaillan to the Marquis de Rivard,
who had lost a leg at the siege of Puy Cerda. As fighting upon an
equal _footing_ was considered a point of honour, the marquis sent to
his opponent a surgeon with a case of instruments, proposing that he
should submit to a similar amputation. The joke was successful, and
Madaillan’s wrath was appeased.

At various periods of the French monarchy, and despite the severity of
the edicts to prevent hostile meetings, the patronage of distinguished
personages was considered sufficient to shield the transgressors
from punishment. An anecdote is related of a person who, having been
introduced into society by a noble patron, was turned out of doors for
cheating at cards, with a threat of being thrown out of the window. He
complained of this insult to his protector, who very quietly replied,
“What would you have me do? All that I can advise you at present is,
never to play at cards except on the ground-floor.”

About this period a duel took place at Brussels between Beauvais, an
esquire of the Prince de Condé, and a gentleman who had presumed to
walk up stairs before him, in which the offended esquire was mortally
wounded. This Beauvais’ ideas of honour were most fastidious, for,
although he perilled his life because another gentleman had taken
precedence of him, he resisted the earnest entreaties of the prince his
master, who on his death-bed requested him to marry a young person whom
he had seduced, and so to legitimatize the children she had borne him;
one of whom, Uranie, was afterwards married to the Prince of Savoy.

In 1663, a duel took place between La Frette and De Chalais. They were
coming out from a ball at the palace, when La Frette, who had had
some difference with De Chalais on account of certain ladies, pushed
against him, and a meeting of three against three was arranged for the
following morning. The King, being apprised of the circumstance, sent
his orders to La Frette, adding, that if he did not keep the peace,
he would have his throat cut. The bearer of the royal message was
Monsieur de Saint Aignan, to whom La Frette replied, that, as he was
his cousin, he was certain that he would not break up a pleasant party
and one so well arranged; adding, moreover, that, if he felt disposed
to join it, he was convinced that he could easily find him an opponent.
To this proposal, although the bearer of a royal mandate, Saint Aignan
acceded; and, instead of a combat between threes, it was fought by
fours, one of the party being the Marquis d’Antin. The King was justly
incensed at this act of disobedience, and especially at the conduct of
Saint Aignan, who had joined the combatants, instead of fulfilling his
pacific mission: all the parties were obliged to quit the kingdom; the
La Frettes, however, were soon after pardoned at the intercession of
Pope Clement X, who offered on this occasion to absolve the King from
his vow against duelling.

The only instance in which the severe laws against duelling were
carried into execution was at Toulouse, in the case of the Marquis de
la Donze, who had treacherously killed his brother-in-law. Whatever
effect this severity might have produced upon the public mind, it
did not appear to affect the offender, for, when upon the scaffold
his confessor exhorted him to pray for forgiveness for his crime, he
replied with the usual Gascon ejaculation, “_Sandis!_ do you call one
of the cleverest thrusts in Gascony a crime?”

Another duel which created a great sensation was the one fought between
the Counts de Brionne and d’Hautefort; the latter having called the
former out for refusing to marry his sister, whom he had courted.
Both combatants were wounded, and were proceeded against by the Grand
Provost; but, after a short imprisonment, the affair was hushed up.

It is certain that, as Voltaire has justly observed, many disputes,
which at other periods must have led to hostile meetings, were settled
during this reign without bloodshed. Such, for instance, was the
quarrel of the Dukes de Luxembourg and Richelieu about precedence;
when, after a long and angry correspondence, Richelieu, meeting
Luxembourg in the palace, where he was captain of the guard, went up to
him, and told him that he dared him on foot and on horseback, he or his
followers, either at court or in city, and even in the army, should he
proceed to it, or, in short, in any part of the world. Notwithstanding
this provocation, an apology was deemed sufficient. An apology was also
considered satisfactory in the dispute which arose between the Prince
de Conti and the Grand Prior of Vendôme, at the Dauphin’s, where the
prince accused the latter of cheating at play, and moreover called
him a coward and a liar: the prior threw the cards in his face, and
insisted upon immediate satisfaction. The prince claimed the privilege
of his birth; but at the same time condescended to add, that, although
he could not infringe the laws by acceding to his challenge, it was an
easy matter to meet him. These meetings, which were resorted to, to
keep within the pale of the laws, were called _rencontres_ instead of
duels: hence originated the term. Howbeit, the Dauphin, hearing of the
quarrel, jumped out of bed, and in his shirt, proceeded to terminate
the difference. Subsequently making his report to the King, the next
morning the Grand Prior was sent to the Bastille, whence he was only
liberated on the condition that he should make an _humble apology_ to
the Prince de Conti for having been called by him a _cheat_, a _liar_,
and a _poltroon_.

Previous to this fracas, a _rencontre_ had taken place between the
son of the Count de Latour d’Auvergne and a celebrated swordsman, the
Chevalier de Caylus; a quarrel having arisen in a brothel about cards
and prostitutes. Caylus was obliged to quit the kingdom, and his effigy
was hanged on the Place de Grève.

A gambling duel, on a point of honour, is recorded of a M. de
Boisseuil, one of the King’s equerries; who, having detected his
antagonist cheating at cards, exposed his conduct. The insulted
gentleman demanded satisfaction, when Boisseuil replied that he did not
fight with a person who was a rogue! “That _may_ be,” said the other;
“but I do not like to be _called one_!” They met on the ground, where
Boisseuil received two desperate wounds.

It was during this reign that a curious meeting took place between
La Fontaine the fabulist, whose meekness and apathy had acquired him
the name of “the Good,” and an officer. Although generally blind to
the irregularities of his wife, he once took it into his head to
become jealous of a captain of dragoons, of the name of Poignant.
La Fontaine had not himself observed the intimacy with his wife; but
some kind friends had drawn his attention to its impropriety, telling
him that it was incumbent on him to demand satisfaction. La Fontaine
reluctantly persuaded, contrary to his usual habits, got up early one
morning, took his sword, and went out to meet his antagonist. When the
parties were in presence, the worthy poet said, “My dear sir, I must
fight you, since I am assured that it is absolutely necessary.” He
then proceeded to acquaint him with the reasons that induced him to
call him out, and drew his pacific sword. The dragoon, thus obliged to
defend himself, whipped the weapon out of the inexperienced hand of the
fabulist, and, having disarmed him, proceeded quietly to point out to
him the absurdity of the reports circulated in regard to his wife, and
the folly of his having thus exposed his valuable life; adding, that
since his visits had been the occasion of scandal, he would from that
hour cease to call at his house. _Le Bon La Fontaine_ was so affected
by this sincere explanation, that he not only insisted that the captain
should pay more frequent visits than ever, but swore that he would
fight him over again if he discontinued them.

The inefficacy of the various edicts to restrain duels was at last
acknowledged, and various means were adopted to enforce them. In
the year 1651, a clergyman of the name of Olier, founder of the
congregation of St. Sulpice, conceived a plan of supplying the
inefficiency of the law, by putting honour in opposition to itself.
With this view he projected an association of gentlemen of tried
valour, who, by subscribing an engagement to which the solemnity of
an oath was to be added, obliged themselves never to send or accept a
challenge, and never to serve as seconds in a duel. In this project he
engaged the Marquis de Fénélon, a nobleman respected for the frankness
of his disposition and the austerity of his principle, as well as for
his well-known courage, when that quality had been called upon in the
service of his country; since it was of him that the great Condé had
said, that he was equally qualified for conversation, for the field,
or for the cabinet. It was to this nobleman that the justly celebrated
Archbishop of Cambray owed his education and his rise in the church.

The Marquis de Fénélon having placed himself at the head of
this association,--into which no one was admitted unless he had
distinguished himself in the service,--on the Sunday of the Pentecost,
the members assembled in the church of St. Sulpice, and placed in the
hands of M^r Olier a solemn instrument, expressing their firm and
unalterable resolution never to be principals or seconds in a duel, and
moreover to discourage the baneful practice to the utmost of their
power. The great Condé was so struck with the proceeding, that he said
to the marquis, that a person must have the opinion which he himself
entertained of his valour, not to be alarmed at seeing him the first to
break the ice on such an occasion.

However, it appears that neither the King’s determination to forward
the views of this praiseworthy association, nor the exertions of
its respectable members, could totally eradicate the prejudice that
maintained the evil; and Madame de Crequi, in her Reminiscences, sadly
errs when she affirms that during seventeen years not a duel had been
fought. Voltaire was also incorrect when he attributed to this prince,
surnamed the Great, the abolition of these bloody proceedings. Voltaire
was such an enthusiastic admirer of Louis XIV, that in this case, as in
many others, where his partiality, his prejudices, or his scepticism
prevailed, he lost sight of facts, or, at any rate, passed them over in
silence to suit his purposes. The following extract from a recent work
gives a much fairer view of this prince’s reign than is given by the
generality of his historians:

“His reign, like that of most conquerors, was equally divided between
repeated successes and failures. His arms were triumphant so long as
he fought to obtain the natural limits of France, which to this day
enjoys the fruits of his conquests; but Fortune forsook his banners as
soon as he drew his sword to level the Pyrenees. His reign commenced
in glory, and terminated in humiliation; the prestige of authority
took wing with that of victory. When the _Grand Monarque_ died, the
monarchy may be said to have descended into its sepulchre, and the
people, who had once trembled in his presence, insulted his ashes;
while the parliament, into whose halls he was wont to enter booted and
spurred, avenged themselves by trampling on his will. It was, in truth,
the protection he afforded to literature, and the patronage with which
he honoured distinguished men and letters, that acquired for him the
surname of GREAT. The Mæcenas of his age, he was entitled to
the distinction; and it has been truly said of him that France owed to
him her knowledge of literature, as Asia owed her acquaintance with
Grecian superiority to Alexander.”

The efforts of Louis to civilize the country, and encourage science
and the fine arts, were indefatigable; and what is still more
estimable in this monarch was, his attending to the improvement of the
nation during the turmoil of war. He established the most extensive
manufactures; formed the East India Company; built an observatory,
and a printing-office in his palace for the publication of the best
translations of ancient writers; sent out navigators on voyages of
discovery; and, while he received at his court Cassini, Huygens, and
the most distinguished foreigners who could adorn it, he encouraged
native genius with liberality. He personally defended Boileau,
Racine, and Molière against their enemies, provided for the family
of Corneille, directed the _studio_ of Le Brun and his contemporary
artists, while he attached Lulli to his court, and gave Quinault the
subjects of his operas; pensions too were granted to all those who had
contributed by their courage or their talents to the grandeur of the
empire. He felt and knew that no sovereign can become popular unless
national genius and talent meet with encouragement at court; and that,
thus fostered, national taste will improve more rapidly than by the
degrading importation of foreign perfections. The greatest error of
this prince was his neglect of the future, while engrossed by the
glorious schemes of the present; and his never thinking on the means
that his successor might require to replenish the exhausted exchequer.
His ambition had been to revive the Augustan age: his position, in
reality, was not unlike that of the Roman Emperor; Cæsar had become
the master of the empire, and Henry IV. had consolidated his kingdom.
Both princes ascended the throne surrounded by a warlike people that
required civilization, and Colbert was to Louis what Mæcenas had been
to his imperial master; what is more singular is, the circumstance
of their both being born in the same month, and dying nearly at the
same age. It is to be lamented that, while the great mind of Louis
encouraged the fine arts and literature, it should have been warped by
superstition and bigotry; and the persecution of Protestantism, with
the odious _Dragonades_, will ever be a blot upon his memory. We can
only account for these atrocities by considering them as the terms upon
which he obtained priestly absolution for his many vices.

It must certainly be acknowledged that duelling was discountenanced
during the reign of this prince, and was much less frequent than under
his predecessors; but I apprehend that this circumstance was more to be
attributed to the rapid progress of civilization and polished manners,
to which I have alluded, than to the severity of legal enactments.
The refinement of manners that accompanied the quick advance of
intellectual attainments materially tended to humanize society, and
to make those who could reflect on the horrors of the past, blush at
the fashionable countenance bestowed upon a practice which should have
sunk into the grave with Gothic ignorance and barbarism. War was the
sole occupation in savage times; and amongst barbarians, strangers to
all the blessings of civilized life and social enjoyments, personal
and brute courage was the only claim to distinction and pre-eminence.
Mandeville has fully illustrated such a condition of society in his
fable of the Bees: “If we well mind what effects man’s bravery, without
any other qualifications to sweeten him, would have out of an army,
we shall find that it would be very pernicious to civil society; for,
if a man could conquer all his fears, you would hear of little else
but rapine and violence of all sorts, and valiant men would be like
giants in romance. Politics, therefore, discovered in men a mixed
principle, which was a compound of justice, honesty, and all the moral
virtues, joined to courage; and all that were possessed of it turned
knights-errant, of course. They did abundance of good throughout the
world, by taming monsters, delivering the distressed, and killing
oppressors. But the wings of all the dragons being clipped, the giants
destroyed, and the damsels everywhere set at liberty, (except some few
in Spain and Italy, who remain still captivated by religious monsters,)
the order of chivalry, to whom the standard of ancient honour belonged,
has been laid aside for some time. It was like their armour, very
massy and heavy; the many virtues about it served to make it very
troublesome; and, as ages grew wiser and wiser, the principle of honour
at the beginning of the last century (1600) was melted over and over
again, and brought into a new standard. They put in the same weight
of courage half the quantity of honesty, and a very little justice,
but not a scruple of any other virtue; which has made it very easy and
portable to what it was.”

Louis XIV, although the despotic chief of a monarchical government, was
well aware that the point of honour should be held sacred amongst his
armed followers, yet was he convinced of the necessity of tempering its
brutality; while, as we have seen, he himself individually esteemed the
illegal exhibition of personal courage, which his edicts condemned.
When a courtier complained to one of the marshals that he had received
a slap in the face, the general replied, “Then, sir, go and wash it
off.” The slap in the face was the subject of an amusing passage in
Molière’s play of the “Sicilian,” where a character says, “My lord, I
have received a slap in the face,--you know what a slap in the face
is, when it is bestowed with open hand on the middle of the cheek;
I have this slap on my heart, sir, and I am meditating which is the
most advisable method to wipe off the affront, either to fight the
fellow, or to get him assassinated.” Montesquieu has observed, that in
monarchical governments, “there is nothing that _honour_ more strongly
recommends than to serve the prince in a military capacity; in fact,
this is the favourite profession of honour, because its dangers, its
success, and _even its miscarriages_, are the road to greatness: the
_honour_ of monarchies is favoured by the passions, and favours them in
return; but virtue is a self-renunciation, which is always arduous and
painful. This is the reason why we never meet with so strict a purity
of morals in monarchies as in republican governments: in monarchies,
the actions of men are not approved of as being good, but shining; not
as being just, but great; not as being reasonable, but extraordinary;
and honour allows of gallantry when united with the idea of sensual
affection, or with that of conquest.” This enlightened writer further
adds: “We have only to cast our eye on a nation (England) that may be
justly called a republic disguised under the form of a monarchy, and
we shall see how jealous they are of making a separate order of the
profession of arms, and how the military state is continually allied
to that of the citizen, and even of the magistrate, to the end that
the latter may be a pledge to their country, which should never be
forgotten. Military men in England are regarded as belonging to a
profession which may be useful, but is often dangerous; civil qualities
are therefore more highly esteemed than military.”

These sentiments are also those of one of the warmest advocates of
duelling, Coustard de Massi, who thus expresses himself: “I own that
in republican governments the practice of duelling may be prevented,
_because the courage of the people is sufficiently fostered by an
enthusiastic love of their country_; which powerful incentive alone
can elevate their troops to superior boldness, and make them perform
such astonishing acts of valour as are to be found in the Greek and
Roman histories:” but in monarchical governments our author maintains
that duelling is indispensable. What a flattering encomium bestowed
on despotism, where the passions of a profligate monarch are to be
considered more commanding than the love of country and independence!
What a lesson does not this quotation give to British duellists!

Moore has made, on this subject, the following judicious observations:
“Some have asserted that we should become a pusillanimous nation if a
less stress were laid than is at present on that species of personal
courage which is exhibited in the duel. But the annals of all ages
afford us a sufficient proof and consolation, that in all cases of
emergency the free-born subjects of a free nation, through that natural
enthusiasm which a love of their country inspires, will strain every
nerve of courage in defence of their liberty or warlike glory, without
having been previously disciplined in the school of duelling and modern
honour.”

The frequency of duels in the United States may be adduced in
opposition to the foregoing opinions; but this objection by no means
holds good. America is still a young country; and society, although
it is making rapid strides towards a higher state of civilization,
is still under the influence of rude and unpolished manners and
prejudices, which a superior education and more enlightened times
alone can remove: and I feel confident, from the daily progression of
improvement in those regions, that in half a century duels will be
there of as rare occurrence, if not rarer than in Great Britain; and
this progress will be in the ratio of that of literature and the fine
arts, for bloodshed and murder, however qualified, are incompatible
with the pursuits and the gentler occupations of peace. The sun of
science will gradually dispel the mists of ignorance and prejudice,
open the mind to the conviction of reason and of truth, and show that
a stem republican may display a courtly polish without derogating from
the independence of a free man, since courtesy of behaviour may be
considered the natural result of superior education.

I have deemed this digression from the plan of this work excusable, as
the reign of Louis XIV. may be said to have constituted an epoch in
civilization: we shall see how far his successors sought to cultivate
the advantages which it held forth.

We may say that with this reign terminated the practice of duelling,
as founded upon ancient usages; and, as I have quoted Montesquieu, a
further passage from this illustrious writer may be considered as a
recapitulation of the grounds upon which the erroneous views of the
_Point of Honour_ were based.

“We find many strange enigmas in the legal codes of barbarians. By the
law of the Frisons, half a sol was granted as a compensation for a man
who had been beaten with a stick. By the Salic law, an _ingénu_, who
gave three blows of a stick, paid a fine of as many sols; and, if blood
was drawn, he was punished as though the injury had been inflicted with
an iron weapon, and had to pay fifteen sols. The law of the Lombards
established various compositions for one, two, or three or four blows;
but now-a-days one blow is worth a hundred thousand.

“The constitution of Charlemagne, inserted in the laws of the Lombards,
enacts that those who are allowed a duel should fight with sticks:
this regulation was partially in favour of the clergy; and it is also
likely that it was intended to render duels less sanguinary. In the
Capitularies of Louis le Débonnaire, the combatants had the choice of
staves or arms; subsequently it was only serfs who fought with cudgels.

“Already I see arising the particular articles of our Point of
Honour. The accuser commenced by declaring to a judge that a person
had committed a certain action; the accused replied that he asserted a
falsehood, and the judge ordered the battle. Thus was introduced the
maxim, that the lie demanded a combat.

“When a man had once declared that he would fight, he could not avoid
the necessity; and, if he withdrew from the obligation, he was subject
to a penalty. Hence arose the rule, that, when a man had once pledged
his word, he could not retract it without dishonour.

“Gentlemen fought with each other on horseback, and with their arms;
while villains fought on foot, and with staves. Hence a stick was
considered a weapon of degradation, since a man who had been struck
with it had been treated like a villain.

“Moreover, it was only villains who fought with their faces uncovered,
therefore they alone could receive a blow in the face: thus a slap
in the face became an injury that could only be obliterated with
blood, for the man whose face had been slapped had been treated like a
low-born person.

“The German races were not less alive to this view of the Point of
Honour; they were, if possible, still more punctilious: the most
distant relations took part in disputes, and all their codes were
founded on this principle. Accordingly, the laws of the Lombards
ordained, that if a man, accompanied by his followers, went to assault
another who was not upon his guard, to bring shame and ridicule upon
him, he should pay one-half of the _composition_ which he would have
had to give in the event of his having killed him. Thus do we see our
ancestors keenly alive to an affront; but they had no particular view
of any affront of a specific nature as regards the weapon made use of,
or the part of the body that was struck.”

It is to chivalry that this eloquent writer attributes the rise of
gallantry, when sentiments of love were associated with a sense of
strength, valour, and protection; and this spirit was inherent in the
practice of tournaments, which, uniting tender passions with noble
deeds, gave to gallantry a greater importance than it would otherwise
have obtained, had they merely been trials of skill and courage in a
passage of arms; and to this day the term _gallant_ is applied to a man
brave, high-spirited in his bearing, splendid and magnificent in his
appearance, and devoted to the service of the fair.




CHAPTER XI.

DUELS DURING THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.


During this century the social body in France underwent a total
renovation and reform. A long despotism had brutalised the public mind,
and rendered it unfit to receive any generous impressions, or to be
capable of any noble reaction against tyranny. The nation was sick
of glory, and of a magnificence which had drained its wealth: still,
it murmured silently and moodily, until master-minds should appear,
to bring these elements of discord into action. Apathy had succeeded
energetic deeds, and indolence ushered in vice stripped of all its
gaudy attractive fascination, and in all its natural baseness and
turpitude. Philip d’Orleans, Regent of the kingdom during the minority
of the fifteenth Louis, plunged the court into every possible species
of debauch; and the polished gallantry of former days was succeeded by
the most degrading excesses. Libertinism, in all its hideous deformity,
no longer sought the concealment of a prudent mask; but profligacy
was considered fashionable, consequently the pride and boast of its
votaries. Vice had become the reigning _ton_; and, where a blush was
raised, it was upon the conviction of a virtuous action.

Abandoned to all the voluptuousness of a profligate court, the Regent
displayed neither authority nor energy in repressing evils, and only
considered the possession of power valuable as being the means of
commanding fresh pleasures. The former edicts on duelling were now
disregarded, since the laws were not enforced, and no punishment
awaited their transgressors. Six weeks after the death of the King, two
officers of the guards fought on the quay of the Tuileries in open day;
but, as these young men belonged to families of the long-robe, the Duke
d’Orleans, out of respect to the parliament, which he dreaded, merely
removed them from their corps, and sentenced them to a fortnight’s
imprisonment. This duel had been fought about an Angola cat; and the
duke, when reprimanding the parties, told them that in such a matter of
dispute, it should have been settled with claws instead of swords.

Courtly intrigues now became frequently mixed up with duelling, and the
jealousies and quarrels of fashionable women were the constant sources
of disputes between their lovers. The court of honour, consisting of
the marshals of France, an institution which we have seen established
in the reign of Louis XIV, would decline interfering when any of the
parties were not of high birth or distinguished rank. An instance of
this proud distinction occurred in the following case: “An abbé of the
name of D’Aydie had fought with a clerk in the provincial department,
at an opera-dancer’s house, and wounded him. The Duchess de Berry,
daughter of the Regent, immediately ordered that the Abbé d’Aydie
should be deprived of his preferment, and obliged to become a knight of
Malta. The scribe, on recovering from his wound, was constantly seeking
his antagonist, who was compelled to fight him four times, until the
duchess brought the parties before the court of honour, presided over
by Marshal de Chamilly; who, upon hearing of the condition of one of
the parties, exclaimed, ‘What the deuce does he come here for?--a
fellow who calls himself _Bouton_--do you presume to think that we
can be _your_ judges? do you take us for bishops or keepers of the
seals?--and the fellow too dares to call us _my lords_!’”

To understand these punctilious feelings, it must be remembered that
the marshals of France were only called _my lords_ by the nobility,
being considered the judges of the higher orders; and such an
appellation from a _roturier_ was deemed an affront.

This D’Aydie, it should also be known, was the lover of the Duchess de
Berry, who naturally feared that the low-bred clerk might deprive her
of her paramour by an untimely end. The tribunal recommended the Regent
to imprison the lover of his daughter, as a punishment for having
fought a low-born fellow, who, on account of his ignoble condition,
was discharged as beneath their notice. The duchess, however, did
not approve of this finding of the court; but, after procuring the
liberation of her favourite, pursued the unfortunate clerk with such
rancour that she at last got him hanged; thereby exciting, according
to Madame de Crequi, “the horror and the animadversion of all Paris.”
Strange to say, this despicable princess died a month after, on the
very same day that the clerk was hanged: the execution took place on
the 19th of June, and she breathed her last on the 19th of July!

A duel took place between Contades and Brissac, when both were
wounded, in the very conservatories of the palace. After a few days’
concealment, they appeared before the parliament as a mere matter of
form, and Contades was made a marshal of France. Another duel, fought
in open day on the quay of the Tuileries between two noblemen, Jonzac
and Villette, was also passed over with little or no animadversion;
and Duclos, in his Secret Memoirs, asserts that the Regent openly
insinuated that duelling had gone too much out of fashion.

Duelling was not only resorted to by men of the sword, but by men of
finance; and the celebrated Law of Lauriston, who was placed at the
head of this department, had commenced his famed career by several
hostile meetings. Howbeit, he so managed matters as not to compromise
the security of his gambling-house, in the Rue Quincampoix, by
quarrels, although an assassination ultimately exposed this _hell_
to a serious investigation. One of the murderers was a Count Horn, a
Belgian nobleman of distinguished family; but who, notwithstanding the
powerful interest made in his behalf, was sentenced to be broken on
the wheel. The Regent in this case was inflexible, nor would he even
commute the punishment into a less degrading execution. This firmness
was attributed to his partiality for his creature Law, whose bank was
of great assistance to his constant debaucheries. Madame de Crequi, who
was a relative of the criminal, and who exerted her best endeavours
to save him, attributes this murder of what she calls “the Jew who
had robbed him,” to other motives; and asserts that his Highness’s
implacable hostility arose from having once found him with one of
his favourites, the Countess de Parabère; when the duke disdainfully
said to him, “_Sortez, Monsieur!_” to which the other replied, “your
ancestors, sir, would have said _Sortons_!”

Voltaire attributes a similar reply to Chalot, when placed in the same
situation with the Prince de Conti. Madame de Crequi exonerates herself
from the suspicion of having misapplied the repartee, by observing,
“there once lived an old Jew called Solomon, who maintained that there
was nothing new under the sun.”

Madame de Crequi and other writers of the times affirm that duels had
become so frequent that nothing else was heard of, and desolation and
dismay were spread in numerous families. Amongst the victims of this
practice was another lover of Madame de Parabère, and rival of the
Regent, the handsome De Breteuil. It appears that the countess was
unfortunate in her attachments, as many others of her favourites met
with a similar fate.

It has been truly said by historians, that Louis XV. received from the
hands of the Regent a sceptre stained by corruption, and a crown dimmed
by depravity. He found a court composed of libertines, and females of
the most abandoned character. His guides and counsellors were steeped
in vice; and it would have required, perhaps, more than mortal power
to have resisted the pestilential influence of such an atmosphere of
prostitution. The commencement of his reign, however, was marked by
a display of good qualities that obtained for him the flattering
distinction of the Beloved, “the _Bien-aimé_,” an appellation far
more desirable than that of Great, which had been applied to his
predecessor. Little was it then thought that ere long he would show
himself the Sardanapalus of his age.

In the first year of his reign he applied himself to check the practice
of duelling, and issued an edict in which it was provided that any
gentleman who struck another should be degraded from his rank and
forfeit his arms; and he solemnly declared that he would keep most
religiously the coronation oath, by which he had bound himself to
enforce these laws in all their rigour. But, alas for coronation oaths!
they appear to have been in the annals of every nation but too often
mere formal professions.

We find, however, that in pursuance of this resolution, the parliament
of Grenoble condemned to the wheel one of the counsellors for having
killed a captain in the army; but, as the offender had made his escape,
he was only executed in effigy, and the arm of justice fell upon his
unfortunate servant, who was branded and sent to the galleys.

The prince of duellists in these despicable times was the celebrated
Duke de Richelieu, who was certainly ever prompt to give satisfaction
for the injuries he inflicted on the peace of families. During the
regency, and when only twenty years of age, he fought the Count de
Gacé in the street under a lamp; in this night affray both parties
were wounded. Parliament interfered; but the Regent, to screen his
favourite, sent him for a few days to the Bastille.

This worthy, at one time being anxious to fight the Count de Bavière,
set out from Paris with his followers to waylay him on the road from
Chantilly; and, for the furtherance of his project, obstructed and
barricaded the road with his equipages. The parties met, and high words
arose between the coachmen and the servants of both parties, when the
masters stepped out of their carriages and drew their swords. However,
they were separated by the Chevalier d’Auvray, who was lieutenant of
the marshals of France, and whose duties were to prevent all duelling,
and bring offenders before their tribunal.

Such was the case in this instance. All the noble youth of France was
assembled, with their heads uncovered and without their swords, in the
hall of meeting of the Point of Honour; and Richelieu was ordered to
make an ample apology to the Count de Bavière.

This ceremony did not appear to affect the duke very sensibly, as
appeared by his adventure with the Count Albani, nephew of Pope Clement
XI, who was on a visit at the French court, and was most anxious to
become acquainted with the Marquise de Crequi-Blanchefort, a lady not
easy of access. Foiled in various attempts, he consulted Richelieu,
who advised him to disguise himself as a servant, and to wait upon
the marquise in that capacity, with strong letters of recommendation,
which he gave him. So far the scheme succeeded, that Albani was taken
into her service; but soon after he undeceived his supposed mistress
by an avowal of his passion, for which he was forthwith dismissed with
ignominy. Richelieu pretended to be ignorant of the transaction; but,
the share he had had in the disgraceful business being proved, he was
again sent to the Bastille. On his quitting the fortress, the young
Marquis d’Aumont, a relation of the marquise, called him out, and so
severely wounded him in the hip, that at one period his recovery was
despaired of, and it was thought that he would remain a cripple.

In 1734 he fought and killed the Prince de Lixen, although one of
his own relations, while they were both serving at the siege of
Philipsbourg. The cause of this duel is too curious to be omitted, as
the prince had himself killed the Marquis de Ligneville, uncle of his
wife.

The party were at supper at the Prince de Conti’s. Richelieu, who had
been exceedingly fatigued during the day, was very much heated, and
some drops of perspiration were observed on his forehead. The Prince
de Lixen, offended by several of the duke’s witticisms, observed, “that
it was surprising that he did not appear in a more suitable state,
after having been purified by an admission into his family:” Richelieu
having allied himself with the house of Lorraine by marrying the
Princess Elizabeth Sophie, daughter of the Duke de Guise; whereas his
(Richelieu’s) original name was simply Vignerod. Such an insult could
not be tolerated. At midnight they met in the trenches, when De Lixen
fell.

Amongst the other fashionable _roués_ of the day was Du Vighan,
from Xaintonges, whose handsome appearance was so fascinating, that
hackney-coachmen are said to have driven him without a fare, for the
mere pleasure of serving such a _joli garçon_. Another anecdote is
related, of a tailor’s wife, who called upon him for the payment of
four hundred francs, due to her husband; but his attractions were
such, that she left behind her a bill for three hundred. Although
of middling birth, he sought to attract the notice of the King, who
granted him letters of nobility on his appearance. This fortunate youth
was constantly involved in law-suits, wherein he always contrived to
win his cause. So successful was he in all his undertakings, that
the Archbishop of Paris called him “the serpent of the terrestrial
Paradise.” The name he was usually known by was _Le Charmant_; and
Madame de Crequi was obliged to acknowledge that she only mentions him
_qu’à son corps défendant_.

It was of course of the utmost necessity that such a charming gentleman
should be constantly engaged in some duel; and his fascinations seemed
to operate as powerfully on the marshals of France constituting the
court of honour, as on the hearts of the ladies of the court, for he
was invariably acquitted.

His sword, however, was not always as successful as his features and
manners, for he received from the Comte de Meulan a severe wound that
endangered his precious life. On his recovery he had the presumption
to pay his addresses to Mademoiselle de Soissons, a young princess
of great beauty; who became so enamoured of her admirer, that her
aunt was obliged to shut her up in a convent at Montmartre, under the
surveillance of one of the provost’s officers. But bars and locks could
not keep out such a Lothario; and, a letter and a rope-ladder having
been discovered, the lady’s family applied to the Baron d’Ugeon, one of
their relatives and an expert swordsman, to bring the youth to reason.
The challenge was sent and accepted; but the meeting did not take
place, in consequence of the fatal malady of the King, upon whom Du
Vighan attended to the last.

The monarch dead, Du Vighan lost no time in seeking his adversary,
who inflicted two dangerous wounds in his right side. Notwithstanding
the severity of the injury, he contrived to scale the walls of the
abbey of Montmartre to see his beloved princess; but he was obliged
to spend the night under the arches of the cloisters, the young lady
having been shut up. During this painful vigil his wounds broke out
afresh; and the hemorrhage was so profuse, that he was found there a
corpse the following morning. The body was carried home, and a report
spread abroad that he had died of the small-pox, caught from the King
during his attendance on the royal sufferer. Although the princess
grieved pretty nearly unto death, yet she at length consoled herself by
marrying the Prince de Cobourg.

St. Evremont was another celebrated duellist of this period: he had
_discovered_ a particular thrust, which was honoured with his name,
and called _la botte[14] de St. Evremont_. This _brave_ was witty
and capricious, and would accept or refuse a challenge according to
the fancy of the moment. St. Foix was his rival in this pursuit of
an _honourable name_. Some of his duels were remarkable. One day,
at the Café Procope, at dinner-time, he saw a gentleman seated at a
_bavaroise_,[15] and he exclaimed, “That is a confounded bad dinner for
a gentleman!” The stranger, thus insulted, insisted upon satisfaction;
which was granted, when St. Foix was wounded. Notwithstanding this
injury, he coolly said to his antagonist, “If you had killed me, sir,
I still should have persisted in maintaining that a _bavaroise_ is a
confounded bad dinner.”

Another time he asked a gentleman, whose aroma was not of the most
pleasant nature, “why the devil he smelt so confoundedly?” The offended
party sent him a challenge, which St. Foix refused in the following
terms: “Were you to kill me, you would not smell the less; and were
I to kill you, you would smell a great deal more!” One day, meeting
a lawyer whose countenance did not please him, he walked up to him,
and whispered in his ear, “Sir, I have some business with you.” The
attorney, not understanding the drift of his speech, quietly named an
hour when he would find him in his office. The meeting was of course
most amusing; the expression of St Foix being, “that he wanted to have
an _affaire_ with him,” a term which is equally applicable to a duel
and a legal transaction.

About this period a curious quarrel arose between two gentlemen of the
names of Bricqueville and La Maugerie, about the sale of a house: the
affair commenced with kicks and cuffs, and was terminated with sword
and pistol. The finding of the Constabular court was remarkable:
declaring Bricqueville guilty of having _excédé_ La Maugerie with
various sword-wounds, fining him in the sum of one hundred francs, and
fixing the costs at thirty-six thousand; condemning him, moreover, to
live at a distance of not less than thirty leagues from the town of St.
Lo for a period of twenty years. This law-suit lasted four years!

Such was the state of duelling during this disgusting reign and
its preceding regency: one might fancy that the putrid malady that
terminated the inglorious existence of the monarch was typical of the
corruption of his government and his degraded minions; his putrescent
remains, which repelled the courtier from the regal bier, were
emblematic of his court. It was this reign that in a great measure
paved the fearful high-road to the French revolution. It has been truly
observed by a late writer, that, in France, glory alone can reconcile
the nation to tyranny. This has been fully proved during the reigns
of the fourteenth Louis and Napoleon: the yoke of the great French
monarch had been oppressive and galling, but it had been padded with
laurel leaves; the yoke of his successor was comparatively light, yet
it seemed of iron, and the people winced under its fretting sway. The
nation forgave their warlike sovereign when he said, “I am the state;”
nay, the insulting expression flattered their crouching vanity: but
when a despicable tutor told his grandson, “Sire, this people is your
property!” the Bastille was undermined, and the Louvre doomed to be
overthrown. A voluptuous prince, who sleeps confidingly on his downy
couch, may be convinced that the people are awake on their bed of
straw; the luxurious comfort of the eider-down should never make him
forget that thousands are sleepless on a miserable pallet: sooner or
later the crown must be abdicated when a court becomes the type of
corruption, and the diadem will be picked up by the iron hand of a
soldier, after having been borne for a short while in triumph by the
mob.

Such were the destinies of France, destinies which still influence
the world. If corruption destroys, it will also create; and it is
in general during the effervescence of a nation that individuals of
gigantic powers arise upon the surface from the fermenting mass. I
cannot better describe the rise of some of the most extraordinary
characters of the period alluded to, than in the words of a late writer.

“The first figure that appears, and dominates over the century, was
Voltaire. He was the literary monarch of his times, and held at Ferney
an European court: he corresponded with various sovereigns, and
exchanged with them the incense of flattery in return for more solid
gifts; for there is no doubt that Voltaire received from crowned heads
a more substantial reward of his services than their fulsome praise.

“The weapons of Rousseau, his rival, were more logical; his were
sarcastic,--an arm less dignified, but the most powerful in France.
Rousseau was admired, Voltaire produced enthusiasm: the one addressed
the understanding, the other spoke to the passions. The one fenced
dexterously with a sword, the other stabbed the social body with his
dagger. The Genevese Heraclitus, although far more eloquent, was much
less popular than the Democritus of Ferney. Vain, frivolous, vicious,
and immoral; cynical in his countenance, essentially a mocker and a
scoffer, faithless in controversy, violent in polemical discussion,
vindictive and implacable, yet the flatterer of power, abject and
crouching at the footstool of kings, their favourites, and their
mistresses, and ever courting aristocratic distinction and drawing-room
favours: Voltaire was, in short, the personification of his time.

“Rousseau, more austere, was gathered up in the dignity of the man and
the philosopher. His logic was inflexible, and he carried it to its
utmost limits. Rigorous and absolute in principle, he not unfrequently
wandered in the exaggeration of results, and boldly laid down theories
without duly considering how far they might prove practicable. In
politics be appeared rarely to have contemplated the present; but his
eagle-eye sought to pierce into futurity, and gaze upon the splendour
of a republican democracy.

“Rousseau prepared a political reform. Voltaire operated a revolution
in religion, attacking its influence with insult and mockery.
Philosophy, handled by him, became sophistical and narrow; but
nevertheless, as Chateaubriand observes, it disengaged Christianity
from its trammels, to restore it ultimately to all its purity.”

While thus endeavouring to accelerate a reform in the social order,
Rousseau was most energetic in denouncing the practice of duelling; and
the following are his memorable remarks on the subject:

“Beware how you confound the sacred name of honour with that ferocious
prejudice which places virtue on the sword’s point, and which is only
calculated to make brave ruffians.

“And what constitutes this prejudice?--the most extravagant and
barbarous idea that ever entered the human mind; fancying that all
social duties will find a substitute in valour; that a man ceases to
be a rogue, a cheat, a slanderer, and becomes civilized, humane, and
polite, when he knows how to fight! that falsehood becomes truth,
theft legitimate, treachery and perfidiousness praiseworthy, so soon
as he can maintain these qualities sword in hand! that an insult is
wiped away by the wound of a sword, and that you can never be in the
wrong when you have killed your adversary! There does exist, I admit, a
sort of affair in which politeness is combined with cruelty, and where
people only kill each other by chance; and this is when men fight for
the _first blood_. The first blood! good God! And what dost thou want
with this blood, ferocious beast? dost thou want to drink it?

“The bravest men of antiquity never thought of avenging injuries by
single combat. Did Cæsar send a challenge to Cato, or Pompey to Cæsar,
after the repeated affronts that they both had received? Was the
greatest captain of Greece dishonoured when struck with a staff?

“The upright man, whose life has been spotless, and who never betrayed
any symptoms of cowardice, will ever refuse to soil his hand by
homicide, and will not be the less honoured. Ever prompt to serve his
country, and to afford protection to the weak; to fulfill the most
perilous duties, and to defend at the price of his blood everything
that is just, honest, and dear to him; he will display in every act of
his life that unshaken fortitude which is ever the attribute of true
courage. Secure in the consciousness of his integrity, he will step out
with head erect, and neither seek nor shun an enemy: he fears death
much less than a foul deed, and dreads a crime more than danger. If
vile prejudices assail him for a time, every day of his honourable life
is a witness to defend him, when all his actions are judged by each
other.

“Those captious persons who are so ready to provoke others are in
general dishonest men, who, under the apprehension that they will meet
with the contempt they deserve, endeavour to shield by an affair of
honour the infamy of their entire life.

“Such a man will make a single effort, and face the world _once_,
that he may remain concealed for the _remainder of his days_. True
courage possesses more constancy and less anxiety. It is ever what it
should be, and requires neither excitement nor restraint. The upright
man never moves without it,--in battle with the enemy, in society,
in advocating the cause of the absent and of truth; on his couch, in
bearing with fortitude the attacks of pain and of death. The strength
of mind that inspires this quality belongs to every age; and, ever
placing virtue above worldly wants, it seeks not the combat, but it
dreads no danger.”

In this moral revolution the strangest event was, to behold those
whom it was most likely to affect becoming powerful auxiliaries to the
contemplated reforms, reforms in which they were doomed to perish.
Still they rushed like men stricken with blindness into a new order of
things,--a new state of society; tired of the old one, and, from having
been sceptical in their sensuality, became sceptical in ideas and in
doctrines, until the ruinous ancient social fabric crumbled over their
devoted heads.

The emancipation from slavery and oppression should be gradual. A
sudden freedom maddens, as a sudden restoration of sight will dazzle
and blind again. Liberty thus conferred has been justly compared to
weapons that recoil upon those who wield them. In the mouth of some of
these innovators, sophistry extenuated crimes; and Helvetius maintained
“that every act was legitimate to ensure public safety.” To which
Rousseau replied, “that public safety was not worth considering, when
individual security could not be obtained.”

While such opinions were promulgated by philosophers, what were the
ideas of honour that prevailed at Versailles and the Tuileries? In
abject submission to an abject master, they were comformable to those
entertained by the royal cook Vatel, who destroyed himself because the
fish had not arrived in time for his sovereign’s dinner; a catastrophe
which was admirably described by Berchoux in the following lines:

    Tout le soin des festins fût remis à Vatel,
    Du vainqueur de Rocroy fameux maitre d’hôtel.
    Il mit à ses travaux une ardeur infinie,
    Mais, avec des talents, il manquait de génie.
    Accablé d’embarras, Vatel est averti
    Que deux tables en vain réclamaient leur rôti;
    Il prend pour en trouver une peine inutile.
    “Ah!” dit-il, s’adressant à son ami Gourville,
    De larmes, de sanglots, de douleur suffoqué,
    “_Je suis perdu d’honneur_, deux rôtis ont manqués!
    Un seul jour détruira toute ma renommée.
    Mes lauriers sont flétris; et la cour, alarmée,
    Ne peut plus désormais se reposer sur moi:
    J’ai trahi mon devoir, avili mon emploi!”

           *       *       *       *       *

    O vous, qui par état présidez aux repas,
    Donnez lui des regrets, mais ne l’imitez pas.

Can we indeed be surprised at the indignation which must have fired
every liberal bosom when beholding, not only the insolence of the
aristocracy, but the vices of sovereigns and the crimes of ministers,
becoming subjects of general admiration, and even eulogised in the
pulpit?--when a prelate like Fléchier declared in his funeral oration
on Cardinal Richelieu, that God had bestowed upon his soul those
excellent gifts that fitted him to rule the world, and bring into
action those secret springs which he ordained to elevate or overthrow,
in his eternal decrees, the power of kings and kingdoms! The same
eloquent declaimer, in quoting the virtues of Mazarin, tells his
congregation that he had taught the art of governing, and the secrets
of royalty, to the first monarch in the world! Can we wonder then,
that, living under such a celestial sway, a cook should commit suicide
when unable “to set a dainty dish” before his King?




CHAPTER XII.

DUELS DURING THE REIGN OF LOUIS XVI.


It has been truly said, that the virtues of the unfortunate Louis
XVI. were an anachronism in the dissolute court that surrounded him.
The most short-sighted observer could behold the gathering storm,
and foresee that a national convulsion was drawing nigh. In taking a
retrospective view of the past, no confidence could be placed in the
present, and futurity was involved in a fearful gloom. Despotism had
been concentrated under the sway of Louis XI. and Louis XIV; but,
during the reign of Louis XV, the parliament had recovered the power
usurped by his predecessor, who let no opportunity escape of showing
for that assembly, his sovereign contempt. A struggle for power now
commenced between the parliament, the clergy, and the court; and the
people, exhausted by war and taxation, calmly looked on, until they
were roused by the contending factions to throw the weight of brute
force into the scale of the doubtful preponderance. At this period,
pregnant with future events of vital moment, the parliament persecuted
the clergy, which in turn opposed their vexations; and both parties
set at defiance the authority of the court, which appeared to be sunk
into a state of luxurious apathy, and calmly looked on the approaching
storm, without having recourse to any prudential measures to meet its
impetuosity.

While the country was thus torn by discord, no harmony prevailed in
the palace. The monarch had selected a minister who could not agree
with his consort, and opposed all his measures, until Turgot succeeded
him. Turgot, a virtuous upright man, endeavoured to operate a reform,
but all parties who had thriven on corruption soon drove him from the
helm of public affairs. Necker sought to pursue the reform that his
predecessor had planned, and for a moment seemed to inspire confidence,
until the upper classes, uniting their efforts against him, compelled
the unwelcome speculator to resign his post; and, finally, the active
enterprising Calonne, failed in re-organizing the wreck of the empire.

To use the language of a French writer, “Louis XVI. was not
sufficiently understood by the nation, but was too well understood by
the court.” Thus he was exposed at the same time to popular prejudices
against him and to patrician hostility, and rendered answerable for
the errors of his predecessors. An apparent calm reigned in the
nation, but it was that gloomy sultry tranquillity that precedes a
storm. The mind of every class of the community was too deeply absorbed
in reflection to admit of the influence of private differences. The
practice of duelling, meanwhile, seemed to be confined to the soldiery.
The sword was no longer worn as a mark of distinction in society; and
this weapon of a gentleman, which in former times was always at hand,
and drawn on the spur of the moment, was now laid aside, and only
sought for with premeditation.

This pacific period was of short duration. The pales which had divided
society into castes were gradually overthrown, and rank no longer
became an excuse for refusing satisfaction to an inferior.

One of the first affairs of honour under this monarch was the
celebrated duel that took place between the Comte d’Artois[16] and the
Prince de Condé. At a ball given at the Opera on Shrove Tuesday in
the year 1778, the Comte d’Artois appeared, giving his arm to Madame
de Carrillac,--both masked. The Duchesse de Bourbon (Princess of
Orleans) recognised them, and followed them, addressing the parties
in a sarcastic style, which, although warranted by the usages of a
masquerade, were not the less offensive. The hostile feelings of
the duchess were attributed to two most powerful motives. Madame
de Carrillac had been the mistress of her husband, whom she had
quitted for the Comte d’Artois, to whom the duchess herself was
not indifferent. Madame de Carrillac, thus annoyed by the duchess,
contrived to effect her escape through the crowd; when the duchess with
unbridled fury endeavoured to tear off the mask from the count, who,
forgetting at the moment his usual gallantry and the privileges of the
fair sex, crushed the mask of the duchess on her face, and rushed out
of the ball-room.

This adventure was hushed up for a few days, when the duchess stated to
her numerous guests at her supper-table that the conduct of the Comte
d’Artois had been that of a ruffian, and that she had felt disposed at
the time to call in the guard to apprehend him. All the women at court
whom the count had slighted, rose up in arms against him, the brutality
of his conduct became the subject of conversation in every circle, and
the general opinion was, that he could not avail himself of his rank to
refuse the satisfaction that such a public insult to a woman demanded.
It was of course concluded that it became indispensable on the part of
the Duke de Bourbon to call out the offender.

Howbeit, the King ordered the Duke and Duchess de Bourbon to attend him
in his closet, where they met the Count d’Artois; when he commanded
that no notice should be taken by any of the parties of what had
occurred. The duke wished to enter into some explanation, but was
instantly silenced by the monarch.

This decision did not satisfy the duchess and the ladies of the court.
The Baron de Besenval was sent for by the Queen, who asked him what
her brother was to do under existing circumstances: the baron replied
that he saw no other alternative than a duel; to which Marie Antoinette
replied, “I am of the same opinion, and the King agrees with me; but do
you think that my brother will adopt this course?” Besenval replied,
“that the count was ignorant of all that was said on the subject; but
that he should consider it his duty to make him acquainted with the
public opinion, as he would rather see him dead than dishonoured;”
adding, “that, as it was an affair of great moment, he would previously
consult with De Crussel, captain of the prince’s guards.” “Do so,”
replied the Queen, “and settle this affair between you.”

Besenval having met De Crussel at the Comte Jules de Polignac’s, it was
decided that a meeting should take place; it being at the same time
proposed, that, so soon as swords were drawn and crossed, De Crussel
should produce an order from the King to separate the combatants. With
this suggestion Besenval would not comply, justly observing, “Pray,
gentlemen, are you going to make the prince play in a farce? I never
will consent to such an arrangement;” to which De Crussel replied,
“that it was quite sufficient for the prince to go to the ground, and
that the sovereign had then the right to prevent bloodshed.” This
opinion was also that of Polignac and Vaudreuil, who were present.

Besenval lost no time in seeking for the Comte d’Artois, to acquaint
him with all that had taken place, when a meeting was decided. The
following day the count went to the Bois de Boulogne, attended by
De Crussel, who had placed the prince’s best sword in the carriage.
Arrived at the wood, they perceived the Duke de Bourbon surrounded with
several gentlemen: upon seeing him the count alighted, and stepping
towards him said, “I understand, sir, that the public say that we are
seeking each other?” to which the duke replied, taking off his hat,
“I am here, sir, to receive your commands:” to which polite reply the
count answered, “I am here, sir, to fulfil yours.”

After this courteous preamble both parties drew their swords; when the
duke observed, “You are not aware, sir, that the sun shines full upon
you.” “You are right,” answered the count; “we had better proceed to
that wall, where we shall find more shade than under these leafless
trees.”

The parties then placed their drawn swords under their arms, and
proceeded, conversing with each other, to the appointed spot, followed
by their two seconds, all other persons keeping at a distance. M. de
Vibraye, second of the duke, observing that they had both kept on
their spurs, which might prove inconvenient, the seconds immediately
proceeded to unbuckle them; and, while so doing, De Vibraye had an eye
nearly put out by the point of the duke’s sword. The spurs being off,
the duke asked the prince’s permission to take off his coat; to which
proposal the Comte d’Artois not only acceded; but threw off his own.

Several lounges had passed between the parties, and D’Artois was
evidently becoming impatient and flushed, when the duke was observed
to stagger; and the seconds, thinking that he had been wounded,
interfered, and begged the parties to suspend all further hostility.
The count replied, “It is not for me to offer any opinion; it is for
M. le Duc de Bourbon to express his wishes, I am here at his orders.”
The duke immediately lowered his sword, and replied, “I feel penetrated
with gratitude at your kindness, and shall never forget the honour that
you have conferred on me.” The Comte d’Artois then opened his arms, and
the duke flew into his embrace.

After this harmless meeting, at the suggestion of the Queen and the
Baron de Besenval, the count repaired to the Palais Bourbon, and made
an ample apology to the insulted duchess. The punishment awarded to
the combatants was an exile of a week; the count at Choisy, and the
duke at Chantilly. Thus ended this celebrated duel, which has been
much misrepresented by different writers, influenced by party spirit.
There is no doubt that, in the whole transaction, the Comte d’Artois
behaved with becoming firmness and gentlemanly feeling: and there is
not the least foundation for the story of a bloodless meeting having
been pre-arranged, although it is not improbable that the Duke de
Bourbon was satisfied in defending himself, without a wish of injuring
his antagonist; which was the more easy, as he remained cool, while the
count was evidently excited.

This transaction affords a vivid picture of the corruption and manners
of the times. A woman of the highest rank insults another woman who had
been her husband’s mistress; not on that account, but for having become
the mistress of another man, to whom she herself was attached: and the
foolish husband is made to peril life and liberty by fighting the real
object of the dispute, who had so far lost sight of all gentlemanly
deportment as to insult a female by actually inflicting a blow!

The Prince de Condé, father of this Duke de Bourbon, had also had a
hostile meeting with the Vicomte d’Agout, a captain in the Guards. This
officer had been paying court to a young widow of the household of the
Princess de Condé, and had promised to marry her: having, however,
discovered that she had bestowed her favours on the prince, he bitterly
reproached her with her duplicity, and retracted his engagement. The
lady complained to her protector, who directed that D’Agout should
resign his situation of captain in his Guards. That officer immediately
tendered his resignation into the prince’s hands, and at the same time
requested to know what part of his conduct had exposed him to disgrace.
To this request the prince replied, “that he would not keep in his
service liars and calumniators:” to this severe observation D’Agout
answered, “Your highness is aware that, when I took the liberty of
putting this question, I was no longer in your highness’s service, and
will be pleased also to recollect that I am a gentleman.” “I understand
you, sir,” replied the prince; “and am ready to maintain what I have
asserted, in whatever manner you may think proper.”

“Then,” replied D’Agout, “I depend upon your highness’s kindness;” and
he lost no time in repairing to Versailles to secure some protection in
the event of a fatal result. Having succeeded, he presented himself at
the carriage-window of the prince, who was changing horses at Sèvres,
and said to him, “My lord, I came to receive your highness’s orders.”
“Then, sir,” answered the prince, “at nine o’clock to-morrow morning
I shall be at the entrance of the Bois de Boulogne, near the Maillot
gate.”

D’Agout, as might be expected, was punctual in his attendance,
accompanied by his brother. The prince soon after made his appearance,
and first placed in the hands of his adversary a declaration of his
having been the aggressor, with letters of recommendation to foreign
powers for protection, in the event of a fatal issue of the meeting,
which might render his quitting the kingdom advisable.

D’Agout, having returned his grateful thanks for this courteous
proceeding, then threw off his coat; on which the prince observed, “No
doubt, sir, by taking off your coat, you expect that I should do the
same.” To which D’Agout replied, “I have no right to demand anything
from your highness, as I trust implicitly in your honour, and was only
anxious to afford your highness a proof of mine.”

The prince immediately took off his coat, and swords were soon crossed.
The offended captain fought with that desperate determination which his
critical position inspired, and the prince was slightly wounded; when
the seconds interfered, and parted the combatants. A short time after
this meeting, D’Agout was promoted by the prince to the rank of major
in the Guards. The King, on this occasion, scarcely knew how to act:
but the people viewed the duel, between a prince of the blood and an
individual of an humble rank, as a sign of the times, and the sacrifice
of olden prejudices to the novel innovations in manners that gradually
appeared to level all distinctions; while the chivalric portion of the
nation compared the Prince de Condé to Francis I.

It was during this reign, and the latter part of the preceding one,
that the singular personage, Le Chevalier d’Eon, made his appearance.
He was born at Tonnerre in 1728; and had been successively a lawyer, a
censor, a political writer, a captain of dragoons, a diplomatist, and
a fencing-master. It was under the cloak of the last profession, when
giving lessons of fencing to the Grand Duke of Russia, that he was
entrusted with a secret and delicate mission; which he fulfilled with
so much success, that he obtained the title of secretary of embassy,
the rank of captain, and the cross of St. Louis. He was subsequently
sent to England as minister plenipotentiary, to ratify the treaty of
1763.

This D’Eon was most expert in all deeds of arms, and had fought several
duels, in which he always came off successfully. When attached to the
French legation in London, he thought proper to give his ambassador,
the Count de Guerchy, a slap in the face; and, on complaint being made
to the cabinet of Versailles of this desperate conduct, it was decided
that he should be seized, and carried over to France. D’Eon, however,
being apprised of this project, sought refuge in the city; where he
was taken up for a breach of the peace, having fought with another
Frenchman of the name of Vergy, in the open street and at noon-day.

The circumstance which gave rise to the report that he was a woman,
was singular; and originated from a thrust he received in the breast
from a foil while fencing: a mammary tumour arose, which required
extirpation, and it was immediately reported that D’Eon was a female in
disguise. This report gained credence from his affected indifference in
removing the erroneous impression, and his repeated refusal to give a
satisfactory reply to questions put to him on this doubtful subject.

Various are the reported motives of his subsequent assumption of female
sex and attire. By some it was attributed to an order from the Duc
d’Aiguillon, minister of foreign affairs, prohibiting his appearance
in France except in a female dress; while D’Eon pretended that he had
assumed this costume to preserve the honour of De Guerchy, whose face
he had slapped. Others asserted that he wore this disguise to enable
the cabinet of Versailles to throw the blame attached to the treaty of
1763 on a woman. Howbeit, he only made his appearance in France after
the deaths both of D’Aiguillon and Guerchy; and on his return to Paris
presented a memorial to Maurepas the then minister, praying that the
order which enjoined him to wear female attire might be revoked, and
the following was the strange tenor of this application:

“I am under the necessity of humbly submitting to your lordship that
the period of my female noviciate is expired, and that it is impossible
that I should become as professed. I have been able, in obedience to
the orders of the late King and his ministers, to remain in petticoats
during peace; but that is quite out of the question in time of war. It
is necessary for the honour of the illustrious house of De Guerchy that
I should be allowed to continue my military services; such, at least,
is the opinion of the whole army and the world. I have always thought
and acted like Achilles; I never wage war with the dead, and I only
kill the living when they attack me.”

The Count de Guerchy, whom he had mortally insulted, was dead; but
his only son was living, and anxious to wipe off in D’Eon’s blood the
unavenged insult offered to his family; when the countess his mother,
justly apprehensive of the issue of a meeting between the young count
and the most experienced swordsman in the country, supplicated the
minister to exert his influence and reject the application of the
dubious D’Eon. The injunction to wear a female garb was renewed; and
the pension of five hundred pounds per annum, granted to him by Louis
XV, was continued on this condition. This strange position exposed our
disguised hero to many curious scenes and insults; and, having one day
involved himself in a serious quarrel at the play-house, he was sent a
close prisoner to the citadel of Dijon.

At the revolution of 1789 D’Eon returned to England, where he gave
lessons in the sword exercise; and on several occasions fenced
in public, and not unfrequently with the Prince of Wales. This
extraordinary person died in London in 1810, at the advanced age of
seventy-nine; when the celebrated medical friar and favourite of
Carlton House, Père Elysée, after a _post-mortem_ examination, put the
mooted question beyond further doubt by the official assertion of the
manhood of the defunct.

The rival of the Chevalier d’Eon, both in swordsmanship and fashionable
popularity, was the Chevalier St. George, a man of colour, son of M. de
Boulogne, a receiver-general of Guadaloupe, and a negress; and who at
an early age was placed in the hands of La Boissière, the celebrated
fencing-master. His skill in arms and his numerous duels rendered
him such a favourite amongst the ladies, that his dark complexion and
woolly head were forgotten. He was soon appointed equerry to Madame
de Montesson, whom the Duke of Orleans had privately married; and
then captain in the guards of his son, the Duke de Chartres. In 1776
he was anxious to become manager of the Opera; but the actresses and
dancers, headed by Mesdemoiselles Arnould, Guimart, and Rosalie,
supplicated the Queen not to degrade the dignity of the Royal Academy
of Music by placing it under the direction of a mulatto. The Queen
yielded to their supplication; and St. George felt so much offended at
this interference, that it was to a vindictive feeling against that
unfortunate princess that his exertions in the revolution against the
royal family were attributed. He was foremost in the popular meetings
of that period, and was sent to the emigrants at Tournai on a secret
mission by the Duke d’Orleans; a service of considerable danger, and
one in which he would have forfeited his life but for the governor of
the town, who enabled him to effect his escape. After this he raised a
regiment of light cavalry, which he commanded under Dumouriez, whom he
afterwards denounced to the Convention. Notwithstanding his jacobinical
exertions, he would have been sacrificed in his turn, but for the 9th
Thermidor, which liberated him from prison. St. George died in a state
of poverty in 1799, at the age of fifty-four. He was justly considered
the first swordsman and the best shot of his time. One of his feats
was throwing up two crown-pieces in the air, and hitting them both
with his pistols. He was an excellent musician, amiable and polished
in his manners, and of a most agreeable conversation; his humanity and
charitable disposition were universally acknowledged; and, although
engaged in many duels, he had generally been the insulted party, and
was never known to avail himself of his reputation to insult any
one less skilled in the science of destruction. He was often known,
however, to give a salutary lesson to quarrelsome and troublesome young
men; and an instance is recorded of his meeting at Dunkirk in the
company of several ladies a young officer of hussars, who, not knowing
him, was boasting of his skill as a swordsman, and asserting that no
fencer in France was a match for him. “Did you ever meet the famous
St. George?” asked one of the ladies. “St. George! many a time; he
could not stand a moment before me!” answered the hussar, twirling his
mustachios. “That is strange,” observed St. George, “and I should much
like to have a trial of skill with you, young man. Possibly the ladies
could procure us foils, and an _assaut d’armes_ might entertain them.”
The young officer assented to the proposal with a smile of contempt:
foils belonging to the brother of the lady of the house were produced,
and without hesitation the hussar was preparing to shame his aged
antagonist, who, politely addressing the ladies, asked them to name
the buttons he should touch on his adversary’s doliman. The delighted
women, glad to see a coxcomb corrected, named the number of the
buttons; which St. George touched one after the other, and then whipped
the foil out of the inexperienced hand of the boaster, who, infuriated
by rage and shame, wanted immediate satisfaction; when St. George
quietly observed, “Young man, your time is not yet come, you may still
live to serve your country; but recollect you have met St. George, for
I am that very person who could not at any time prove a match for you.”
The lesson was a severe one: the young officer, confused and concealing
his offended vanity, withdrew, and never after visited at the house.

The efforts of the sovereign to reform the court, and maintain at least
an appearance of propriety and good order, were more or less successful
in repressing the ostentation of vice that had but lately polluted it:
but the dissatisfied _roués_ of the day sought in the orgies of the
Palais Royal another scene for their dissipation and excesses; where,
to use the expression of a modern writer, “vice became principle, and
corruption a system.”

As the crusades had shed their influence on European society, operating
a surprising change in its manners and ideas; so did the war of
independence in the United States produce a material alteration in the
French court. Several noblemen had honourably served in the armies
of America, and returned home with enthusiastic notions of liberty
and independence. Such was the Duc de Lauzun, a nobleman of elegant
manners, and as celebrated for his duels as his _bonnes fortunes_.

De Tilly, surnamed “_Le beau De Tilly_,” was another celebrated
character of that period, and in his Memoirs we find the following
observations on the practice of duelling:

“France is the birth-place of duelling. I have roved over a great
part of Europe, and travelled in the New World; I have lived with
soldiers and courtiers; and nowhere else have I met with this fatal
_susceptibility_, which is incessantly creating affronts, injuries,
and provocations. Whence arises this disposition, so peculiar to the
French, whose character is too noble to become vindictive, and which
induces them to fight a duel in matters that are chiefly frivolous? It
is education, and that only.

“You have had a discussion with an intimate friend; although it may not
have exceeded the limits of an excusable warmth, women have observed
in it _injurious shades_; and you would rather expose yourself to kill
your friend, or be killed by him, than to the mere suspicion, on the
part of woman, of being deficient in courage.

“At a gambling-table a misunderstanding arises; a by-stander has smiled
ironically; he has whispered to his sister, who has whispered something
to her cousin: get yourself killed by all means, for you may have been
suspected of cheating at play; and nothing can set such a question in a
proper light but the thrust of a sword!

“Your wife is an acknowledged coquette; get yourself run through the
body by her lover, and her honour will be restored. You yourself may
have seduced the wife of an honest man, who dares to suspect you, and
receives you with ill-humour: kill him; for, having deprived him of
happiness and peace, you need not be punctilious in ridding him of
life!”

This opinion of the character of the French and their notions of honour
has been since amply illustrated by Chateaubriand in the following
terms: “The first-born of antiquity, the French, Romans in genius,
are Greeks in their character. Restless and volatile in prosperity,
constant and invincible in adversity. Created for the cultivation of
every art; civilised to excess during the calm days of the state,
coarse and savage in political troubles. Tossed to and fro by their
passions, like a vessel without ballast on the waves, now ascending
to the skies, and then sinking in an abyss. Equally enthusiastic in
good and in evil; kind without expecting gratitude, cruel without
experiencing remorse, and quickly forgetting both their vices and their
virtues. Attached to life in days of peace with pusillanimity, they
are prodigal of their blood in the hour of battle. Vain, sarcastic,
ambitious, they are at the same time mechanical followers of routine
and innovators; despising everything but themselves. Individually the
most agreeable of men, collectively the most unpleasant. Delightful
in their own country, insupportable abroad. At times, more mild and
innocent than the lamb they slaughter; at others, more pitiless and
ferocious than the devouring tiger. Such were the Athenians of old, and
such are now the French.”

Duels now sometimes assumed a humorous character; and men fought for
songs, puns, and conundrums. The poet Champeneti got wounded for
verses that he had not written; and Cagliostro, being called out by
a physician whom he had styled a quack, on the plea that a medical
question should be settled medicinally, proposed that the parties
should swallow two pills, the one poisonous and the other innocuous.

An anecdote is related of a young man from the country, who was
ridiculed for his awkward mode of dancing, and who replied, “If I dance
badly, I know how to fight.” To which it was coolly rejoined, “Then,
for the future, you had better fight, and never dance!”

Such were the reckless feelings of the time, that a certain Marquis de
Tenteniac, from Britanny, actually challenged the pit of a theatre.
Being behind the scenes, he had appeared so forward in one of the
wings, that the public rebuked him; when he immediately stepped forward
to the footlights, and, addressing the audience, said, “Ladies and
gentlemen, with your permission a piece will be performed to-morrow,
called ‘The Insolence of the Pit chastised,’ in as many acts as may
be desired, by the Marquis de Tenteniac!” This impudent address was
received with great applause, and no one individual thought proper to
resent a general insult.

While duels were thus discountenanced amongst civilians, it was also
endeavoured to check them in the army. The ill-fated Marshal Ney, Duke
of Elchingen, judicially assassinated in Paris at the period of the
Restoration, was an example of the severe measures resorted to, to
punish offenders. Ney, who was born at Sarrelouis in 1769, enlisted,
in the year 1787, in the regiment “de Colonel Général,” afterwards the
Fourth Hussars. He was remarkable for his soldier-like appearance, his
dexterity in his exercises, and his skilful horsemanship, in which he
frequently broke in horses that the rough-riders could not manage.
He was also considered the best swordsman in the corps; and on him
frequently devolved the perilous task of fighting the regimental
battles. The fencing-master of the Chasseurs de Vintimille, then in the
same garrison with his regiment,--a desperate duellist, who had wounded
the fencing-master of Ney’s regiment,--having insulted the corps, it
was decided that the bravest and the most dexterous dragoon should be
selected to chastise him. The choice fell upon Ney. The parties met,
sabres were drawn, when Ney felt himself dragged back by the tail: it
was his colonel who had thus seized him, and had him immediately thrown
into the black-hole.

Duelling was at this period punished with death. Ney’s life was
perilled, but, beloved both by officers and men, the corps insisted
upon his liberation; and the times were such, that their application
could not well have been rejected. Ney was liberated, but the first
use he made of his freedom was to seek his antagonist and renew the
interrupted contest. The parties met secretly, and the bragging
fencing-master received a sabre-wound in the sword-arm that crippled
him for life. When Ney subsequently rose in rank and fortune, he sought
his former antagonist, and settled on him a handsome annuity.

A most vindictive duel was fought at this period by a colonel of the
French Guards. This gentleman was boasting of the good fortune of
never having been obliged to fight a duel. Another officer present
expressed his surprise, with some indirect allusions to his want of
courage; observing, “How could you avoid fighting when insulted?” The
colonel replied, “that he never had given offence, and that no one
had ever presumed to insult him. Moreover, that on such an occasion
he would consider the character of the person who had wantonly
insulted him, ere he demanded satisfaction.” Upon this statement,
his interlocutor, in the most insolent manner, struck him in the
face with his glove, adding, “Perhaps, sir, you will not consider
this an insult!” The colonel calmly put on his hat, and walked out
of the room. The following morning, however, he sent a challenge
to his aggressor. When they came to the ground, the colonel wore a
patch of court-plaister, of the size of a crown-piece, on the cheek
which had received the blow. At the very first lounge he wounded his
antagonist in the sword-arm; when, taking off the plaister, he cut
off an edge of it with a pair of scissors, and, replacing it on his
face, took his leave of his adversary, very politely requesting he
would do him the honour of letting him know when he recovered from
his wound. So soon as he heard that he was able to hold a sword, he
called him out and wounded him a second time; cutting off another
portion of the patch. In a like manner he called him out, fought, and
wounded him, until the plaister was reduced to the size of a shilling;
when he again challenged him, and ran him through the body: then,
calmly contemplating the corpse, he observed, “I now may take off my
plaister!” This was a cruel, but a well-merited chastisement inflicted
on an insolent braggart, who little knew, at the time he thus wantonly
insulted this officer, he was addressing one of the most dexterous
swordsmen in the land.

During the early part of the reign of Louis XVI. society continued
under the sway of former prejudices and a false notion of honour, which
made it consist in upholding a character for courage, gallantry, and
successful intrigue. It soon assumed another feature; and patriotism,
and self-devotion in the cause of liberty and independence, became the
source of many quarrels and bitter recriminations.

The last duel of any notoriety at this period was one fought by the
Comte de Tilly, and for which he was apprehended by order of the
_connétablie_ and court of honour, presided over so late as 1788 by the
Duke de Richelieu; which sentenced him to imprisonment in the Abbaye,
whence he was liberated after a confinement of three months. This court
no longer bore the reputation of a fair bench, capable of deciding
the knotty point of honour; but, like all other institutions, had
become inert, and corrupted to such a degree, that De Tilly gives the
following account of its nature:

“This court is a real inquisition, to which the nobility of France
submitted under the specious and proud pretext of being tried by their
peers; an office essentially military, but which had degenerated into
a judicial and civil court, where abuses were most notorious. Most of
these nobles, debilitated by age and infirmities, sought to grasp, at
the end of their career, a distinguished palm, which their feeble hands
would soon be compelled to relinquish. Without any previous study of
law or justice, their innate honour and chivalric loyalty were not
a sufficient beacon to direct their course. Difficult points were
elucidated by pedantic lawyers,--the natural enemies of the nobility,
and strangers, from education and from principle, to the nature of
the duties assigned to them: then came a host of subordinate agents,
who effectually closed the gates of this tribunal until opened by a
golden key. Favours and accusations were bought and sold, as were
the statements that exonerated, or the evidences that condemned: in
short, they were a band of mercenaries, who throve upon gall, extorted
presents, robbery, and rapine.”

Such was the corrupt state of the most noble tribunal in the land,
presided over by the depraved Richelieu,--a slur upon the nobility,
and a disgrace to his king and country.

At the commencement of the Revolution duels were not deemed necessary,
and every orator considered that his life belonged to the country.
Mirabeau, who in his early days had shown frequent proofs of personal
courage, no longer conceived that his honour was at stake when insulted
by infuriate orators; and, although he had fought several desperate
duels, was accused of cowardice by his enemies. When parliamentary
decorum was lost sight of in stormy debates, the offending speaker was
committed to prison. A duel between Charles de Lameth and De Castries,
although the subject of it had not arisen in a public debate, was
looked upon as an uncommon occurrence, and the populace burnt down
the house of De Castries; while numerous deputations waited upon his
adversary, to express their disapprobation of duelling in the most
energetic language. At this period single combats were considered a
detestable relic of aristocracy and courtly corruption. This act of
violence on the part of the mob was called “a sublime movement of the
people;” and Mirabeau, in one of his most eloquent speeches, thus
alluded to the event:

“You must establish in the empire an implicit obedience to
legitimate authorities, and repress amongst us a handful of insolent
conspirators. Ah! gentlemen, it is for their own security that I
invoke your severity. Are you not aware, that in this destruction, for
you cannot call it the dilapidation of a proscribed house, the people
bowed religiously before the image of their sovereign,--before the
portrait of the chief magistrate of the nation, the executor of the
laws, whom they venerated, although under the influence of a _generous
fury_?[17] Are you not aware, that this people, in the midst of their
excitement, showed their respect for age and for misfortune, by their
delicate attention to Madame de Castries? Are you not aware, that the
people, in quitting these premises, which they had destroyed, it may
be said with order and calmness, insisted that the pockets of every
individual should be searched, that no base action might tarnish a just
revenge? Such is true honour, which the prejudices of gladiators, and
their atrocious rites, can never display.”

It was after this event, that the ill-fated Bailly presented, as mayor
of Paris, the following resolution of the municipal body:

“The municipal body, alarmed at the frequency of duels, and the
disturbances which they create in the capital, have resolved, that a
deputation of twelve of their members shall be sent to the National
Assembly, to request that a law may be framed, as speedily as
possible, against the practice of duelling, which would recall the
citizens to a sense of their moral obligations, and warn them against
the suggestions of sentiments incompatible with the character of a free
and benevolent people.”

Another deputation solicited a decree which would render duelling a
crime of lèse-nationality, and supplicated the assembly to wield the
sword of justice in punishing the perverse individual who had shed the
blood of one of the representatives of the people, and whose crime the
capital had justly avenged. This address was received with tumultuous
applause, both by the audience and the members of the assembly, when
the member for Angoulême, a M. Roy, exclaimed, “That none but ruffians
could applaud such a proposal;” for which imprudence he was sentenced
to three days’ imprisonment. On this occasion Barnave made a most
eloquent speech against duelling, although three months after, he
fought and wounded Cazalés, another deputy.

Not only were duels avoided in these fearful times, but any person who
insulted one of the representatives of the people, or who acted with
violence towards him, was denounced as a conspirator and an assassin.
This was instanced in the case of Grangeneuve, who had quarrelled with
Jonneau, whom he called a F---- _Viédasse_,[18] to which the other
replied, “You have insulted me! are you a man of honour?” “I am,”
replied Grangeneuve. “Then meet me to-morrow at the Bois de Boulogne,
with pistols.” “I will meet you to-morrow in the National Assembly,”
replied his antagonist. “The world, then, will pronounce you a
coward.”--“And you a _Jean F----_;” on which Jonneau slapped his face;
Grangeneuve retorted with a stone, which he picked up, and a caning,
with kicks and cuffs, ensued.

Notwithstanding the unwarrantable conduct of Grangeneuve, Guadet, a
deputy from the Gironde, insisted upon an impeachment against Jonneau
as an assassin; and another orator, Larivière, who seconded the motion,
expressed himself in a bombastic style, illustrating the dementation of
the epoch: “Jonneau,” he said, “had been guilty of a cowardly action,
by provoking a man physically weak for a trifling insult, and was still
more cowardly in striking him: he ought to have imitated Turenne, who
being provoked to fight a duel, replied, “To-morrow there will be a
battle, all our blood belongs to our country, and we shall see which
of us shall the best defend her.” He therefore moved that Jonneau
should be committed, although, after he had been separated from his
antagonist, he had been unmercifully beaten by a ruffian of the name of
Saint Huruge, and Barbaroux, another deputy from the Gironde.

All the eloquence of these desperate madmen, however, could not prevent
occasional meetings, and the National Assembly at last abrogated all
former laws prohibiting single combat, and passed an amnesty in favour
of those transgressors who had been prosecuted agreeably to their
enactments.

Camille Desmoulins was another orator of this fearful epoch, who
launched forth against duelling in the following memorable language:

“One may brave death in the cause of liberty for one’s country,
and I feel that I could stretch my neck out of my litter, and hold
forth my throat to the sword of Antony; I feel that I could possess
sufficient fortitude to ascend the scaffold with a mingled sentiment
of pleasure. Such is the courage which I have received, not from
nature, which shudders at the aspect of death, but from philosophy;
to be assassinated by the bravo who provokes me, is to be stung by a
tarantula, and I should have to spend my days in the Bois de Boulogne,
were I to give satisfaction to all those whom my frankness offends. I
may be accused of cowardice, but I apprehend that the times are not
far distant when we shall have ample opportunities of dying in a more
glorious and useful manner.”

The occasion of this speech was a dispute which he had with Haudet
and Désessarts of the French theatre, and the miserable man had only
anticipated his impending fate, doomed soon after to fall under the
rival power of Robespierre.

Such were the morbid views of honour entertained during the atrocious
phases of the French Revolution: the most noble and generous sentiments
were professed by the most implacable monsters of the epoch; and while
the murder of innocent men on the scaffold was called by Danton the
_justice of the people_, a duel was denominated “_the argument of an
assassin_,”--when Marat was called the _Divine_, and Robespierre the
_Incorruptible_!--The Revolution might fairly be denominated a moral
pestilence caused by former corruption; the national atmosphere had
been tainted by the putrescency of the Court, and the fever that it
produced was marked by a homicidic delirium which from its diffusion in
every class of society might have been considered contagious.

The history of those momentous times presents us a series of causes
and effects so closely linked in their fatal catenation, that the
bloody annals of that era should constitute the chief study of every
diplomatist. It is to be deeply lamented that these records do not
become the text-book of diplomatic tuition. When the nobility dropped
their swords and the people picked them up, the meanest comprehension
could have foreseen the sanguinary results. The apathy in which the
possessors of power and wealth slumbered could only be compared to
the perfidious calm of gangrene that precedes dissolution. A blind
confidence in the prestige of authority hurled the nobility into a
vortex which swept them down the torrent of popular reaction. The
hatred in which duels were held, simply arose from their not being
the practice of fashionable men, and was a strong illustration of
the morbid temper of the nation, and the successful efforts of the
philosophic school. The history of the progress of liberal ideas
gradually casting off the restraints of rank and fortune might be
studied in the dedication of writers. Where could we find an author
in the present day, who, like Dryden, would compare the pustules of
small-pox on the corpse of a deceased young nobleman, the son of his
protector, to bright constellations in the firmament? As men grow wise,
the prejudices of barbarism will gradually disappear; and certainly,
with very few exceptions, we cannot trace much sapience in those
persons who have been engaged in personal conflicts of late years.




CHAPTER XIII.

DUELS DURING THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.


It has been truly said that during the French Revolution, the foot
of Liberty slipped on blood, and she fell prostrate under a military
despotism. Under the Directory an attempt was made to restore society
to its ancient prejudices, modified by the times, and duelling became
fashionable amongst the upper classes of society, more especially in
upstart circles, while in the army it was constantly resorted to both
by officers and soldiers. Scarcely a day passed without a meeting in
the Bois de Boulogne, while garrison towns were continually disturbed
by desperate duellists; pistols were now adopted by civilians, and the
sabre, rarely the small sword, became the arm of the military.

That duels should prove of frequent occurrence amongst soldiers and
officers of lower rank might be expected, since general officers showed
the example. In 1802, Generals Destaing and Reynier having quarrelled
in a discussion relating to the Egyptian campaign, Destaing was killed
by a pistol-shot in the breast. Napoleon, who was then First Consul,
expressed his displeasure, and for some time the survivor was obliged
to absent himself from Paris.

A diplomatic duel took place at Naples under the reign of Murat. At a
levee of the king and queen, Count Dolgoroucki, the Russian ambassador,
took precedence of the French envoy, Baron Durand de Mareuil, who as
family ambassador had a claim to a prior introduction. The baron took
no notice of this circumstance at the time, but on quitting the palace
sent a message to the Russian nobleman, who replied that he would
submit the affair to his court.

The French General, Excelmans, who was present at the time, immediately
called upon the Count de Beckendorf, the first secretary of the Russian
embassy, to demand satisfaction for the insult offered to France in
the person of her representative. The challenge was accepted, and at
the same time it was agreed that the two ambassadors should be present
at the meeting. However, the Russian ambassador would not allow his
secretary to take up the quarrel, and he accepted the message sent by
the envoy of France. The ambassadors becoming principals, the seconds
resolved that, according to the ancient Italian custom, they should
follow their example, and the four combatants met. Both ambassadors
were slightly wounded, but Beckendorf was run through the body by
Excelmans, and recovered with great difficulty. The war with Russia
broke out shortly after, and it is generally supposed that this insult
offered to France by the Russian minister was one of the pretexts that
accelerated the event.

Napoleon invariably objected to the practice of duelling; and, although
he knew from the character of his officers and soldiers, that it was
impossible to prevent it, yet he visited with his displeasure all the
superior officers who transgressed the regulations on that subject. He
was frequently heard to say, that he never could place any dependence
upon a duellist in battle, and that Latour Maubourg, the bravest of
the brave, had never drawn his sword in a private quarrel. Such was
also the opinion of Follard, the commentator of Polybius, who observed,
“that in his time, duellists were in great vogue, but he generally
found them the very scum and dishonour of the army, and the first to
flee in moments of danger.”

Gustavus IV, as has been already related, with more chivalric feeling
than wisdom, sent a message to Napoleon, who replied, “that he would
order a fencing-master to attend him as a plenipotentiary.”

During the reign of Napoleon, it appears that duels were not frequent;
society was no longer convulsed by party feelings and violent
political recriminations; discord had ceased to reign, and all France
submitted quietly to the iron yoke of military despotism. Former
disputes had arisen in the intrigues of courts, in which depraved and
ambitious females reigned paramount; and in the incessant altercations
of these privileged and honoured courtesans, the fashionable men of
the age were constantly involved; political debates were also a common
cause of hostile feeling, and a subsequent meeting: but under the
empire, no one could express his opinion, and political discussion
became merely a matter of form; the press, being also under the
immediate control of government, could not give offence, and when it
did offend, as it was the organ of the state, the injured party could
obtain no public or private redress.

The restoration of the Bourbons operated powerfully upon society; all
former animosities that had been kindled in silence, and smothered
by prudence, broke forth with an uncontrolled fury. The monarch was
reluctantly obliged to allow the freedom of the press, and the public
journals became the daily vehicle of slander and insult. The French
were unaccustomed to this licentiousness, which, from ancient usage, is
overlooked in general by British legislation,--lawyers and newspaper
writers could not brook these open insults, and literary duels marked
this period by their frequent occurrence. The return of the emigrants
was also the source of many duels; these unfortunate gentlemen,
“who had nothing learnt, and nothing forgotten” during their exile,
assumed a haughty bearing towards the officers of the republic and the
empire who were without birth or any name but that which their valour
had rendered noble, which could not be brooked by these soldiers of
fortune. Few duels between the _ancienne noblesse_ and the _parvenus_,
it is true, took place at court; but they were not unfrequent in the
army, until the sons of the olden times began to respect the children
of the revolution for their glorious deeds of arms, the narration of
which formed a great part of their conversation. Yet much blood had
been shed ere this reconciliation had taken place: the noble youth
of France who now surrounded the restored throne, devoted their time
to obtain some skill in swordsmanship, and in many of their quarrels
with the old officers, who had been for years out of practice, they
displayed a superiority which the former severely felt.

Ancient animosities and disappointed ambition now reigned paramount;
one party seeking to recover by violence and power what they had lost
by flight; and the other, to preserve what they had acquired at the
price of their blood and that of their families. All the wisdom and
prudence of Louis XVIII. could not restrain this impetuous torrent, to
which no bounds could be assigned, since the want of solidity of the
throne was felt in the vacillating state of every part of the social
edifice.

Parliamentary debates and studied imitations of British extemporaneous
eloquence, and paper-wars, led to constant disputes. St. Marcellin,
a distinguished literary character, was killed by Fayau, his bosom
friend. St. Morys, Lieutenant-colonel of the Gardes du corps, was
killed by Colonel Barbier Dufay, and Beaupoil de St. Aulaire paid with
his life a paragraph in his printed oration on the Duke de Feltre.
In consequence of this offensive publication, St. Aulaire was first
called out by the son of the deceased duke; he then had to fight a
cousin of the General M. de Pierrebourg: the parties met, when St.
Aulaire proposed the sabre, and Pierrebourg wished for the sword, but
conceded the point to his adversary; both were perfectly cool, so much
so indeed, that at the suggestion of St. Aulaire, they changed their
ground, as the sun was shining on his antagonist. St. Aulaire wounded
Pierrebourg in the knee, but being uncovered, the other gave point,
and wounded him between the ribs, when throwing away his sabre, he
exclaimed, “I fear that the wound is too deep;” to which the seconds
replied, “It is unfortunate, but it was all fair play.” St. Aulaire
expired a few minutes after.

Literary duels became frequent, especially on account of political
and historical works. Philippe de Ségur, author of the Campaign of
Russia, had to meet General Gourgaud, one of Napoleon’s aide-de-camps,
when the author was wounded. A Neapolitan colonel of the name of Pépé
challenged the author of a work, in which he had reproached Italy with
its pusillanimity, and obtained the satisfaction of wounding him, to
prove the incorrectness of his statement.

Two enthusiastic novel writers fought in defence of classical and
romantic literature, firing at each other four times, and only
separated when the severity of their wounds prevented further
hostilities. A desperate duel was fought between M. Raynouard,
commanding the Caravanne, and M. Garnerey, the artist, who had been
sent to paint the battle of Navarino. It appears that frequent
altercations had arisen between the parties when on board, and
Garnerey, labouring under fever, was landed by the captain at the
Lazaret of Toulon. The incensed artist wrote a letter, in which he
complained that he had been cruelly deprived of medical aid; in
consequence of which, Raynouard called him out as soon as they were
released from quarantine, when Garnerey shot him in the hip. He only
survived the wound nine days.

Notwithstanding the frequency of duels, the survivors were, in several
instances, prosecuted. An artillery officer of the name of Treins,
having called out a person of the name of Damarzil, it was decided that
they should fight with pistols, at the distance of six paces. Having
drawn lots for the first fire, it fell upon Treins; the witnesses
then requested that a greater distance should be taken. Treins would
not consent to this arrangement, which was contrary to the previous
agreement; he fired, and mortally wounded his adversary in the stomach.
Notwithstanding the severity of the wound, he had sufficient strength
to return the fire, wounding his antagonist in the arm. He died a
few hours after. The court came to the decision, “that Treins having
been the aggressor, and having fired contrary to the wishes of the
by-standers, at so short a distance, when he was certain of killing his
antagonist,--these circumstances did not allow that this case should be
included in those cases of duels which are not considered as criminal
and punishable as such.” On this occasion the duel was considered an
assassination, because the party fired at too short a distance. Yet it
must be recollected, that had the survivor’s pistol missed fire, his
antagonist had an equal certainty of shooting him.

The tribunal of Douai came to a similar conclusion in the case of a
person who shot another after taking a long and deliberate aim. The
court of Marseilles gave a similar judgment in the following case:--A
man, named Roqueplane had called out another of the name of Durré.
The seconds wanted to place the parties at a distance of twenty-five
paces; Durré insisted upon fifteen. Lots were drawn for the first fire,
which fell upon Roqueplane, who discharged his pistol in the air. Durré
insisted that he should fire at him; and, despite the interference of
the seconds, his wish was acceded to: but the pistol missed fire; on
which Durré fired, and shot his adversary dead.

A singular case, somewhat of a similar nature, occurred not long
since at Bordeaux. A Spanish-American gentleman had left his wife in
that city, and during his absence her conduct, it appeared, had been
anything but correct. On his return, the tongue of scandal and of
friendship soon informed him of what was called his dishonour; and he
fixed upon a young man of the name of A----, as the person who was to
give him satisfaction, on the plea that he had intrigued with his wife.
M. A---- refused to meet him repeatedly, insisting upon his innocence;
and adding, that even if proofs of any criminality could be adduced,
the conduct of the lady had been so improper with various persons, that
he would not expose his life in such a business. The husband persisted,
and at last meeting him at ’Change, struck him repeatedly. A meeting
was now unavoidable. Forty paces were measured, and eighteen paces
told off between the two extreme points, leaving a space of only four
paces in the centre of the ground. It was decided that both parties
should advance towards this point, and fire whenever they thought
proper. The adversaries moved on; but the Spaniard, in his vindictive
impatience, fired at twelve paces, and missed his antagonist, who
continued advancing towards the central point of four paces, while
the disappointed Spaniard halted where he had fired. According to the
pre-arranged agreement, he was ordered to proceed to the centre, where
stood his antagonist; when only four paces divided them. M. A----
then stated, that he would not fire, if his adversary was satisfied;
to which the other replied, that he would fire, as he was determined
that one of them should fall. A---- fired; but the pistol missing, it
was found that his second had not put any cap to it: it was therefore
decided, that he was entitled to a shot. Again he expressed his earnest
desire not to fire. The Spaniard persisted, and was shot dead. Although
at the short distance of four paces, so uncertain is the fire of a
pistol, that had the ball, which had struck the shoulder and entered
the chest, deviated but a line or two, and been reflected from the
bone, the wound would have been slight, and A---- undoubtedly would
have fallen. M. A----, with the seconds of both parties, was imprisoned
for a considerable time; and when brought to trial, acquitted. In this
case, most undoubtedly, the fault rested with the seconds, who should
not have left to their principals the power of reserving their fire
until they came in such a close situation; an arrangement of which
every cool person would avail himself. The chances were also rendered
unequal by the precipitation of one of the parties. He could have held
back his fire until he came to the four-pace interval, if he thought
proper; and his adversary was fully warranted in availing himself of
the circumstance, while he honourably offered him his life.

In this case, my opinion was asked, as an English officer. M. A---- was
a particular friend of mine; and I gave it as my decided opinion, that
he had behaved most honourably. He had been fired at, and continued
to move forward according to agreement. The Spaniard should have done
the same; it was therefore but just, that he should not be allowed to
receive A----’s fire where he had halted; since, if A---- had missed
him, the Spaniard’s next fire would have taken place at the central
point, on which he most undoubtedly would have advanced, to claim the
advantage which he himself had given to his antagonist. In regard
to the missing of A----’s fire, had the pistol been capped, most
unquestionably he would have had no claim to a second fire; but the
unpardonable neglect had not been his, it was the fault of his second;
for which, most assuredly, he should not have perilled his life. It is
true, that a miss-fire is considered as equivalent to a shot, in primed
pistols, but this rule cannot hold good in percussion arms. A priming
may be damp, may be shaken out; but the pistol had been properly
loaded. A percussion pistol, without a cap, is to all purposes the same
as an unloaded weapon; and if such a neglect on the part of a second,
was to expose the life of a principal, it might lead to the most
treacherous acts and premeditated murders. This case strongly proves
the necessity of pistols being loaded in the presence of both seconds;
and perhaps so long as this barbarous practice prevails, it might be
more prudent not to use percussion arms. I shall return to this most
important subject in another part of this work.

In regiments, the strictest discipline could not prevent duelling. It
became the boast of particular corps; and before the French Revolution,
no officer was admitted into the society of his comrades, until he had
given proofs of his courage, and fought without any motive. For this
purpose, expert fencers were selected, who were called “feelers;”[19]
and it must be admitted, that in general they merely sought to inflict
a trifling wound. Another custom prevailed in several regiments, which
was called the _calotte_, and consisted in insulting persons who
passed by the coffee-houses which these madcaps frequented. On such
occasions they exacted a pecuniary tribute from the offended party,
if he declined fighting. It was on an occasion of this kind, that an
officer of artillery, named De Paris, was attacked at Verdun. In the
first instance he paid the exacted tribute, and then addressing himself
to the officer, who was considered the chief of the _calotte_, he
insisted upon an immediate satisfaction, which was of course granted.
The parties met; the chief of this murderous association was killed;
and two of his brother officers who succeeded him shared the same fate.

Colonels of regiments not unfrequently showed a pernicious example in
sanctioning duels. The Viscount de Noailles, colonel of the King’s
dragoons, had said at table, that although he would break, without any
hesitation, any officer who would call him out while with the regiment,
yet, that when at Paris, and in plain clothes, he would always be ready
to attend any officer to the Bois de Boulogne. A Captain de Bray, of
his regiment, who considered that he had been insulted by him, availed
himself of this declaration, and severely wounded him. His commanding
officer most honourably recommended him to the first vacant majority
in the corps. This same De Noailles was in the habit of announcing the
day of his departure from every place he had been quartered in, in the
public papers, for the purpose, he said, of affording an opportunity
for settling affairs of every description.

The restoration of the Bourbons had gradually calmed the excitement
between hostile parties, or rather they were tired of useless
conflicts, until the Revolution of the Barricades once more gave a
free vent to the rage of political animosities, and all classes seemed
to consider bloodshed as the only means of asserting their rights. An
absurd chivalrous character had been given to the heroes of July, and
every violent demagogue fancied that he was called upon to display a
similar contempt of life.

A paragraph having appeared in the paper called _La Tribune_,
containing some reflection on the Duchesse de Berry, the editors of
_Le Revenant_, a legitimist publication, demanded satisfaction from
those of _La Tribune_. The parties decided that no individual duel
should take place, but that a collective meeting should be fixed upon
between any two of the editors whose names appeared in the lists, as
other newspapers had taken part in the quarrel. At last it was decided
that a meeting should take place between Armand Carrel, editor of _Le
National_, and Roux Laborie, editor of _Le Revenant_. The duel took
place; when Laborie, who was by no means so dexterous as his adversary,
was run through the arm. The parties were then separated, when Carrel
stated that he believed he was wounded; and upon examination it was
found that he had received a dangerous injury in the belly. The seconds
were about crossing swords in their turn, when the interference of the
police put an end to the contest.

Challenges were now mutually exchanged between the writers in favour of
legitimacy and their republican brethren, until the populace espoused
the cause of the latter: publishers and the offices of the Royalist
papers were besieged for several days by the mob. Had Carrel died, it
is difficult to say to what excesses this exasperation might have led.

Brian, editor of _La Quotidienne_, had to fight a duel with one of his
colleagues; and hostile meetings between newspaper writers took place,
not only in Paris, but the principal cities in France. The following
extract from a paper of the time (February 1834) will show to what an
extent duelling was carried at this period.

“A deplorable mania for duelling has prevailed during the last week.
On the same day on which M. Dulong was wounded by a pistol-shot by
General Bugeaud, two medical students were fighting at a few paces from
them, and one of them was mortally wounded by a shot in the breast.
This morning, three more duels took place, one of them fatal, and all
grounded on political differences; and this day, the manager of one of
our theatres has fought the editor of a newspaper.”

While political disputes thus led numerous champions into the field,
their party warmly advocated the cause which they maintained at the
peril of their lives. Thus, a duel having taken place between a native
of Toulouse and Marseilles, on electioneering questions, the Toulousian
being seriously wounded, was carried to the hospital, where he was
immediately followed by his partisans, wearing white pinks at their
button-holes, and who suspended a crown of laurels and lilies over the
patient’s head at Marseilles. Barthelemy, the editor of the _Peuple
Souverain_, killed David, who conducted the _Garde National_; and soon
after the editor of the _Gazette de Perigord_, fought his predecessor
of different political opinions.

It would be endless to relate the numerous duels that took place at
this period between literary men, not only on account of political
divergence of opinion, but on literary claims. Thus, Alexander Dumas
fought Gaillardet, on account of the drama called the _Tour de Nesle_.
It appeared that the latter was the original author of this drama,
admirably constructed, but unfortunately of a disgusting character,
every vice that can disfigure humanity having been brought into
action. The manager of the theatre (La Porte St. Martin) conceived
that the dialogue required correction, or that the incidents of the
piece might be more powerfully developed; and he, therefore, with the
consent of the author, placed the MS. in the hands of Dumas. The latter
claimed no authorship, until the piece was brought out with great
success, and became the _rage_ of the Parisians; when, to the amazement
of Gaillardet, Dumas published the play as his sole production. The
business was first brought before the tribunals; but the honour of the
parties not being satisfied, a meeting took place, when pistol-shots
were exchanged at fifteen paces. The infuriated dramatists were
resolved to fire until one of them fell; but the seconds very wisely
prevented further proceedings. This exasperation, arising from galled
vanity, is easily accounted for, when we find that two other dramatic
writers, whose productions had been received with doubtful success, and
severely criticised in the papers, shut themselves up with a pan of
charcoal, and were suffocated in poetical despair.

Duels, having thus descended from the aristocracy of the country to
inferior grades, became at last common even amongst trades-people. In
1833, we find a silk-mercer fighting a wool-merchant with pistols, and
desperately wounding his antagonist; while a bath-keeper called out
and fought a crockery-ware seller, for having sold him a cracked stove.
At Douai, a woollen-draper challenged a brazier to fight him with
swords; the parties met, and rushing at each other like two butting
bulls, the brazier was run through the throat, and the unfortunate
woollen-draper received a mortal wound in the bowels.

Nor was difference of rank any protection against the necessity of
giving satisfaction. At Bordeaux, an officer of cavalry, wishing to
dispose of a new uniform coat that did not fit him, called in a Jew
old-clothesman, who offered him five francs for the coat. The officer,
justly incensed at this impertinence, ordered him out of his room.
Moses refused: the dragoon kicked him down stairs. The exasperated Jew
immediately challenged the officer, who refused to fight him; when the
Jew, meeting him in the street, called him a coward, and struck him.
The officer would have cut down the Israelite on the spot, had he not
been prevented, and was about bringing the man before the police, when
it was decided by the corps, that the officer, having placed himself
upon a level with the Jew by striking him, he was called upon to give
him the satisfaction he had demanded. The meeting took place, and the
Israelite went to the ground with a host of his nation. Swords being
crossed, the Hebrew, notwithstanding the loud acclamations of his
tribe, could not be brought to stand, but retreated and fell back,
until his adversary brought him against a ditch, which at last halted
him. Here he would not show fight; and the officer would have run him
through the body, had not the crowd of Jews rushed to his relief; and
it was with great difficulty that the dragoon and his second could
effect their escape to a carriage in attendance.

It was during these turbulent times, and after the Revolution of
July, that my friend, Colonel Trobriant, shot Pélicier, of the Home
Department, the dispute having arisen about a popular song. Trobriant
wanted to fire in the air; but his adversary replied, “No cowardly
condescension, if you please, sir. Aim at me, sir, for I shall aim
at you.” Trobriant fired, and the ball entered the forehead of his
obstinate adversary.

Prefects, magistrates, editors, shopkeepers, had now descended into the
camp; and no situation of life, age, or condition, seemed to be matters
of consideration. Comte Leon, a supposed natural son of Napoleon,
fought several duels; one with the colonel of the National Guard of
St. Denis, and the other with an English officer of the 18th Hussars,
of the name of Hesse, who had lost to him eighteen thousand francs at
play. In this last meeting, it was decided in writing, that the parties
should be placed at thirty paces from each other, and advance to ten
paces. They both moved forward three paces, took aim, but did not
fire. Hesse made another step, and Leon did the same, when both firing,
Hesse received a wound in the left breast, and expired after three
days’ acute suffering. The widow prosecuted the survivor; but after a
short trial he was acquitted, Mrs. Hesse not appearing on behalf of the
prosecution.

In the singular duel between two persons of the names of Lethuillier
and Wattebaut, the survivor was condemned to ten years’ imprisonment.
The circumstances were the following:--Lethuillier and his wife kept
a _maison de santé_ at Pantin, and Wattebaut, who called himself a
man of letters, lodged with them. They were both staunch republicans,
and their uniformity in political opinions cemented a strict intimacy
between them. However, political affections did not prevent Wattebaut
from paying more than common attention to the fair wife of his host. A
dispute arose, when it was decided that they should fight with pistols,
and at the same time it was also agreed that no seconds should be
present at the meeting, to avoid the possibility of any reconciliation,
while at the same time the honour of Madame Lethuillier would not be
compromised by the circumstance being confided to others. The parties
met in the wood of Romainville; Wattebaut in vain sought to reconcile
matters by affirming his innocence in the most solemn manner; the
husband was inflexible. Wattebaut fired, and his ball entering the
right temple, grazed along the eye, passed through the root of the
nose, and came out by the left eye, Lethuillier being struck blind.
Wattebaut seeing him fall, fancied that he was dead, and fled; but the
wounded man contrived to crawl as far as the cemetery of Pantin, where
his groans attracted the notice of some persons passing by, who carried
him home. Lethuillier pursued his adversary before the tribunals,
maintaining that he had been treacherously wounded before he had taken
his ground, and after he had proposed to his adversary to fight across
a pocket handkerchief. Wattebaut, on the contrary, asserted that he had
fired according to the stipulated pre-arrangement, contradicting the
charges brought against him in every particular. Although no evidence
appeared on behalf of the plaintiff or the defendant, the latter was
condemned to ten years’ imprisonment.

Such was the fury of duelling during these times of excitement, that
two brothers actually engaged in a conflict of this nature: one of them
fired on his adversary, a dragoon in the 11th regiment, and having
missed him, knocked him down with a bludgeon, and only left him when he
considered him a corpse.

A duel was fought between Cadet Gassicourt the chemist, and one of the
Mayors of Paris, and his assistant, Viguier, about some repairs that
were required in their parish church; and in 1834 the president of the
_Cour Royale_ fought a barrister, when the judge was wounded by the
pleader. About the same period the celebrated meeting between General
Bugeaud and a lawyer of the name of Dulong took place. Both of them
were members of the Chamber of Deputies, and the quarrel arose in a
debate in the house regarding the treatment of the Duchess of Berry. As
this was what was called a parliamentary duel, the particulars of this
transaction are curious. The discussion arose on the subject of the
imprisonment of the duchess under the general’s custody, when a deputy
of the name of Larabit maintained that an officer was not obliged to
fulfil an ignoble mission. Soult replied, “A soldier’s first duty is
obedience;” on which Larabit observed, “The President of the Council
says that a military man should obey: this I readily grant; but when a
man is conscious of his rectitude, and is ordered to recede from his
duty, he should cease to obey his superiors.” “Never, never!” exclaimed
several members; on which Dulong added, with much warmth, “What! is a
man in obedience to the command of his superiors to become a gaoler and
degrade himself?”

This hasty expression was not distinctly heard by all the members
present, nor did it reach the ears of General Bugeaud until some friend
repeated the offensive language. The general immediately went over
and sat near Dulong, who gave a satisfactory explanation, disclaiming
any personal allusion. Here the matter would have rested, had not one
of the newspapers taken up the subject, when the general demanded a
written apology from Dulong, a request to which he immediately acceded
by transmitting to the editor of the paper a statement in which he
declared that he had meant nothing personal or offensive in his speech.
This letter was sent to the general, who forwarded it by M. de Rumigny,
one of the King’s aides-de-camp, to the editor of the _Journal des
Débats_. Soon afterwards an evening paper published the following
paragraph:

“The _Journal des Débats_ having reported yesterday that M. Dulong had
made use of language most insulting to General Bugeaud, it was this day
affirmed in the Chamber that the honourable general had insisted on an
apology on the part of M. Dulong, which will appear to-morrow in the
_Journal des Débats_.”

On reading this report, M. Dulong immediately addressed the editor of
the _Débats_ to request he would not publish his declaration, and the
general himself called at the office for the letter, and afterwards
waited upon M. Dulong. Seconds were appointed, and as matters could
not be settled to the satisfaction of all parties, a duel with pistols
was arranged to take place the following morning.

General Bugeaud, who was considered one of the most dexterous shots in
the army, suggested to M. Dulong the advantage that might result to him
from the use of swords; but Dulong, who as a lawyer knew nothing of the
use of arms, thought that the pistol would offer him a greater security.

The parties met at the Bois de Boulogne at the appointed hour, when
it was decided that they should be placed at forty paces from each
other, and on a given signal advance and fire whenever they thought
proper. General Bugeaud in the most honourable manner, and to give his
adversary every possible chance that the greater distance could afford,
fired at the second step, but unfortunately with too much precision, as
the unfortunate Dulong dropped wounded by a ball that had entered the
skull over the left eye, and he expired on the following morning. This
fatal event was clearly the work of political writers, who fomented
the hostile feelings of both parties, and whose conduct only admitted
of this extenuation, that they were always ready to fight amongst
themselves, or with any other political antagonist who wanted to decide
a question by recourse to arms.

This duel caused a considerable sensation in Paris; the King was
much censured for not having prevented it, as the chances were most
unequal between a skilful combatant and a literary man, who had never
handled sword or pistol. Moreover, the written apology of Dulong,
instead of being returned to him when the hostile meeting was decided
upon, remained in the hands of the general’s second; a most unfair
proceeding, since the ill-fated Dulong, who fought sooner than give
publicity to a statement which was reported to have been obtained by
threats, had the unquestionable right to demand the restoration of the
document; and this letter, which it was affirmed had been burnt in the
Palace of the Tuileries, appeared a few days after Dulong’s death in
several provincial papers.

In a former chapter, we have seen with what ferocity many duels were
fought in more barbarous times, yet at the period of which we are now
speaking, similar acts of desperation were not uncommon. Two officers
mortally wounded, insisted on being laid upon mattresses, that they
might continue to fire at each other, until one of the party expired.
Two other officers of high rank exchanged five shots, and the sixth
only took effect, proving fatal to one of them.

Duels were also fought in public. A fatal duel of this nature took
place between a M. de C----, an officer of light cavalry, and M. V----,
of Carcassone. It appeared, that while the regiment of M. C---- was
quartered in the latter town, he had courted a sister of M. V----,
and, under the promise of marriage, deceived her. The route arrived,
and the regiment marched to Hesdin, where V---- followed the seducer,
and insisted upon his marriage with his sister; to which proposal
C---- acceded, stating, that he only waited for the consent of his
family. A suspicious delay having taken place, M. de V---- followed him
to Paris, and demanded a categorical explanation of his intentions;
satisfaction was insisted upon, and C---- again renewed his promises,
fixing a period. This period having expired, M. de V----, accompanied
by his sister and mother, repaired to Hesdin, where the regiment was in
garrison. C---- continuing to hesitate, a meeting was fixed upon, near
the glacis of the town; the commanding officer and the mayor being both
apprised of a transaction which was considered unavoidable. The gates
of the town were closed after upwards of eighteen hundred persons had
assembled to witness the conflict.

On the ground, M. de V---- once more called upon De C---- to fulfil
his promise, and rescue his unfortunate sister from ignominy, adding,
that from his expertness in the use of the pistol, his life was at his
disposal; and he even proposed swords, to afford him a more equal
chance in the conflict. This remonstrance and generous conduct were of
no avail. M. de C----, it appears, had practised pistol firing for a
considerable length of time, and was equally certain of a successful
aim. Lots were drawn for the first fire, which fell upon C----, whose
ball grazed the head of his adversary, who firing in turn, shot his
dishonourable adversary through the head.

All distinction of rank appeared to be levelled; and a general officer
who was disappointed in his expectation of promotion, actually sent a
message to Marshal Soult, then minister of war, demanding either the
advancement he had memorialized for, or personal satisfaction. The
age and position of the marshal were sufficient motives to decline
this singular meeting; when the general thought proper to call out
the marshal’s son, the Marquis de Dalmatie, to fight for his father,
a challenge which, of course, was also refused; when the pugnacious
memorialist published an insulting letter addressed to the marquis, in
the usual language of what is called “posting;” but this outrageous
conduct was very properly treated with the contempt it deserved.

Such was the state of society in France after the restoration, and the
second revolution. There existed no authoritative power able to control
the discordant elements that agitated society. Disappointed ambition
on one side, and insulting prosperity on the other, came into daily
collision. There was no common enemy to fight beyond the frontier, and
intestine personal warfare had succeeded foreign military operations.
There existed a constant state of agitation and uncertainty which all
parties were anxious to subdue; and the editors of the public papers
were war-hounds, let loose to stir up universal commotion. Batons
of marshals and dukedoms were no longer to be obtained by the sword
wielded against national enemies, and civil pre-eminence was sought by
drawing it on any competitor who stood in the way of advancement. The
country was in a febrile state, and loss of blood seemed as necessary
to the body politic, as it might have been considered advisable in
the case of a morbid individual. There existed no safety-valve from
the high pressure of the times; and, fortunately for the country, the
occasional explosions that took place were of little importance, and
only served to improve the machinery, so ably conducted by its present
engineer, the King of the French. Any endeavour on his part, or that
of the Bourbons, after their restoration, to prevent parties from
coming into hostile collision, would have been worse than idle. It was
a storm, to which a calm might naturally be expected to succeed; and,
at the present period, duels in France are scarcely ever heard of; in
fact, they are not in fashion.

The French are naturally disposed to fight; and we have had sad proofs
of this sanguinary propensity during the late war, when their prisoners
on board the hulks, and in the several dépôts, converted every tool
or instrument into a sword; and nails, knives, razors, sharpened iron
hoops, were fixed at the end of sticks for the purpose of fighting;
fighting and gambling being their only amusements.

Many were the melancholy scenes that took place in 1814, when the
allies were in Paris; duels between the officers of the foreign powers
and those of the disbanded French army were incessant, and they
generally proved fatal to the strangers. The French were spending their
whole days and nights in fencing; and there is every reason to believe,
that, not satisfied with their own skill in fence, their _prevosts_, or
fencing-masters, assumed the uniform of officers to meet any imprudent
youth who was foolhardy enough to accept their challenges. Thus did
many an Austrian and Prussian officer fall in the Bois de Boulogne.

When the British army occupied the south of France, similar scenes were
witnessed, but more especially at Bordeaux, where the French officers
came over the Garonne, for the sole purpose of insulting and fighting
the English, who were, in many instances, absurd enough to meet their
wishes. It is, however, gratifying to state, that the fortune of arms
was generally in our favour; and, in many instances, when our young
officers had been so imprudent as to accept a challenge with the sword,
their superior bodily strength and utter ignorance of the polite rules
of duelling turned to their advantage; in several instances, they
rushed on their adversaries, broke through their guard, and cut them
down. In vain the French expostulated against this breach of _les
régles de l’escrime_, and called out “foul play;” our seconds usually
carried pistols in their pockets, and threatened to shoot any one who
interfered; and the French at last were tired of the experiment.[20]

After the campaign of Waterloo, the French were equally anxious to
recover by private deeds of courage their lost fame in battle; but past
experience had taught the British the folly of attending to their
insults. An unfortunate occurrence, however, took place at Cambrai.
Lieutenant G---- of the Guards was proceeding to the mess-room, when a
French officer in plain clothes followed him, making use of the most
insulting expressions; G---- turned round and asked him if his language
was addressed to him, when the ruffian replied, “To you, or any
English coward.” Instead of treating this rodomontade with sovereign
contempt, the young man agreed to meet him the following morning with
pistols. The report of this intended meeting was generally known in
the garrison; and it is deeply to be lamented, that the commanding
officer did not place the ardent youth under close arrest, but it
appears that he was satisfied with the assurance on the part of the
French _commissaire de police_, that the offending party should be
apprehended and sent out of the town. This, however, was not done, and
the meeting took place on the following morning. Although it had been
clearly stipulated that the weapons should be pistols, the Frenchman
came to the ground with unbuttoned foils, alleging that he could not
procure pistols. G---- very imprudently offered him one of his own,
and fell, mortally wounded, at the first discharge. It was observed,
that on their mutual fire, the Frenchman staggered a pace or two;
when collecting himself, he advanced to poor G----, who was expiring
in the arms of his companions, and said with much _sang-froid_, “Poor
young man! had we fought with swords, he would have been spared all
this agony.” What he meant by this expression it is difficult to say,
whether he would have killed him _outright_, or slightly wounded him.
The latter surmise, however, is not probable.

When a party of men came from the gate to bear away G----’s body, the
French officer exclaimed that “it would be treachery to apprehend him;”
but he was presently undeceived, and advised in the most honourable
manner to effect his escape as speedily as possible. The fellow,
however, seemed to confide in the protection of his countrymen and the
apathy of our commander, for he went publicly to the coffee-house,
boasting that, after killing a Prussian, an Austrian, a Spaniard, and
a Portuguese, he at last had been lucky enough to kill an Englishman.
During this conversation he exhibited a silk handkerchief pierced
with several shot-holes, and which he said had been grazed by his
adversary’s ball. This circumstance, connected with his having
staggered on G----’s fire, gives every reason to believe that he wore
a cuirass, our inexperienced officers not having insisted upon his
stripping, according to the established rule in French duels, when both
parties are obliged to show that they wear no protection.




CHAPTER XIV.

DUELS BETWEEN FRENCH WOMEN.


That women, who can mostly get silly people to fight for them, should
not fight themselves is natural, but there are instances on record in
which ladies have shown their determination to avenge their own wrongs.

Madame de Villechen mentions a duel fought with swords by the Henriette
Sylvie of Molière with another woman, both in male attire. In the
letters of Madame Dunoyer, a case is mentioned of a lady of Beaucaire
and a young lady of rank, who fought with swords in their garden, and
would have killed each other had they not been separated; this meeting
had been preceded by a regular challenge.

De la Colombière mentions a duel that took place on the Boulevard
St. Antoine between two ladies of doubtful virtue, in which they
inflicted on each other’s face and bosom several wounds, two points
at which female jealousy would naturally aim. St. Foix relates the
case of Mademoiselle Durieux, who in the open street fought her lover
of the name of Antinotti. But the most celebrated female duellist
was the actress, Maupin, one of the performers at the opera. Serane,
the famous fencing-master, was one of her lovers, and from him she
received many valuable lessons. Being insulted one day by an actor of
the name of Dumény, she called him out; but as he refused to give her
satisfaction, she carried away his watch and his snuff-box as trophies
of her victory. Another performer having presumed to offend her, on his
declining a meeting was obliged to kneel down before her and implore
forgiveness. One evening at a ball, having behaved in a very rude
manner to a lady, she was requested to leave the room, which she did on
the condition that those gentlemen who had warmly espoused the offended
lady’s cause should accompany her. To this proposal they agreed; when
after a hard combat she killed them all, and quietly returned to
the ball-room. Louis XIV. granted her a pardon, and she withdrew to
Brussels, where she became the mistress of the Elector of Bavaria.
However, she soon after returned to the Parisian opera, and died in
1707 at the age of thirty-seven.

Under the regency a pistol meeting took place between the Marquise
de Nesle and the Countess Polignac for the possession of the Duc de
Richelieu; and in more modern times, so late, indeed, as 1827, a Madame
B---- at St. Rambert, received a challenge to fight with pistols;
and about the same period a lady of Châteauroux, whose husband had
received a slap in the face without resenting the insult, called out
the offender, and fighting him with swords severely wounded him.

In 1828 a duel took place between a young girl and a _garde du corps_.
She had been betrayed by the gallant soldier, and insisted upon
satisfaction, selecting her own weapons by the right of an offended
party. Two shots were exchanged, but without any result, as the seconds
very wisely had not loaded with ball. The young lady, however, ignorant
of this precaution, fired first, and received the fire of her adversary
with the utmost coolness, when, to try her courage, after taking a
long and deliberate aim, he fired in the air, and thus terminated the
meeting, which no doubt led to many others of a less hostile nature.

In the same month, as a striking instance of the contagion of this
practice, a duel was fought near Strasbourg between a French woman and
a German lady, both of whom were in love with a painter. The parties
met on the ground armed with pistols, with seconds of their own sex.
The German damsel wanted to fire across a pocket handkerchief, but the
French lady and her seconds insisted upon a distance of twenty-five
paces, They both fired without effect, when the exasperated German
insisted that they should carry on the contest until one of the
parties fell. This determination, however, was controlled by the
seconds, who put a stop to further proceedings, but were unable to
bring about a reconciliation.

We shall shortly see that our English ladies have shown as much
determination under similar circumstances; and when we consider the
bitter animosity that frequently exists between women, who are not in
the habit of resenting their real or supposed wrongs by having recourse
to a personal satisfaction, which may be considered the safety-valve
of passions, and which not unfrequently supersedes assassination, one
may be surprised that duels are not more frequent between them. Their
mode of living and habits must induce them to brood more deeply than
men over the insults which their pride and vanity have received, and in
both sexes these sentiments, when ruffled, can rarely be smoothed down.
The only reason which may be adduced to account for the circumstance
is their natural timidity as regards personal danger, to which we may
add the greater certainty of avenging their injuries by intrigue and
slander, “whose edge is sharper than the sword.”




CHAPTER XV.

CODE OF DUELLING ESTABLISHED IN FRANCE.


We have seen that France has ever held out an example in duelling; and
the rules which were established in that country, at various periods,
to regulate these hostile meetings, have generally been considered as
precedents in other countries; more especially on the continent of
Europe.

The French admit three sorts of offences: 1st, a simple offence; 2nd,
an offence of an insulting nature; and, 3rd, an offence with personal
acts of violence. In these cases, they have established the following
rules; which, indeed, so long as duelling is tolerated, may be
considered most judicious, and such as should regulate the arrangements
of all quarrels.

1. If in the course of a discussion an offence is offered, the person
who has been offended is the injured party. If this injury is followed
by a blow, unquestionably the party that has been struck is the injured
one. To return one blow by another of a more serious nature,--severely
wounding, for instance, after a slap in the face,--does not constitute
the person who received the second blow, however severe it may have
been, the party originally insulted. In this case, satisfaction may
be demanded by the party that was first struck. Such a case must be
referred to the chances of a meeting.

2. If an insult follows an unpolite expression,--if the aggressor
considers himself offended, or if the person who has received the
insult, considers himself insulted,--the case must also be referred to
a meeting.

3. If in the course of a discussion, during which the rules of
politeness have not been transgressed, but in consequence of which,
expressions have been made use of, which induce one of the party to
consider himself offended, the man who demands satisfaction cannot be
considered the aggressor, or the person who gives it the offender. This
case must also be submitted to the trial of chance.

4. But if a man sends a message, without a sufficient cause, in this
case he becomes the aggressor; and the seconds, before they allow a
meeting to take place, must insist upon a sufficient reason being
manifestly shown.

5. A son may espouse the cause of his father, if he is too aged to
resent an insult, or if the age of the aggressor is of great disparity;
but a son cannot espouse the quarrel of his father if he has been the
aggressor.[21]

6. There are offences of such a galling nature, that they may lead the
insulted party to have recourse to acts of violence. Such acts ought
invariably to be avoided, as they can only tend to a mortal combat.

7. The offended party has the choice of arms.[22]

8. When the offence has been of a degrading nature, the offended has
the right to name both arms and duel.[23]

9. When the offence has been attended by acts of violence, the offended
party has the right to name his duel, his arms, the distance, and may
insist upon the aggressor not using his own arms, to which he may have
become accustomed by practice; but in this case, the offended party
must also use weapons in which he is not practised.

10. There are only three legal arms: 1st, the sword; 2nd, the sabre;
3rd, the pistol. The sabre may be refused even by the aggressor,
especially if he is a retired officer; but it may be always objected to
by a civilian.

11. When a challenge is sent, or a meeting demanded, the parties have a
mutual right to the name and address of each other.

12. The parties should immediately after seek their seconds, sending to
each other the names and addresses of their seconds.[24]

13. Honour can never be compromised by the offending party admitting
that they were in the wrong. If the apology of the offending party
is deemed sufficient by the seconds of the offended; if the seconds
express their satisfaction and are ready to affirm this opinion in
writing; or if the offender has tendered a written apology, considered
of a satisfactory nature;--in such a case, the party that offers to
apologise ceases to be the offender; and if his adversary persists,
the arms must be decided by drawing lots. However, no apology can be
received after a blow. An amicable arrangement of a quarrel should take
place before the parties meet on the ground, unless circumstances
prevent a prior interview. Howbeit, if when upon the ground, and even
when armed, one of the parties thinks proper to apologise, and the
seconds of the offended party are satisfied, it is only the party that
tenders the apology upon whom any future unfavourable reflections can
be cast.

14. If the seconds of the offending party come to the ground with an
apology, instead of bringing forward their principal, it is only to
them that blame can be attached, as the honour of their principal was
placed in their hands.

15. No challenge can be sent by collective parties. If any body
or society of men have received an insult, they can only send
an individual belonging to it to demand satisfaction. A message
collectively sent, may be refused; but the challenged party may select
an antagonist, or leave the nomination to chance.

16. All duels should take place during the forty-eight hours that
have succeeded the offence, unless it is otherwise stipulated by the
seconds.[25]

17. In a duel with pistol or sabre, two seconds to each combatant are
indispensable: one will suffice when the sword is used.

18. It is the duty of the seconds to decide upon the necessity of the
duel, and to state their opinions to their principals. After having
consulted with them in such a manner as not to allow any chance of
avoiding a duel to escape, they must again meet, and exert their best
endeavours to settle the business amicably. If they fail in this
attempt, they must then decide upon arms, time, place, distance, and
mode of fighting; and at the same time they must endeavour to come to
some arrangement regarding any difficulties that might arise, when the
parties are on the ground.

19. Seconds are not witnesses; and each second should have a
witness.[26]

20. No second, or witness, shall become a principal on the spot. Any
insult received by them constitutes a fresh offence.

21. The seconds should not remain more than ten minutes on the ground
without a combat.

22. The seconds in a duel with swords, may request that the offended
party shall be allowed to ward off a lounge with the left hand. This,
however, may be refused by the seconds of the aggressor.

23. The seconds of the aggressor may, if they think proper, refuse to
fire by signal, if the aggressor had not struck his antagonist.

24. The seconds must determine whether the combatants in sword duels
shall be allowed to take breath.

25. The seconds will also decide (without acquainting their principals
of this decision), whether the parties are to be separated after the
first wound. In this arrangement, they will be guided by the nature of
the quarrel.

26. They will also decide whether a fencing-glove, or any other article
to wrap round the hand, is to be allowed; a string,[27] or a common
glove, are always allowed.

27. The seconds are never to let their principals know that they are of
opinion that the nature of the insult received is such as to render a
mortal combat necessary.

28. The seconds may refuse the sword if the principal is unable to
use it from any infirmity, unless the offended party has received a
personal injury.

29. The seconds of a person blind of one eye, may object to the pistol,
unless the aggressor had struck him.

30. The sword or sabre may be declined by the seconds of a person with
only one leg or arm.

31. The seconds of a young man shall not allow him to fight an
adversary above sixty years of age, unless this adversary had struck
him; and, in this case, his challenge must be accepted in writing. His
refusal to comply with this rule is tantamount to a refusal to give
satisfaction, and the young man’s honour is thereby satisfied.

32. If any unfair occurrence takes place in a duel, it is the duty
of the seconds to commit the circumstance to paper, and follow it up
before the competent tribunals, when they are bound in honour to give
true evidence.

33. It is the duty of seconds to separate the combatants the very
moment that the stipulated rules are transgressed.

34. A father, a brother, a son, or any relation in the first degree,
cannot serve as second, for or against his relative.

35. In sword duels, the seconds will mark the standing spot of each
combatant, leaving a distance of two feet between the points of their
weapons. The standing ground to be drawn for by lots.

36. The swords must be measured to ascertain that they are of equal
length. In no instance must a sword with a sharp edge or a notch be
allowed.

37. The combatants will be requested to throw off their coats, and to
lay bare their breasts, to show that they do not wear any defence that
could ward off a thrust. A refusal to submit to this proposal is to be
considered a refusal to fight.

38. The offended party can always use his own weapons, if they are
considered of a description fitting the combat. If, on comparing arms,
the swords should be found to differ, the choice must be decided by
chance, unless the disproportion is of a material nature.

39. When the hand is wrapped up in a handkerchief, an end of it is not
to be allowed to hang down: should the party refuse to draw it up,
the seconds may insist that he throws it off altogether, and is only
allowed a sword-knot.[28] If fencing-gloves are allowed, and one party
declines their use, the other is not to be deprived of them; but, if
only one glove has been brought to the ground, it cannot be used.

40. When the combatants are on the ground, the seconds are to explain
to them all the stipulated arrangements, that they may not deviate from
them on the plea of ignorance. This being done, the signal of attack
is given in the word “Go” (_allez_); but, if before this signal, the
parties have already crossed swords, the signal is not necessary; but
the first who advanced without it is liable to censure.

41. The seconds shall hold a sword or a cane, bearing the point
downwards, and, standing close to each combatant, be prepared to stop
the combat the moment that the rules agreed upon are transgressed.

42. Unless previously stipulated, neither of the combatants shall be
allowed to turn off the sword of his adversary with the left hand:
should a combatant persist in thus using his left hand, the seconds of
his adversary may insist that the hand shall be confined behind his
back.

43. In a sword duel, the combatants are allowed to raise themselves, to
stoop, to vault to the right or to the left, and turn round each other.

44. When one of the combatants exclaims that he is wounded, or that a
wound is perceived by his second, the combat is to be stopped; with the
consent of the wounded man, the combat may be renewed.

45. If the wounded man, although the combat is ordered to be stopped,
shall continue to press upon his adversary with precipitation, this act
is tantamount to his desire to continue the conflict, but he must be
stopped and reprimanded. If, under similar circumstances, the combatant
that is not wounded continues to press on his antagonist, although
ordered to stop by the seconds, he must immediately be checked by them,
and considered as having infringed the stipulated rules.

46. When a second raises his sword or cane, it must be considered as
the signal to stop; in such cases, the other second shall cry out
“Stop,” when the parties must recede one step, still remaining in guard.

47. _In pistol duels_ the nearest distance should be _fifteen paces_.
The sight of the pistol should be fixed, and not more than fifteen
lines difference be allowed in the length the barrel: it is also
desirable that the barrel should not be rifled, and that the pistols
should be of a similar description.

48. The stand of each combatant to be decided by lot.

49. It is desirable that the same pair of pistols be used by both
parties.

50. The seconds shall load the pistols with the most scrupulous care,
and in the presence of each other. If one pair of pistols is used,
each second will use a similar charge, by allowing the other to try
the charge with a ramrod, or by loading in the presence of four
witnesses.[29]

51. The combatants must be placed on the ground by their respective
seconds; if thirty-five paces have been fixed upon, the offended party
has a right to the first fire; if only fifteen paces are marked, the
first fire must be decided by drawing lots.

52. The seconds have a right to ascertain that the principals do not
carry any defence about their persons. A refusal to submit to this
examination is to be considered as a refusal to fight.

53. The seconds of both parties shall stand together; having taken
their ground, they first command, “Make ready,” which is followed by
the word “Fire.”

54. A miss-fire is considered a shot, unless stipulation to the
contrary has been made.

55. If one of the party is wounded, he may fire upon his antagonist,
but not after the expiration of two minutes.

56. When both parties have fired without effect, the pistols are to be
reloaded in the same manner as before.

57. In the pistol duel _à volonté_, the seconds are to mark out the
ground, at a distance of thirty-five to forty paces; two lines are then
to be traced between these two distances, leaving an interval of from
twenty to fifteen paces. Thus each combatant can advance ten paces.

58. The ground being taken, one of the seconds, drawn by lot, gives the
word “March.”

59. The combatants then advance upon each other, if they think proper,
holding their pistols vertically while advancing; but they may level
the weapons and take aim on halting, although they may not fire at the
time, but continue to march on unto the line of separation marked with
a cane or a handkerchief, where they must stop and fire. But, although
one of the parties may thus advance to the limits, his antagonist
is not obliged to move on, whether he has received the fire of his
antagonist, or reserved his own.

60. The moment one of the combatants has fired, he must halt upon the
spot, and stand firmly to receive the fire of his adversary, who is
not, however, allowed more than one _minute_ to advance and fire, or to
fire from the ground he stands on.

61. The wounded party is allowed one minute to fire upon his antagonist
from the moment he is hit; but if he has fallen on the ground, he will
be allowed two minutes to recover.

62. In this form of duel, a pair of pistols may be allowed each
combatant; but this is only allowed when one of the parties has
received a blow.[30] In these cases, a pistol of a different pair
is to be given to each combatant. The affair cannot be considered
terminated, unless the four pistols have been discharged.

63. When four pistols are used, if one of the party is wounded, the
contest must cease, and the wounded man not be allowed to fire, as it
is evident that his antagonist, who might remain with a loaded pistol,
would have an unfair advantage over him in a cool deliberate fire.

64. When one of the parties is wounded, the affair must be considered
ended, even though the wounded party should express his wish to
proceed, unless the seconds consider him in a fit state to continue the
combat.

65. In the pistol duel called _à marche interrompue_, a distance of
forty-five or fifty paces is measured, and two lines are traced and
marked between the distance of fifteen to twenty paces. Thus the
combatants may advance fifteen paces.

66. On the word “March,” the combatants may advance in a _zigzag_ step,
not exceeding two paces. They may take aim without firing; and while
advancing stop when they choose, and advance again; but once having
fired, both parties must halt on the spot.

67. The combatant who has not fired, may now fire, but without
advancing; and the party who has fired, must firmly stand the fire of
his antagonist, who for that purpose is allowed half a minute; if he
allows a longer time to elapse, he must be disarmed by the seconds.

68. In the pistol duel, called _à ligne parallèle_, two parallel lines
are traced by the seconds fifteen paces from each other, and from
thirty-five to twenty-five paces in length.

69. The combatants are placed at the extremity of each line, fronting
each other.

70. The seconds stand behind their principals in a situation that may
not expose them to the fire of the parties. The signal is given by the
word “March.”

71. The combatants then advance, not upon each other, but in the
direction of the line that has been traced for them; and, therefore,
whether one of the adversaries has advanced or not, he will, find
himself placed at fifteen paces from the other.

72. The champion who fires must stop; but he may halt without firing,
take aim, and continue to advance.

73. In the pistol duel called _au signal_, the signal is to be given
by the second of the offended party by three claps on the hand, three
seconds being counted between each clap, which will take up nine
seconds; or two seconds, which will take up six seconds. In other
cases, the seconds draw lots for giving the signal.

74. The combatants, when they have received their arms, are to walk,
but keep the muzzles of the pistols pointing to the ground; at the
first signal they will raise their arms, take aim at the second
signal, and fire simultaneously at the third.

75. If one of the combatants fires before the third signal, or half a
second after it, he is to be considered as a dishonourable man, and,
if his antagonist is killed, an assassin; and if he fires before the
signal without effect, his opponent has a right to take as much time as
he thinks proper to level at him and shoot him.

76. If one of the parties has fired agreeably to the stipulated signal,
and his antagonist has dishonourably reserved his fire, it is the duty
of the seconds, _at all risk and peril_, to rush upon him and disarm
him. In this case, the party who had observed the rules has a right to
demand another duel of a different form.

77. The second who is to give the signal, should warn the combatants of
the nature of the signal, in a loud and audible voice, in the following
words: “Recollect, gentlemen, that honour demands that you should only
fire upon the third signal being given; that you are not to raise your
arm until the first signal, and not to fire until the third. I am now
going to give the signals, which will consist of three claps on the
hand.”

78. In _the duel with sabres_, the seconds should endeavour to have it
fought with short sabres, these arms being less fatal than the long
ones.

79. The ground taken, the antagonists are to be placed opposite each
other, at the distance of one foot from their sabre points.

80. In general these duels are fought with cuff-gloves; but, otherwise,
the parties may wrap a handkerchief round their hand and wrist,
provided that no end is allowed to hang down.

81. In regiments, the regimental sabre is to be the arm selected,
provided that they are of the same length, and mounted in the same
manner. The same precautionary steps are to be adopted as in a sword
duel, to ascertain that no defence is worn by either party.

82. The signal of “Allez” (Go) having been given, the combatants
advance on each other, and either give point or cut, vaulting,
advancing, or retreating at pleasure.

83. To strike an adversary when disarmed, to seize his arm, his body,
or his weapon, is a foul proceeding. A combatant is disarmed when his
sabre is either wrenched from him or dropped.

84. In _sabre_ duels in which the point of the arm is not to be used,
sabres without a point are to be chosen. To give point and kill an
adversary by the infringement of this rule, is to be considered an
assassination. These duels should always be considered terminated on
the first loss of blood.

       *       *       *       *       *

In addition to these regular duels, the French have what they
call _duels exceptionnels_; in which cases, which are of very rare
occurrence, the combat may take place either on foot or on horseback,
with carbine, musket, or pistol; but no one is obliged in honour to
accept such challenges, and the conditions of the combat are to be
specified in writing before it can take place.

In the combat on horseback the seconds are also to be mounted, and
the combatants placed at twenty-five paces’ distance from each other;
with the carbine, at sixty paces; with the musket and on foot, at one
hundred paces, and advance to sixty: the parties fire and reload at
will, until they reach the limits pointed out.

In many instances the French place the combatants back to back, to face
about and fire at the given signal.

Duels are occasionally fought in which only one pistol is loaded; in
which case it is no easy matter to procure a second. The following is
the murderous practice:--Arrived on the ground, the seconds of the
parties withdraw at least to a distance of fifty paces from the spot
fixed upon for the assassination. They load one pistol, but prime them
both; they then beckon the combatants to come for their pistols. The
second who is to load the weapons, and who has been selected by lot,
gives them to the other second, who places them in the hands of the
principals, the choice having been also decided by chance; the second
holding both pistols behind his back, and the parties crying _right_
or _left_. This being done, the two seconds who had delivered the
arms, and who are armed themselves, advance within three paces of the
combatants; the other seconds stand at a distance of twenty paces.

The seconds then read to the combatants the stipulation of the meeting,
and give to each of them the end of a handkerchief to hold, after
having made them strip off their coats, and ascertained that they wear
no defence.

The signal is given by one clap of the hand: if the party having the
unloaded pistol fires before the signal, or rather burns priming, his
adversary has a right to blow out his brains; but if the lucky drawer
of the loaded pistol fires before the signal, and kills his antagonist,
he is an assassin, and the seconds are bound to prosecute him before
the competent tribunals.

The French practise another mode of duelling with pistols, which may be
considered as less calculated to cause a fatal result. This they call
_Duel à marche non interrompue et à ligne parallèle_.

Arrived on the ground, two parallel lines of thirty-five paces in
length are traced at a distance of twenty-five paces: the standing is
drawn by lot, as well as the choice of arms, which must be unknown to
the parties. The combatants are then placed by their seconds at the
extremity of each line, facing each other. At the word “March,” the
combatants advance on the traced line; in following which they cannot
approach each other nearer than twenty-five paces. They are not allowed
to halt, but must advance simultaneously: they are also to fire without
stopping, and, after firing, to march on to the extremity of their
line. If one of the parties is wounded before firing, he has only
the time to fire which his opponent may take in reaching the limits
prescribed. If neither of the parties are hit, the duel must terminate
without further proceedings.

The preceding rules, which are founded upon long experience in this
fatal practice, have been sanctioned by twenty-five general officers,
eleven peers of France, and fifty officers of rank. The minister of
war, who could not consistently with his public duties affix his
signature to the document, gave his approbation in an official letter,
and the majority of the prefects equally sanctioned the regulation.




CHAPTER XVI.

FRENCH VIEWS OF THE CHARACTER AND DUTIES OF A SECOND, AND THE
EXPEDIENCY OF DUELLING.


In the choice of a second, if physical courage be a requisite quality,
and experience is equally desirable, a moral courage is still more
precious; for, even after the meeting, seconds may find themselves
vested with the character of a judge, and the avenging jurors of a
victim, if one of the parties has transgressed the adopted rules which
were to regulate the combat.

A second may be considered as the confessor of his friend, who places
an implicit reliance on his advice; he therefore can never divulge the
communications thus made to him. There are instances where an offended
person will urge his second to insist upon a hostile meeting; and not
unfrequently the principal may express a wish to avoid the dangers of
the conflict, provided his honour is not at stake. If such proposals
do not coincide with the second’s ideas of honour, he should withdraw;
but never divulge the secrets of the friend who unbosomed himself
in confidence, and avowed sentiments of revenge, hatred, or perhaps
pusillanimity.

While the second has the right to differ in opinion with the friend who
consults him, the offended person has also the unquestionable right to
thank him for his advice, which his feelings prompt him to decline.
It is therefore obvious that it is the duty of a second to weigh most
maturely the nature of the case, and to advise his friend to adopt the
same mode of proceeding which he himself would follow under similar
circumstances.

Frequently an apology is offered by a second. If it is considered
of a satisfactory nature, no disinclination should be manifested in
accepting it. This, however, should not be considered a rule; since,
in many cases, troublesome persons will wantonly offend, under the
impression that an apology will be sufficient to exempt them from
further responsibility.

It should be an established rule amongst seconds, never to allow a
duel to be fought between a debtor and creditor when the former is the
aggressor; and, in a quarrel arising from pecuniary affairs, the debtor
must liquidate his obligations before he can be allowed to peril his
creditor’s life. On these occasions the seconds must state in writing
their objections to the duel, to protect the character of the parties;
the case is different if it is the creditor who challenges the debtor.

Seconds should never allow their friends to fight with a
fencing-master, unless the latter has been struck by the aggressor.
With fencing-masters the pistol must be the chosen weapon.

Instances are known where the principals have expressed a desire
to load their own pistols; in such cases, when both parties have
acceded to the request, they are to prime and load in the presence of
the seconds of their adversaries, and the charge of powder is to be
determined.

It has been stated in the regulations, that two seconds may be
considered sufficient in a sword duel, but that four should be present
at a duel with pistol or sabre. The reason of this distinction arises
from the following circumstances: in case of a slight wound, which is
frequently inflicted by the sword, it is more probable that two seconds
will come to an amicable arrangement than four; and that, where there
is no minority of opinion, the particulars of the meeting will more
probably be kept secret in the interests of all parties: moreover,
the rules of a sword meeting are generally known and recognised.
With pistol or sabre the case is different, and the mode of fighting
varies materially: it therefore requires that a greater number of
persons should be present, to bear witness as to the fairness of the
transaction.

In a sword duel it should be stipulated whether the parties have a
right to turn off the weapon with the left hand; if this permission is
not granted, most unquestionably the act must not be allowed: but as a
combatant may mechanically, nay instinctively, use his left arm without
any dishonourable intention, it would be advisable that this mode of
parrying a lounge were permitted to both combatants.

In the selection of arms, it has been said, that a cripple who has
struck another person should be obliged to use the weapon which the
offended party has thought proper to name. This is but just; the
advantage would be on the side of the cripple, who, unable to use a
sword, has perhaps studied pistol practice; and a man who is able to
strike another must be considered able to hold a sword.[31]

When one of the parties is wounded, it is the imperative duty of the
seconds to stop all further hostility; but a combat should only be
stopped at the command of the seconds. Instances are on record where
one of the parties has exclaimed to the other, “You are wounded;” thus
throwing him off his guard, and availing himself of his perturbation to
press upon him. In such cases, if the verbal command of the seconds is
not sufficient to check the dishonourable combatant, it is their duty,
at all risk and peril, to rush upon him and forcibly disarm him; and it
is therefore desirable that seconds should be armed.

Now-a-days, seconds rarely provoke each other. Justice and urbanity
should be their guides; and, in the event of seconds differing, it
is always advisable to call in an arbiter, who should in general be
selected from amongst experienced and elderly military men.

It is of great importance that seconds should insist on a simultaneous
fire. A duellist makes the following calculation:--If I fire first,
and kill or severely wound my antagonist, I am rid of him: if I have
been unfortunate in the selection of arms, my antagonist very probably,
from motives of generosity, will not return the fire; for when a
man knows that he is safe, and that his fire, if it missed, would
only expose him to further danger, he will frequently be inclined to
terminate the affair; while, at the same time, a generous and brave
man feels a natural repugnance in firing at a defenceless person, and
will therefore feel disposed to fire in the air, or, what is more
conclusive, give up his pistol to his second, and he experiences a
sense of gratification in so doing, whether he is the aggressor or
the offended party. But although these generous sentiments, or these
prudential motives, may induce a principal not to return a fire if his
antagonist has fired before the signal, the latter becomes a criminal,
and the seconds are in duty bound to prosecute him; since it has been
already stated, that, if one of the parties fire before the appointed
signal, his adversary has the unquestionable right to take a deliberate
aim and blow his brains out. In such cases of dishonourable breach of
the stipulated arrangements, it would be desirable that the jury should
be guided by an established code, whether the treacherous combatant was
successful or not in the perfidious attempt to assassinate his opponent.

The duties of a second are of such vital importance, that a celebrated
fencing-master used frequently to say, “It is not the sword or the
pistol that kills, but the seconds.”

With the safeguard of these precautionary regulations, although
duelling is alike inconsistent with humanity and reason, there are many
French writers who still advocate its necessity; such is Jules Janin,
who speaks of it in the following terms: “The man is lost in the world
of cravens, who has not the heart to risk his life; for then, cowards,
who are numberless, affect courage at his expense. The man is lost
in this world, in which opinion is everything, who will not seek to
obtain a good opinion at the sword’s point. The man is lost in this
world of hypocrites and calumniators, who will not demand reparation
sword in hand for the calumnies and the malicious reports to which he
has been exposed. Slander stabs more keenly than steel; it crushes
with greater certainty than a pistol bullet. I would not wish to live
twenty-four hours in society, constituted as it is at present, without
the protection of the duel.

“A duel makes of every one of us a strong and an independent power, and
constitutes out of each individual life the life of all; it grasps the
sword of justice, which the laws have dropped, punishing what no code
can chastise,--contempt and insult. Those who have opposed duelling
are either fools or cowards; and those who have both condemned and
advocated the practice, are on both sides sophists and mendacious. It
is to duelling alone that we owe the remains of our civilization.”

The following are the opinions of Walsh on the same subject: “In
questions which appertain to our habits and customs, more wisdom will
be found in the drawing-room than in schools. The hand that can best
hold a sword will often be found to handle the pen with equal ability
when the terrible question of the point of honour and the duel is
discussed, a question which has cost France as much ink as blood.

“The honour of a gentleman tells him that he cannot expect from a
martial race a patience and endurance under insult which is foreign
to its character. The French will ever refer to the sword as to
their origin. When the executioner stands behind their adversary,
they are excited instead of being restrained, and dare a double
death. If we maturely weigh this matter, will it not be found that
a duel is the last vestige of that personal magistracy which social
magistracy gradually destroyed, but which it is sometimes called upon
to acknowledge? Duelling, so deplorable in many points of view, has
however been useful to our epoch; since it has preserved civilization
from the inroads of brutal vulgarity with which it was threatened
during our revolution, and the confusion of all grades. Let us appeal
to our conscience; and can we affirm that pugilism would not have
been introduced into our senate, had not duelling, as master of the
ceremonies of civilization, protected it from brutality?”

Chatelain’s remarks on this subject are also worthy of quotation: “It
is a long time since the controversy on duelling was exhausted: all
that has as yet resulted from the discussion is, that its adversaries
have triumphantly demonstrated the barbarity of the custom;
nevertheless, duelling has not been discontinued, but has, as in former
times, exercised its fatal influence, and levied from society an annual
tribute of blood and tears. Philosophy has exerted its best endeavours,
and has triumphed in the presence of reason; but receded before the
tyranny of prejudice, and the tenacity of custom. What resources, then,
are left to those who would still strive in the cause of humanity to
exert themselves further? The coercive influence of the law has been
found as ineffectual as the persuasive power of reason; how, then,
shall we stem the tide of opinion? For three centuries, legislation and
philosophy have been unsuccessful; therefore, since we must submit to
an irresistible evil, let us seek to limit its sphere of action. Let us
trace rules which shall not be infringed, and define the exigences of
the point of honour, by warning sensible men against an exaggeration of
susceptibility, and by determining on invariable rules the duties of
seconds, whose inexperience on these occasions may become so fatal, but
whose wisdom and firmness may in many cases prevent the most calamitous
results.”




CHAPTER XVII.

DUELS IN ITALY.


In the commencement of this work I have endeavoured to show that the
practice of duelling was unknown amongst the ancient Romans; for
although, as I have observed, various combats have been recorded
between individuals who had stepped out of the ranks of their army to
sustain the honour of their country, yet they cannot be considered in
the light of duels, as no private resentment or personal wrongs had to
be gratified or revenged. Such were the combats of Manlius Torquatus
and Valerius Corvinus.

It was after the irruption of the northern barbarians that these
savage hordes, after putting to the sword as many victims as they
could immolate, turned against each other their blood-stained arms;
and historians relate that, after the failure of the Goths in their
attack upon Rome in 405, upwards of thirty thousand of these barbarians
destroyed each other on their retreat. It was after the progress of
Christianity amongst these fierce invaders that these scenes of murder
gradually ceased to prevail, as appears by the following letter of
Theodoric to the rude tribes of Hungary.

“It is against the common enemy that you should display your valour,
and not against each other. A slight difference between you should
not lead you to such an extremity; but confide in that justice which
constitutes the joy and the tranquillity of the world. Why have
recourse to duels, when public officers are not venal, and the judges
in my dominions are incorruptible? Lay down your arms, since you have
no enemies to contend with. You commit a crime in raising your weapons
against relations for whom you should be proud to perish. And why use
an armed hand, when you have a tongue to plead your cause? Imitate
the Goths, who know how to conquer the foreigner, but who cultivate
moderation and peace amongst themselves.”

That this injunction was rendered necessary by the ferocity of the
tribes to whom it was addressed, appears evident from a manuscript
lately discovered at Cassel in Westphalia, in which was a fragment of a
poem, describing a duel between a father and a son under the reign of
Theodoric.

Notwithstanding the wise enactments of this prince, during the wars
of extermination that followed his reign these lamentable excesses
were renewed in all their horror; and in the annals of the Lombards we
find numerous traces of the prevalence of duelling, both in Cisalpine
Gaul and in Germany. According to the laws of Rotharis, single combat
was admitted as legal proof; and when a man had held the property of
another for five years, the latter could only claim its restitution
by a duel; and in litigation amongst women, they had the privilege of
naming a champion to dispute their rights.

One of the most celebrated duels of that country took place in 626, to
maintain the innocence of Queen Gundeberge, wife of Kharoald, King of
Lombardy, which I have already related.

In 668, Grimoald made some alteration in the laws of Rotharis; but
confirmed the right of women accused of an adulterous intercourse to
appoint a champion to defend their fame. In 713, Luitprand confirmed
the laws, but abrogated that part of them which confiscated the
property of the vanquished. The language of his edict showed clearly
that it was issued with repugnance:--“We are not convinced of the
justice of what is called the judgement of God, since we have found
that many innocent persons have perished in defending a good cause; but
this custom is of such antiquity amongst the Lombards, that we cannot
abolish it, _notwithstanding its impiety_.”

Charlemagne, who succeeded to the crown of Lombardy in 774, exerted
himself, both in France and Italy, to put an end to, or at least to
check the practice; and it was chiefly from the Italian nobility that
he met with opposition. In many instances we find the chivalrous spirit
of the day nobly exerted to repress depredations. In 807 we read of a
duel between a French knight-errant, De Medicis, and a bandit named
Mugel, who had ravaged a district of the Florentine state, which has
ever since been called _Mugello_.

When the Othos governed the Italian dominions, it was at the urgent
request of the Italian nobility, that Otho II, in an assembly at Verona
in 988, re-established the practice of duelling in all its vigour, not
even exempting from the obligation the clergy, or women; and while
personal combat had to decide between the guilty and the innocent,
trials by ordeal, similar to those already detailed, were constantly
resorted to. George Acropolites relates the case of an Italian
archbishop, who recommended one of his deacons to submit to the trial
by fire; to this the priest did not object, provided the red-hot iron
was handed to him by his diocesan, who then thought it advisable to
decline the ordeal on the plea that it was sinful to tempt God.

The progress of civilization in the rude manners of the times, which
resulted from the discovery of the pandects at Amalfi, did not prove
sufficiently powerful to check this ancient practice; and we find
Charles Tocco, a celebrated Neapolitan professor, maintaining that
the practice of duelling ought to be kept up, however condemnable in
principle.

During the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, the Italian press
teemed with works on the noble nature of the science of duelling,
which was held out to the admiration of the world in the most elegant
language, although in the eleventh century the establishment of
municipal corporations materially checked these chivalric excesses.
It was in the thirteenth century that we see Mainfroi, natural son
of Frederic II, murdering the Emperor Conrad, and killed in turn by
Charles d’Anjou, who usurped the throne of Conradin, a young prince
whom we find casting his gauntlet to defy the usurper, who ordered
his head to be struck off in a public square at Naples. A knight had
the boldness to take up the gauntlet, and carried it to Peter III,
King of Arragon, who avenged the death of Conradin by the massacre of
the Sicilian vespers, while he renewed the challenge of the ill-fated
prince, and defied Charles d’Anjou, although sixty years old, to single
combat: a challenge which was accepted, notwithstanding the King of
Arragon was only forty years of age. The personal conflict, however,
was avoided in the following manner:--Peter sent a message to Charles,
to settle the point with each other at the head of a hundred chosen
knights. Charles, despite the injunctions of the Pope, rashly accepted
the proposal, and our Edward I. appointed the field at Bordeaux, the
day being fixed on the 1st of July 1282. Trusting to the faith of
Peter, Charles raised the siege of Messina. The Pope fulminated his
anathema from the Vatican, and excommunicated the Arragonese prince,
who, however, treated his wrath with sovereign contempt. The day of
the meeting, Charles, faithful to his engagement, entered the field at
the head of his hundred knights, and remained there from sun-rise to
sunset, awaiting his adversary, who did not make his appearance until
Charles had retired, when, with true Spanish rodomontade, he galloped
and curveted over the field, and declared that he had not found his
craven antagonist.

It had been stipulated, that the defaulter in this meeting should be
branded with the name of traitor, and declared perjured, cowardly,
and eternally infamous, worthless of all regal title or honour, and
condemned for ever after to be merely followed by a humble menial.

It appears that Charles came to the lists with his uncle, Philippe le
Hardi, King of France; and it is to this circumstance that the conduct
of the King of Arragon was attributed. A paper war between the two
princes followed; and, as both treated their adversaries as cravens,
the merits of the cause were never fairly determined; while the learned
Alciat declared, _Dubitatum fuit utrius causa esset justior_.

From that period arose the endless differences between the houses of
Anjou and Arragon, regarding the succession to the Neapolitan crown.
The Arragonese having carried their point, Charles VIII. of France,
towards the latter end of the fifteenth century, as heir to Louis XI,
renewed the contest, and involved his successors in ruinous wars.

Louis I, head of the second house of Anjou, was duped in 1382 in the
same manner as his predecessor Charles, by Charles III, a challenge
having been mutually accepted,--in which case both parties upbraided
each other with falsehood. Louis appeared at the camp, when Charles
attacked his army by surprise, and Louis, severely wounded in the
treacherous conflict, shortly after died.

Naples, at this period, was the theatre of duelling; its practice
became a science regularly professed by celebrated teachers, as the
_Scienza Cavalleresca_, and Alberic Balbiano, constable of Naples,
instituted a military order, under the patronage of St. George, for
the due maintenance of this honourable pursuit. The knights of this
noble institution wandered about the country plundering and pillaging,
but ever ready to give _satisfaction_ to all who considered themselves
aggrieved. The _accollade_ of knighthood was accompanied by the
following injunction:--“The stroke of this sword is the last that you
shall patiently submit to.” In the practice of this science, dexterity
and cunning cuts and thrusts became accomplishments, and disarming an
adversary a high feat of honour, since it afforded the right to kill
the disarmed champion without further resistance or trouble.

Soon after, the bloody disputes between the Guelphs and the Ghibelins
afforded numerous opportunities for personal _rencontres_, when the
parties did not meet in battle array; but it is manifest, that at all
times Italian duels were attended with circumstances of ferocity and
treachery; and to avoid publicity, these meetings frequently took place
behind hedges and ditches, and in woods and solitary places; hence the
practice was called _combatere à la mazza_.

It appears that the practice bringing in seconds and witnesses, who
were to share the dangers of the principals, originated in Italy.
Brantôme relates the story of a Neapolitan gentleman who, being called
out, killed his antagonist; he was about leaving the field, when the
second of the deceased stopped him, and observed that he could not
allow him to depart until he had avenged his fallen friend. To this
proposal the gentleman very politely acceded, and killed him. Another
witness then stepped forward, and with much courtesy said, that if he
did not feel himself tired, he would be delighted to have a share in
the honour; and proposed, if fatigued, to postpone the meeting until
the following day. The gentleman was too urbane to disappoint him, and
replied, that he did not feel in the least tired; and as he was warm,
and his hand in, they might as well lose no time in gratifying his
fancy; in a few lounges the _amateur’s corpse_ was stretched by the
side of his two departed friends.

Brantôme makes the following remarks on this practice:--“I have heard
much talk on this matter, and have been informed by great Italian
captains, that they were the founders of these fights and their
punctilios, which were well known theoretically and practically.
The Spaniards resemble them, but are not so proficient in the art,
which now-a-days our Frenchmen practise in perfection. The Italians
are a little more cool and advised in this business than we are, and
somewhat more cruel. They have given as an instruction to those who
feel disposed to grant or to spare their adversary’s life, the glorious
opportunity of showing their generosity, by maiming their fallen foe,
both in his legs and arms, and moreover giving him a desperate cut
across the nose and face, to remind him of their condescension and
humanity.”

Most of the celebrated fencing-masters were Italians; and Brantôme
states, that Jarnac, previous to his fatal duel with La Chastaigneraye,
had taken lessons from an Italian captain, named Caise, who had taught
him the _hamstring cut_. These professors, it appears, were not very
particular in regard to the means employed to kill their _man_, which
they recommended to be done _in ogni modo_. Our pugnacious historian
farther relates that, when he was at Milan, he took fencing lessons
for a month, under a celebrated master, named Trappe; and during this
period not a day passed but he witnessed at least twenty _quadrilles_
of persons fighting in the streets, and leaving the dead bodies of
their adversaries on the pavement. There were numerous bravoes who let
themselves out to hire, to fight for those who did not feel disposed to
risk their own lives. The same practice prevailed in Spain. This mode
of fighting constituted the famed _Vendetta_; and the hired combatants
were called _Bandeleri_.

The practice of these scientific assassins appears to have been
singular; and we find Lampugnano, previous to his murdering Galeas
Maria Sforza, getting a portrait of his victim painted, and exercising
himself in stabbing it in various parts, until he found himself
sufficiently dexterous to kill him in church with seven mortal stabs.

In 1528, four Florentines fought in presence of the Prince of Orange,
when one of the combatants summoned his antagonist whom he had
overthrown to surrender; but the prostrate champion exclaimed, “I
surrender to the Prince!” “There is no other prince here but myself,”
replied his adversary; and with a dagger at his throat he compelled
him to submit.

In the expedition of the Duke de Guise, in 1557, under Henri II, a duel
was fought at Ferrara, in presence of the Duke Hercules d’Este, and his
brother the cardinal, in a hall of the palace, which was lighted up
with torches on the occasion.

The Prince of Melfe Caraccioli, who commanded the forces of Francis
I. from 1545 to 1550, issued many orders to check the practice of
duelling: one of them was to compel duellists to fight upon the parapet
of the bridge of Turin, so that the combatant who lost his equilibrium,
ran a fair chance of being drowned.

The Italian princes not unfrequently were engaged in murderous
quarrels, although it is related of Humbert II, the dauphin of
Viennois, that on receiving a challenge from Amédée, Count of Savoy,
he sent the following reply to his herald:--“My friend, tell your
master, that the virtues of a prince do not lie in corporeal strength;
but that if he is desirous of displaying his prowess, I have not a
bull in my possession that is not stronger than he is; if he wishes to
ascertain the fact, I shall have great pleasure in sending him one of
the fiercest.”

The town of Ostuni, in 1664, was rendered remarkable by one of the
most deadly family feuds recorded, and an extraordinary duel, in
which every principle of honour was violated. The Count de Conversano,
called also Duke de le Noci, of the family of Aquaviva, and the Prince
of Francavilla, of that of Imperiali, were the two most powerful lords
in Lower Apulia: the former boasted of his ancient descent and his
numerous titles, and numbered among his predecessors a succession of
nobles, whose tyrannical and violent disposition had designated them
as a race dreaded by their inferiors, and hated by their equals. The
Prince of Francavilla was of Genoese extraction, but his family had
been settled in the kingdom from the time of Charles V, and he emulated
the count in pride, while he surpassed him in wealth. Their territories
joined, and the constant litigations arising out of their inordinate
and ill-timed jurisdictions were thereby superadded to the long lists
of mutual injuries recorded by both families. Their animosity broke
out at Naples, on some trifling occasion, when they were both in their
carriages; and, after a long contest of words, the Count de Conversano
challenged the Prince of Francavilla to decide their differences by
the sword: the latter declined this mode of combat as ill-suited to
his age and infirmities, but consented to a duel if the arms might
be exchanged for pistols. His antagonist, who was esteemed the best
swordsman in the kingdom, insisted on his first proposal, and excited
the prince to accede to it, by striking him repeatedly with the flat
of his sword. An insult so grossly offered in the public streets,
authorized the government to check the consequences likely to arise, by
ordering both parties to retire to their respective estates. A short
time after, the Prince of Francavilla, thirsting for a just revenge,
proposed a champion to espouse his cause in the person of his nephew,
the Duke de Martina, of the house of Caraccioli. This young man was
but just returned from his travels, and his education had not been
completed; it was therefore agreed, that a year should elapse previous
to the final settlement of the dispute, and the field of battle was
fixed at Ostuni, the jurisdiction of which had been previously claimed
and disputed by both noblemen. The eyes of the whole kingdom were
directed with anxious and fearful expectation towards this spot; but
the wishes of the majority were in favour of the Duke de Martina,
whose youth, accomplishments, and amiable disposition, called forth
the interest of all ranks. His uncle, actuated more by fear of the
shame attendant on defeat, than by feelings of affection for his
relative, endeavoured to ensure success by the following stratagem:--A
gentleman who had been for some time, as was the custom in those days,
a retainer in his family, left it abruptly one night, and repaired to
the Count de Conversano’s castle, into which he gained admission by a
recital of injurious treatment and fictitious wrongs heaped upon him
by the tyrannical and arbitrary temper of the Prince de Francavilla.
A complaint of this nature was always a recommendation to the count’s
favour and good graces; and he not only admitted the gentleman into
the full enjoyment of his princely hospitality, but having found that
he was an experienced and dexterous swordsman, passed most of his time
in practising with him that art which he hoped would soon ensure his
triumph over his youthful adversary.

A few days previous to the one fixed for the duel, the guest, under
pretence of paying a visit to his relatives, withdrew from the Count of
Conversano’s castle, and secretly returned to his former lord, where
he lost no time in communicating to his nephew all the peculiarities
and advantages repeated experience had enabled him to remark in the
count’s manner of fencing. The Duke de Martina was thereby taught that
the only chance of success which he could look to, was by keeping on
the defensive during the early part of the combat: he was instructed,
that his antagonist, though avowedly the most able swordsman in the
kingdom, was extremely violent; and that, if his first passes could be
parried, his person, somewhat inclined to corpulency, would speedily
be exhausted from the effects of his impetuosity. The Duke de Martina,
furnished with this important advice, and strong in the conviction of
what he considered a just cause, waited in calm anxiety the day of
battle; and the behaviour of the two combatants on the last morning
strongly characterized their different dispositions, as well as the
manners and habits of the age they lived in. The duke made his will,
confessed himself, and took an affectionate leave of his mother, who
retired to her oratory to pass in prayer the time devoted to the
conflict, while the Count Conversano ordered a sumptuous feast to be
prepared, and invited his friends and retainers after the fight. He
then carelessly bade his wife farewell; and, brutally alluding to
his adversary’s youth and inexperience, remarked, “_Vado a far un
capretto_,”--“I am going to kill a kid.”

The parties met at the place appointed. It was an open space, before
a monastery of friars, at Ostuni; but these good fathers, by their
intercessions and prayers, prevailed upon the combatants to remove
to another similar spot of ground, in front of the Capuchin convent,
in the same town. Here the bishop and clergy, carrying the host in
solemn procession, attempted in vain to dissuade them from their bloody
purpose; they were dismissed with scorn, and the duel began.

The conflict was of long duration, and afforded the duke an opportunity
of availing himself of the counsels he had received: when he found
the count began to be out of breath, and off his guard, he assumed
the offensive, and, having wounded him, demanded if he was satisfied,
and proposed to desist from any further hostility; but, stung to the
soul by this unexpected reverse, he proudly rejected all offers of
accommodation; actuated by blind revenge and redoubled animosity he
soon lost all command of himself, and received a second wound, which
terminated the contest together with his life.

It appeared afterwards that the Prince de Francavilla, whose principles
were as little honourable as those of his adversary, and whose thirst
of revenge was no less insatiable, had appointed a band of bravoes to
waylay and murder him on his way home, had he been victorious.

When Marshal de Crequi carried the Fort des Barreaux, commanded by
Philippin, natural brother of the Duke of Savoy, the latter escaped
with great difficulty, by exchanging his dress for the uniform of a
common soldier, with whom he left a lady’s scarf which he had worn. The
following day, a truce having been demanded to bury the dead, Crequi
sent word by the officer who bore it, to advise Philippin to be more
careful for the future of his lady’s gifts; upon which Philippin sent a
challenge to the French general, which he accepted, but his adversary
was prevented from attending the meeting by the duke his brother. The
following year, Crequi having been made a prisoner, the challenge
was renewed, when Philippin was wounded in the thigh. The Duke of
Savoy, offended at the thought that his brother should owe his life to
Crequi’s forbearance, insisted upon another meeting, in which Philippin
was killed, or, to use the expressive language of D’Audiguier,
“Crequi ran him through the body, and _stitched him_ to the ground.”
Crequi’s friends exclaimed, “Kill him! kill him!” while Philippin’s
second begged for his life, which Crequi would only grant at his own
supplication; this, however, was a difficult matter, as the unfortunate
man was already dead.

Not only were the duels in Italy remarkable for the treacherous acts
of its combatants, but similar breaches of good faith and honour were
observed in their tournaments and passages of arms. In one instance a
tournament took place between twelve Frenchmen and twelve Italians, in
which many of the latter were dismounted, when they crept in between
the other champions, and with their stilettoes stabbed the horses of
the French knights. This perfidious conduct is related by Guicciardin.

Beccaria accounts for the frequency of duelling in Italy on the
following grounds:--“It was owing to the necessity of the good opinion
of others, that single combat was resorted to during a state of legal
anarchy. It was in vain that this practice was forbidden under pain
of death; it was found impossible to check a custom founded upon
sentiments which were considered dearer than life. Why do not the lower
classes of society imitate the conduct of their superiors? Simply
because they stand in less need of the esteem of others, than those
who, from their position, are subject to more suspicion and distrust.”

Filangieri follows up the argument, by maintaining, that in a duel, it
is a _dolo_ (a _ruse_) on the part of the aggressor, and a _fault_ on
the part of the offended, if he kills or injures his enemy, as very
probably he might have avoided such a catastrophe; the offended party
has only committed a _fault_, since he was compelled to fight by public
opinion: it is, therefore, only those who have violated the established
laws of duelling, who can be considered as guilty of assassination. The
sophistry of this doctrine is worse than absurd.

The history of Italy shows us, that Beccaria’s opinions on the subject
were not exactly correct, for, while the upper classes challenged each
other to single combat, we find other grades of society, even artists,
avenging their wrongs with the stiletto. From this charge, we must,
however, exonerate Michael Angelo Caravaggio, who, to avenge the
insult offered to him by Arpino, who had presumed to criticise some of
his productions, sent him a challenge, which was rejected on the plea
of disparity of condition; when our artist, to qualify himself for
future occasions of the kind, went over to Malta and got himself dubbed
a knight. With this distinction, it appears that he sought endless
quarrels, was obliged to fly from Malta, and killed a critic in Rome,
finally ending his days in abject poverty on the high-road.

It may be easily imagined that, from the constant revolutions to which
Italy was exposed, the clashing interests and consequent altercations
amongst its petty principalities, and the long-protracted wars the
country had to wage against France and Spain, disputes and sanguinary
frays must have been very frequent, and that, from the want of power,
treachery was often resorted to. Convulsed by intestine discord,
exposed to foreign hostility, suspecting the good faith of their
allies, and oppressed by their various masters,--intrigue among the
Italians became indispensable, and assassination was safer than open
vengeance. We need not, therefore, be surprised that the policy of
Machiavel should have been considered a national code; and in these
weak states, we find that the stiletto was the weapon of diplomacy, as
well as of popular animosity. In the cabinet, assassination became a
science, in the streets it was an art; and more elaborate works have
been written on duels, satisfaction of wounded honour, and the various
qualifications of murder, by Italians, than by the natives of any
other country.[32] There does not exist a more consuming and ardent
passion, than an impotent thirst of revenge for injuries inflicted by
those whose power we dread, and whose position is such as to place them
beyond the reach of legal pursuit and of justice. Assassination in such
a state of society becomes a natural impulse, when the wrongs of power
drive the weak and the helpless to actual madness. It is therefore
unfair to stigmatize a nation with the brand of cowardice, from the
prevalence of this blood-thirsty practice. It is simply the result of
a bad government, corrupted nobility, and a culpable or inefficient
magistracy, when crimes may be considered as an unavoidable catenation
between causes and effects; and there can be no doubt that the
prevalence of duelling and gambling amongst the great, and of thieving
amongst the lower orders, will lead to assassination.

In viewing the nature of the governments in the various states of
Italy, it may not be uninteresting to discover in which of them the
practice of duelling was most general. In the Roman states they were
rare; at Naples much more frequent. In Piedmont and Savoy personal
meetings were seldom heard of, more especially since the French
occupation; previously to which, the professors and students at the
universities were in the habit of wearing swords. Yet hostile meetings
occasionally take place amongst the military, engendered by disputes
at balls and by love matters. The same may be said of Sardinia, where
duelling is confined to the troops, and an officer is placed in a
situation somewhat similar to that of our own army. If he is insulted,
and does not demand satisfaction, he is expelled by his corps; and, if
he fights, he is sentenced to an imprisonment of three or six months
in a fort called the _Fenestrellas_. In Corsica a bloody spirit of
vengeance is generally prevalent, and gave rise to that system of
murder called the _vendetta_, which is frequently resorted to amongst
its savage mountaineers. In these desperate excesses whole families
and clans indulged, and regular challenges were interchanged. These
hostile declarations were followed by every kind of atrocious acts;
and constant ambuscades, combats, burning of houses, destruction of
property, and slaughter even of infants, were incessantly disturbing
the public peace. These intestine broils were only terminated by
treaties of peace between the parties, regularly drawn out, and
registered in the archives of Ajaccio.

These excesses, at the present time, are less frequently committed; but
private feuds are still decided by assassination, when the murderer
generally escapes by taking to the woods and mountains, and there
proscribed, he is called a _bandetto_. When taken and condemned,
national prejudice absolves him from punishment as an _honorato_. In
such a ferocious state of society duelling is a practice unknown; and
the man who would assassinate his enemy without remorse, would scorn to
commit a theft. It is in vain that courts of justice have endeavoured
to check these barbarous deeds; in a late case of _vendetta_, the
murderer having been acquitted, the son of the deceased, who was a
magistrate, exclaimed, “The jury have acquitted thee, but I condemn
thee to death.” It is needless to add, that the sentence was soon
carried into execution.

Italian customs prevailed in the island of Malta, and duels were
frequent amongst the knights of that order, although prohibited by
most of the grand masters. The _Strada Stretta_ was the spot in which
these meetings usually took place, and the friends of the combatants,
stationed at each end of the narrow lane, prevented them from being
disturbed. Assassinations at one time were so frequent in this
quarter, that an edict was issued, denouncing the penalty of death on
every person who was found in it armed with pistols or daggers. But,
by a singular regulation of the order, every person was obliged to
return his sword into the scabbard when ordered to do so by a _woman_,
a _priest_, or a _knight_. A cross was usually painted on the wall,
opposite the spot where a knight had been killed, to commemorate his
fall, and claim the prayers of those who passed by, to relieve his soul
from purgatory.

Although the statutes of the order of St. John of Jerusalem prohibited
duels, yet a knight was considered disgraced if he refused to accept a
challenge. A case is recorded of two knights, who having had a dispute
at a billiard-table, one of them, after much abusive language, struck a
blow; but, to the surprise of all Malta, after so gross a provocation,
refused to fight his antagonist. The challenge was repeated, but still
he refused to enter the lists. He was therefore condemned by the
chapter to make an _amende honorable_ in the church of St. John for
forty-five successive days, then to be confined in a dungeon without
light for five years; after which he was to remain a prisoner in the
castle for life.

A very curious duel took place at Valetta between a Spanish
commander, of the name of Vasconcellos, and a French commander, M.
de Foulquerre, the latter having had the insolence to present some
holy water to a young lady entering a church, whom the Castilian was
following. Foulquerre was one of the most noted disturbers of the
Strada Stretta; and, although he had been engaged in many duels, on
this occasion he repaired to the rendezvous with some reluctance,
as though he anticipated the result of the meeting. As soon as his
adversary appeared, he said, “What, sir, do you draw your sword upon a
Good Friday! Hear me:--it is now six years since I have confessed my
manifold sins, and my conscience reproaches me so keenly, that in three
days hence----.” But the Spaniard would not attend to his request,
and pressed upon him; when his opponent, mortally wounded, exclaimed,
“What! on a Good Friday! May Heaven forgive you! Bear my sword to _Tête
Foulques_, and let a hundred masses be said for the repose of my soul,
in the chapel of the castle.”

The Spaniard paid no attention to the dying man’s request, and
reported the circumstance to the chapter of the order, according to
the prescribed rules; nevertheless he was promoted to the priory of
Majorca. On the night of the following Friday, he dreamt that he was in
the Strada Stretta, where he again heard his enemy enjoin him to “bear
his sword to _Tête Foulques_;” and a similar vision disturbed his
slumbers every succeeding Friday night.

Vasconcellos did not know where this _Tête Foulques_ was situated,
until he learned from some French knights, that it was an old castle
four leagues from Poitiers, in the centre of a forest remarkable
for strange events; the castle containing in its halls many curious
collections, amongst which was the armour of the famed knight _Foulques
Taillefer_, with the arms of all the enemies he had slain in single
combat; and from time immemorial, it appeared that all his successors
deposited in this armoury the weapons which they used either in war or
in private contests.

Our worthy prior having received this information, determined to obey
the injunction of the deceased, and set out for Poitiers with the sword
of his antagonist. He repaired to the castle, where he found no one but
the porter and the chaplain, and communicated to the latter the purport
of his visit. He was introduced into the armoury, and on each side of
the chimney he beheld full-length, portraits of Foulques Taillefer, and
his wife, Isabella de Lusignan. The seneschal was armed _cap-a-pié_,
and over him were suspended the arms of his vanquished foes. The
Spaniard, having laid down the sword, proceeded to tell his beads with
great devotion until nightfall, when he fancied that he saw the eyes
and mouths of the seneschal and his wife in motion; and he distinctly
heard the former addressing his wife, saying, “What dost thou think,
my dear, of the daring of this Castilian, who comes to dwell and eat
in my castle, after having killed the commander without allowing him
time to confess his sins?”--to which the lady replied in a very shrill
voice, “I think, Messir, that the Castilian acted with disloyalty
on that occasion, and should not be allowed to depart without the
challenge of your glove.” The terrified Spaniard sought the door of
the hall, but found it locked, when the seneschal threw his heavy
iron gauntlet at his face, and brandished his sword. The Spaniard,
thus compelled to defend himself, snatched up the sword that he had
deposited, and falling on his fantastic antagonist, fancied that he had
run him through the body, when he felt a stab from a burning weapon
under the heart, and fainted away. When he recovered from his swoon, he
found himself in the porter’s lodge, to which he had been carried, but
free from any injury. He returned to Spain; but ever after, on every
Friday night, he received a similar burning wound from the visionary
Taillefer; nor could any act of devotion, or payment of money to friars
or priests, relieve him from this horrible phantom.




CHAPTER XVIII.

ON DUELLING IN SPAIN.


Great events frequently arise from trifling causes; and it is
possible, that had Count Julian challenged the Goth Roderic for having
dishonoured his daughter, instead of requesting the aid of the Moors,
Spain would not have been for eight centuries under the yoke of the
infidels. At this period of the peninsular history duelling was
unknown, although it is to the Arabs that some writers have attributed
the institution of chivalry; and, most unquestionably, the poem of
Antar may be considered a recital of chivalric deeds and adventures, as
romantic as any record of knight-errantry or tournament. This curious
work was the production of Asmaï the grammarian, reader to the famed
Kalif Aroun-al-Raschid, and appears to have been written about the year
800. The hero of this romance always fights on horseback; his steed is
named _Abjer_, his resistless sword _Dhamy_; and the loves of _Khaled_
and _Djaïda_ are certainly as whimsical and adventurous as those of
any couple in the palmy days of chivalry. It is more than probable
that many more chivalric tales would have been found amongst the Moors,
had not Cardinal Ximenes ordered all their religious works to be
burnt, after the taking of Cordova, when the soldiery destroyed every
MS. they could find. Few of these valuable documents were preserved;
and those that are now in the Escurial relate chiefly to grammar,
astrology, and theology. Florian has given the following opinion of
the Moors:--“A gallantry, delicate and refined, rendered the Moors of
Grenada celebrated over Europe, and formed a strange contrast with
the natural ferocity of the African races. These Mussulmans, who in
the battle prided themselves on their dexterity in cutting off heads,
which they suspended at their saddle-bows, to exhibit them afterwards
at the gates of their palaces, were the most tender, impassioned, and
devoted lovers. Their wives, although in a servile condition, became
absolute sovereigns when they were beloved. It was to please them that
they sought for glory, and exposed their lives, rivalling each other
in the magnificence of their festivals and their deeds of valour. Was
this strange anomaly of mildness and ferocity, of delicate feelings
and cruelty, transmitted from the Spaniards to the Moors, or did the
former imbibe these mingled sentiments from their infidel invaders?
This is uncertain: one can only remark, that such a mixed character
was unknown in Asia, the birth-place of these Arabs, and is still less
observed in Africa, where their conquests naturalized them. From this
circumstance I am disposed to think that it was due to the Spaniards.
In fact, subsequent to the Moorish invasion, the court of the Kings of
the Goths exhibited various instances of this disposition. After this
period, we see the knights of Leon, of Navarre, and of Castile, as
renowned for the ardour of their love, as for their deeds of arms; and
the name of the Cid must recall vivid recollections of tenderness and
of valour.”

The celebrated combat between four Spanish knights and four Arabs of
the tribe of Zegris, the implacable foes of the Abencerrages, has
been the subject both of poetical fiction and historical record. This
meeting was to vindicate the honour of the Sultana Zoraide, accused by
the Zegris of an adulterous intercourse with Aben Hamet. The indignant
husband had decapitated the offender, and exiled the Abencerrages.
Zoraide was condemned to the stake, unless some champion came forward
to maintain her innocence. Juan Chacon, of Carthagena, answered the
appeal of honour, and, accompanied by three other knights, appeared in
the square of Grenada in front of the Alhambra, and in presence of the
whole court. The beautiful princess was covered with a black veil, and
placed on a scaffold, round which were heaped the faggots that were to
consume her, in the event of her champions being conquered; but they,
fortunately for her, overthrew their infidel antagonists, and proved
her innocence.

In 1491 a young Spaniard fought and killed a Moor, when Ferdinand, as a
reward of his valour, authorised him to bear as his motto the letters
of the _Ave Maria_; and Roderic Telles, grand master of Calatrava, was
renowned for his many combats with the infidels. The annals of Spanish
valour abound with instances of duelling, which was sanctioned and even
encouraged by various laws, more especially in Castile and Aragon.

It appears that in 1165 the King and council of Aragon abolished the
practice; yet, in 1519, we find it to have been so frequent, that
Charles V. issued an edict to forbid it. Nor can we be surprised at
the state of barbarism in which Spain was involved: the continued
incursions of the Moors, the undisciplined state of the troops, without
pay or provisions, and the incessant feuds, not only between the nobles
and their sovereigns, but amongst each other and their vassals, must
have occasioned constant tumult and discord. Society was not secured
by any pact; and rude passions alone dictated the actions of these
unruly barbarians, for such, despite their affectation of gallantry,
they must be called. The unfortunate inhabitants, exposed to these
continued depredations, were obliged to incorporate themselves into
military bodies, to protect life and property; and we find in 1260 they
had assembled in a brotherhood, under the protection of their saints,
forming what was called the _Santa Hermandada_, a corps which gradually
dwindled into a paid police force, resembling the _maréchaussée_
and _gendarmerie_ of France. The immortal author of Don Quixote
often refers to this military jurisdiction, which in reality mainly
contributed to put an end to the atrocities that were daily committed;
and it was chiefly during the reign of Ferdinand the Catholic that
these excesses were restrained.

Not unfrequently was religion mixed up with these ferocious broils; and
we find the founder of the order of the Jesuits, Loyola, offering to
fight a Moor who denied the Divinity of the Saviour. In the council of
Pennafiel, in 1302, it had been found necessary to prohibit challenges
being sent to bishops or canons; a prohibition renewed in 1669. In
Portugal duelling was punished by transportation to Africa, with
confiscation of goods and chattels; and in that country duels to the
present day are very rare, and considered a deadly sin. Subjects of
dispute are carried before a competent tribunal, and the complaint
is called _querelar_; when the parties are ordered to enter into
security for keeping the peace, and are bound _bene vivere_. Not long
since, when the Portuguese court was at Brazil, the Count Linhares
had offended in a ball-room the Marquis de Lavradro, who sent him a
message; but Linhares having fallen from his horse, the offended party
felt satisfied and withdrew the challenge. Gaston de Camara, since
Count Paypa, had offended in a sonnet Castello Branco, son of the
Marquis de Bellari: a meeting took place, and the poet was wounded;
but such meetings, both in Spain and Portugal, are very uncommon. In
the late disastrous conflict between Carlists and Christinos, the
challenge sent by General O’Donnel to the Christino Brigadier Lopez was
considered a singular event. The chivalric bombast of this challenge is
worthy of record, and highly illustrative of the Spanish character:--

“The cavalry of Don Carlos ardently desires to measure itself with
that of Donna Christina; but, as the results of battles are uncertain
from position, or from the number of the combatants, let us, chiefs
of party, imitate the knights of old, and select an equal number of
warriors who, sword in hand, will decide the question by their sheer
valour. On my side, I swear upon my honour not to bring into the field
a greater number of combatants than shall be agreed upon. Trusting
that my enemy will follow my example, I salute all my numerous friends
and former companions who now serve in the Christino ranks, wishing
them every prosperity, excepting in battle, for I know no enemy save
those I meet in the field.”

This challenge was accepted by the Christino general, who issued the
following order of the day:--“I merely wait to know the appointed
ground, to lead you into the conflict. Death is a noble reward to all
those who feel Spanish blood flowing in their veins; and you will find
your commander at the head of this romantic duel.” It is needless to
add, that this gasconading did not even end in smoke.

Notwithstanding the barbarous nature of duels, they are rarely resorted
to by ferocious nations, who prefer the more certain revenge that
assassination affords. There is a civilization and an honourable
bearing in a duel, foreign to the Spanish character; and it cannot be
expected that men capable of murdering women can meet a brave adversary
in single combat, governed by the laws of honour. What can be thought
of a nation whose generals issued orders to put any surgeon to death
who had been known to dress the wounds of an enemy? It is painful to
reflect, that after the events of June in 1833, the French police
issued an order nearly as barbarous to all medical men, to send in the
names of the wounded they had been called upon to dress. Frederic the
Great had also issued an edict in which surgeons were prohibited from
attending any person wounded in a duel!




CHAPTER XIX.

DUELS IN GERMANY AND THE NORTH OF EUROPE.


During the middle ages Germany was desolated by feuds and hostile
meetings, which had succeeded the barbarous excesses committed by the
savage hordes poured forth from the northern woods and fastnesses that
sheltered the descendants of the ancient Scythians and Sarmatians. The
Scandinavian traditions of the wonderful deeds of their champions may
prove interesting to the lovers of fiction, but they are of little
importance to the historian; for, although the sages of Iceland
abolished duelling after the fatal meeting that took place between the
poets Gunnlang and Rafn for the beautiful Helga, in which both lovers
fell, the annals of the north are fraught with the poetic details of
numerous single combats and wondrous exploits.

By an ancient law of Sweden, if a man told another that he was inferior
to any other man, or had not the heart of a man, and the other replied,
“I am as good a man as yourself,” a meeting was to follow. If the
aggressor came to the ground, but did not find the offended, the latter
was to be considered dishonoured, and held unfit to give testimony in
any cause, and deprived moreover of the power to make a will. But if,
on the other hand, the insulted party came forward, and the offending
party did not make his appearance, the former was to call him aloud
by name three times, and, if he did not appear, make a mark upon the
ground, when the offender would be held as infamous and false. When
both parties met, and the offended was killed, his antagonist had to
pay a half compensation for his death; but, if the aggressor succumbed,
his fate was to be attributed to temerity and an unguarded expression,
therefore his death called for no compensation. In Norway, any
gentleman who refused satisfaction to another was said to have _lost
his law_, and could not be admitted as evidence upon oath. According
to the Danish laws, it was held that force is a better arbiter in
contestations than words; and in the judicial combats, which frequently
arose on the slightest provocation, no champion was allowed to fight
in the cause of another, however feeble or unskilled in arms he might
be: women were not even allowed a proxy to defend them, but obliged to
defend their honour personally. In such cases, to afford the woman a
better chance, the man who had offended her was obliged to get into a
pit up to his waist, by which means his Amazonian opponent could wheel
round him and strike him on the head with a sling or a leather thong to
which was suspended a heavy stone; the male combatant was armed with a
club, and if he missed her three times, or struck the ground instead of
her, he was declared to be vanquished.

The Scandinavian combatants frequently selected small islands for their
meetings, to prevent either of the parties from fleeing; these islands
were called _Holms_, and the duels _Holms-gang_. Sometimes a hide
seven ells long was spread upon the ground; at others, the lists were
enclosed by circular stakes, or marked off with stones, to circumscribe
their limits: whoever stepped beyond this barrier, or was beaten out
of the circle, was considered conquered. The _kamping matches_ of our
Norfolk and Suffolk peasantry are traces of these exercises, which were
called _kempfs_.

In Sweden, gentlemen fighting a duel were sentenced to death, and the
memory of the deceased declared infamous. On other occasions, when the
meeting had not proved fatal, the parties were condemned to two years’
imprisonment on bread and water, and obliged to pay a heavy fine.

Under the reign of Gustavus II, a contemporary of Louis XIII. of
France, the fashion of duelling was at its height; and this monarch
had prohibited single combat by the most severe edicts, but to no
purpose. It is related of this prince, that, having heard that two
officers of his army contemplated a meeting, he preceded them on the
ground. On the arrival of the parties, they were not a little surprised
to find the King: they were about to withdraw, when Gustavus pointed
to a gallows, at the foot of which stood the hangman, and added, “Now,
gentlemen, you may proceed.”

It is also related of Gustavus Adolphus, that having had a dispute at
one of his reviews with Colonel Seaton, an officer in his service, he
gave him a blow. As soon as the troops were dismissed, the officer
waited upon the King and demanded his discharge, which the sovereign
signed; and the colonel withdrew without a word being said on the
subject of the quarrel.

Gustavus, however, on coolly considering the matter, reproached himself
for his want of temper; and hearing that Seaton intended to set out
for Denmark the next day, followed him, attended by an officer and two
or three grooms. When his Majesty reached the Danish frontier, he left
all his attendants, except one, and overtaking Seaton on a large plain,
said to him, “Dismount, sir. That you have been injured, I acknowledge,
and I am now come to give you the satisfaction of a gentleman; for,
being now out of my own dominions, Gustavus and you are equal. We have
both, I see, swords and pistols; alight immediately, and receive the
satisfaction which your wounded honour demands.”

Seaton, recovering from his surprise, dismounted, as the King had
already done, and falling on his knees, said “Sire, you have more than
given me satisfaction, in condescending to make yourself my equal. God
forbid, that my sword should do any mischief to so brave and gracious
a prince. Permit me to return to Stockholm, and allow me the honour to
live and die in your service.” The King raised him from the ground,
embraced him, and they returned together to his capital.

The early annals of Germany afford many curious instances of trials by
ordeal; but, perhaps, one of the most romantic was in the case of Maria
of Aragon, consort of Otho III, and the Messalina of her time. It is
related of her, that she generally went abroad with a youth disguised
in female attire, who was afterwards buried alive. Having become
desperately enamoured of a count of Modena, who rejected her addresses,
she accused him with having attempted to seduce her. The count was
allowed to prove his innocence by the trial of battle; but, having been
vanquished, was sentenced to lose his head. Prior to his execution he
acquainted his wife with the particulars of his unfortunate case, and
enjoined her to avenge his death. She, faithful to his last request,
took the bloody head, and, placing it under the cloak of one of her
followers, proceeded to the court; then, presenting the gory head to
the sovereign, she demanded justice. Otho, struck with horror at the
appalling sight, asked her what she wanted, and of whom she had to
complain. “Of you, Cæsar,” was her reply; “you behold the result of a
most iniquitous deed, and I am ready to submit myself to the ordeal of
fire, to prove the innocence of my unfortunate husband.” The Emperor
consented, and a brazier with a red-hot iron bar was brought forward.
The tradition states that the countess seized the iron without dismay
or injury; when, addressing the Emperor, she demanded _his_ head, since
he had been found guilty of the death of an innocent man. The prince,
however, as might be expected, demurred at this proposal, but ordered
his guilty wife to be burned alive; a sentence that was carried into
execution at Modena, in 998. The Empress of Henry II, the beautiful
Cunegonde, was equally fortunate in handling red-hot bars of iron when
accused of having been criminally connected with the devil, who was
seen coming out of her bed-chamber every morning. Baronius, in his
Ecclesiastic Annals, asserts that she handled the burning metal like
a nosegay. Gunehilde, wife of Henry III, and daughter of our Canute,
was also very lucky in the choice of a champion when basely accused of
infidelity. Her accuser was a gigantic man of the name of Rodinger;
but she selected for her defender a little boy, whom she had brought
from England, and who miraculously cut the hamstrings of his colossal
antagonist.

Amongst the curious records of these barbarous and fabulous times, an
edict of Frederick II. forbade his nobles from fighting, plundering
travellers, and circulating base coin, which had been considered a
privilege of feodality; and in his Sicilian and Neapolitan constitution
he exempted his subjects from the necessity of accepting a challenge.

In more modern times, various enactments, called _duell mandates_, have
forbidden duels. In 1779, one was issued in Bavaria, which punished
a challenge with the loss of office, if the parties held a public
situation; if otherwise, with a confiscation of property, and an
imprisonment of three years: but, when a duel had actually taken place,
the parties were condemned to death.

In the Austrian states, by an edict of 1803, a duel is punished by
an imprisonment of from one year to five: if one of the parties is
wounded, the confinement is from five to ten years; and, when death
ensues, from ten to twenty; and the remains of the deceased are not
allowed sepulture in consecrated ground. The seconds are also subject
to an incarceration of from one to five years. A penal code somewhat
similar exists in Prussia.

An anecdote is related of Joseph II, who, having been informed that one
of his officers had slapped the face of another, sent for both parties.
The following day, on parade, the Emperor appeared on the balcony of
his palace with the offended person, whom he cordially embraced; at
the same time, a scaffold was erected, on which the public executioner
slapped the face of the offender, who was afterwards conveyed to a
fortress.

The following letter from this monarch, exhibits the sentiments he
entertained on the practice of duelling.

“GENERAL,

“I desire you to arrest Count K---- and Captain W---- immediately. The
count is of an imperious character, proud of his birth, and full of
false ideas of honour. Captain W----, who is an old soldier, thinks of
settling everything by the sword or the pistol. He has done wrong in
accepting a challenge from the count. I will not suffer the practice
of duelling in my army; and I despise the arguments of those who seek
to justify it. I have a high esteem for officers who expose themselves
courageously to the enemy, and who, on all occasions, show themselves
intrepid, valiant, and determined in attack as well as in defence. The
indifference with which they face death is honourable to themselves
and useful to their country; but there are men ready to sacrifice
everything to a spirit of revenge and hatred. I despise them. Such men,
in my opinion, are worse than the Roman gladiators. Let a council of
war be summoned to try these two officers, with all the impartiality
which I demand from every judge; and let the most culpable of the two
be made an example by the rigour of the law. I am resolved that this
barbarous custom, which is worthy of the age of Tamerlane and Bajazet,
and which is so often fatal to the peace of families, shall be punished
and suppressed, though it should cost me half my officers. There will
be still left men who can unite bravery with the duties of faithful
subjects. I wish for none who do not respect the laws of the country.

  “JOSEPH.”

  “Vienna, August 1771.”

       *       *       *       *       *

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.

Madame de Staël’s observations on duelling in Germany are worthy
of remark:--“Germany, if we except some courts anxious to imitate
the manners of the French, was never assailed by that infatuation,
immorality, and incredulity, which, since the regency, had changed the
natural character of the French. Feudality still maintained in Germany
some of its chivalric maxims: duels occasionally took place, but they
were not so frequent as in France; for the Germans do not possess the
same vivacity and petulance as the French nation, nor do they partake
of the same notions of courage, public opinion being much more severe
on the want of probity and fair dealing. If a man had transgressed the
laws of morality, ten duels a day would not have enabled him to recover
the esteem he had forfeited. In France we constantly see persons of
distinguished rank, who, when accused of an improper action, will say,
“It may have been wrong, but no one will dare assert it to my face!”
Such an expression is an evident proof of confirmed depravity; for what
would be the condition of society, if it was only requisite to kill one
another, to commit with impunity every evil action,--to break one’s
word and assert a falsehood, provided no one dared tell you that you
had lied?

“The spirit of chivalry still reigns amongst the Germans,--but
passively. They are incapable of deceit, and in every transaction act
with loyalty; but that energy which exposed man to so many sacrifices,
which exacted from woman so many virtues,--the chivalric spirit of
olden times,--has only left feeble traces in Germany, where noble
actions will only be the result of that liberal impulse which in Europe
has succeeded chivalry.”

Chateaubriand pays a similar compliment to the German people:--“I love
Germany; I admire its domestic virtues and its hospitable manners; its
poetic and religious sentiments, and its love for science. Amongst the
Germans we feel that invincible power that conceals the _positiveness_
of the world and the _prosaism_ of life.”

In Russia duels very rarely took place, a circumstance which in a great
measure may be attributed to the ferocity of their princes, who not
only saw the penal laws executed, but not unfrequently acted themselves
as executioners: a fact illustrated by Peter I, who gave the signal for
the judicial massacre of the revolted Strelitz, his Pretorian guards,
by seizing an axe and striking off the heads of a hundred of his
victims. The gross and brutal conduct of the Russian autocrat towards
women was imitated by his court and the people; and it can scarcely
be expected that a nice sense of honour can prevail in the minds of
men who only punished infidelity by a bastinade inflicted on both
the offending parties, and who usually testified their affection by
submitting the object of their love to the _knout_,--indeed, the fair
sex of Muscovy considered this infliction as a gallantry on the part
of their husbands; nor could their sense of delicacy be very acute,
when we find their Empress kneeling at the shrine of the Virgin and St.
Nicholas, to ask from what company of her guards she was to select her
favourite paramour.

The Russian laws against duelling were most severe. In the military
penal code of Peter I. it was ordered, that whoever provoked another
to fight a duel should be hanged, whether the duel took place or not;
that the seconds should suffer the same punishment, unless they exerted
themselves to prevent the meeting. That in the case of any dispute,
or blow being given, the aggressor was to ask pardon of the offended
party in presence of the military tribunal; and that whoever should
slap another’s face was to submit to a public retaliation. In the code
of Catherine we find, in the 234th article, the following view of the
subject:--“As to duelling, the best mode of preventing it is to punish
the aggressor, and to declare the innocence of the man who, without any
fault of his own, has found himself under the necessity of avenging
his honour.” We also find in an ukase of Catherine the following
enactment:--

“Whoever insults or strikes a citizen with an _unarmed hand_, shall
forfeit the amount of whatever yearly tax the citizen pays to the
state. Whoever insults or injures the wife or the daughter of a
citizen, shall pay double the amount for the wife, and four times the
amount for the daughter, of the annual tax the father or husband pays
to the state.”

It was, however, no uncommon practice on the part of the Czars to
strike their officers and attendants. Peter the Great would cane any
person, whatever might have been his rank, who had offended him.
Indeed, a blow from an imperial hand was considered an honour: though
this was not the case with a French architect, of the name of Le Blond,
who, after a caning, took it so much to heart, that he fell ill of a
fever and died.

It appears that no _prestige_ of rank could screen Russian ladies from
the brutal treatment of their husbands and lovers; and the Empress
Catherine herself was frequently horsewhipped by Gregory Orloff,
the most favoured of the five brothers of that name who shared her
smiles. No duels arose among her numerous lovers. Potemkin, playing
one day at billiards with Alexis Orloff, a brother-favourite, had some
difference, when Orloff struck him on the eye with a cue: the parties
were separated; but Alexis complained to his brother Gregory, then the
greater favourite, who insisted that Potemkin should be immediately
exiled, a request that the Empress did not dare refuse; and Potemkin,
who had lost an eye in the affray, was banished to Smolensko. He was
recalled, however, a year afterwards, and he soon avenged himself by
banishing his former rival, whom he succeeded; and shortly after,
he ceded her charms to another lover of the name of Lanskoi. Orloff
travelled, married, and visited the court of France, which he publicly
insulted by going to a levee in a common undress suit of clothes;
an offence which was not resented by Choiseul, the French minister.
Orloff’s wife soon after died, when he returned to St. Petersburgh on
the very night that the Empress was giving a ball in the palace of
Tzarco-zelo. He repaired to the festive hall in deep mourning, and
made up to Catherine, who was leaning on the arm of her favourite
Lanskoi, when he exclaimed with a ferocious look, “So, Kalinga, you
are still fond of dancing;--will you waltz with me? You hesitate: does
my dress alarm you? Do you know,” he added in a dismal tone of voice,
“do you know that my wife is dead? do you know it? and, if you knew
it, how did you dare to give this entertainment?” and, thus saying, he
seized a chair and dashed it to pieces. Lanskoi wanted to rush upon
the ruffian, but Catherine forcibly held him back, and assured Orloff
that she was not aware of his wife’s death; when he continued, “Yes,
she is dead, and I am alive! I am miserable, Kalinga! for I loved my
wife dearly!” and, so saying, he burst into tears; when, suddenly
casting his eyes upon Lanskoi, he exclaimed, “So, this is the young
new-comer! Ha! you are very young, my boy! poor blind buzzard, to be
caught in such a snare!” Again Lanskoi wanted to have recourse to
force to expel the bold intruder, who threatened to throw him out of
the window if he stirred one step; while Catherine exclaimed in agony,
“He is mad! he is mad!” “Yes, I am mad!” replied the ruffian with a
bitter laugh; “but who maddened me?--was it not thou, Kalinga? was it
not for thee that I became a regicide, an assassin? and now, woman, you
tell me I am mad!” So saying, he raised his hand to strike her; but
Catherine swooned on a sofa, and Orloff stalked out of the ball-room
unmolested. No punishment was inflicted on him for this audacious
conduct; on the contrary, he frequently attended the court, until he
died of a brain-fever in 1785. Lanskoi soon followed him to the grave;
when Potemkin sought to assuage the despair of Catherine by privately
marrying her, receiving as a marriage portion a palace worth 600,000
roubles, a coat embroidered with diamonds worth 200,000 roubles, and
200,000 peasants! Such was the wealth lavished on this favourite, that
he died worth 300,000,000 francs!--Could duels, or any feeling of
honour, be known in such a court?

However, at a later period, under Alexander I, who entertained some
chivalric notions and a faint idea of honour, duels came into fashion.
A singular manner of settling a quarrel was instanced in the case of
an old general officer of the name of Zass, who, having received from
Prince Dolgoroucki an order which would have defeated his plan of
operations, refused to obey him. High words ensued, and a challenge
was forwarded. At that moment the Swedish artillery was heard, and
intelligence was brought that the enemy were attacking a redoubt.
“Prince,” said the general, “we cannot fight a duel when our duty calls
us to meet the enemy; but let us both stand in an embrasure of that
battery, against which the enemy are directing their fire, and let
us remain there until one of us is struck.” Dolgoroucki accepted the
proposal. They both exposed themselves to the enemy’s fire, standing
erect with one hand on the hip, and looking fiercely at each other,
until the prince was cut in two by a cannon-ball; this desperate
resolve being witnessed by the whole army.

A conflict no less singular occurred in the case of one of the
most celebrated Russian duellists, a Count de Tolstoy, who, having
quarrelled with a naval officer, sent him a message, which was declined
on the plea of the count’s dexterity in the use of arms. Tolstoy then
proposed that they should fight with pistols muzzle to muzzle; but
this also the sailor declined, and insisted upon fighting according
to what he called a naval manner, which was, to seize each other and
jump into the water, the victory being awarded to the party that
escaped drowning. The count in his turn objected to the proposal, on
the plea that he could not swim, on which his adversary accused him of
cowardice; when he rushed upon him, seized him, and threw himself with
him into the sea. However, they were both drawn out of the water; but
the naval officer was so much injured, that he died a few days after.

In the annals of Poland judicial combats were not unfrequent, and were
similar to those resorted to in other countries; and we find the wife
of a grand duke of Lithuania accused of an adulterous intercourse,
when twelve champions presented themselves to defend her cause. The
proposal was objected to, and the law of the land, which was somewhat
singular, prevailed. The accuser was condemned to place himself on
all fours, like a quadruped, under a bench, and then to _unbark_ his
assertion, by publicly declaring that he _had lied like a dog_.

The jocularity of the Poles appears to have been occasionally of a very
rough nature. It is related of an Italian nobleman, that, being invited
by Prince Zboruski to his castle, he was made the butt of the company,
who one day proceeded to strip him; and, after smearing him all over
with honey, introduced him to some tame bears, who, licking off the
honey with their rough tongues, did not produce a very agreeable
sensation. The offended Italian wanted to depart, but the prince had
ordered the wheels of his carriage to be taken off. He contrived,
however, to effect his escape, and sent a challenge to Zboruski,
accompanied with a copy of his genealogy, to prove that he could not
refuse to meet him on the plea of a disparity of rank. But the Pole
thought otherwise, and declined the honour.

Since the misfortunes of the Poles, duelling has frequently taken place
amongst these exiles; and Lelewel observes on this subject, “that
emigrants fight from idleness, and that condition of suffering and
demoralization which renders every feeling susceptible of the slightest
offence.” During the generous struggle of this unhappy people with
their ferocious oppressors, a conflict of a most desperate nature
took place between a Polish and a Russian officer near Warsaw; the
following are the particulars:--A young Polish officer, who had served
under Napoleon in his Guards, had paid his addresses to a young lady
of Warsaw, who was carried off by a Russian officer; he offered his
hand in vain to his victim, who scorned his proposal with indignation:
the retreat of the Russian was discovered; a challenge was sent and
accepted. The ground was fixed in a wood four leagues from the city;
and, after measuring eight paces, swords marked the distance. The
combatants were armed with pistols, and were to advance upon each
other, and fire at will; the Russian fired first, and wounded his
antagonist in the breast, when the Pole exclaimed, “Come on, wretch,
and receive your death,--I still possess sufficient strength and life
to deprive thee of thine;” but the Russian mounted his horse and
galloped off. His seconds, indignant at such cowardly behaviour, bade
the friends of the wounded Pole pursue him, and give him up to them
as a disloyal dastard. They rode after him, and cutting him down,
brought him to an inn where the Pole had been also borne: upon seeing
his wounded antagonist, the Pole collected the little strength that
remained in him, and, seizing his sword, staggered towards his rival,
ran him through the body, and expired. The Russian officer recovered
from his wounds, and the young lady was restored to her family.




CHAPTER XX.

DUELS IN BELGIUM AND HOLLAND.


Although these two countries, both in a religious and political
point of view, may be considered most distinct, and nothing but the
blindest policy could ever have entertained the notion of uniting _res
dissociabiles_, their close and frequent connexion generally unites
their historical annals.

Belgium was the cradle of the monarchy of the Franks: Tournay was one
of the first conquests of Clodion over the Romans; in 1653, the tomb
of Childeric was discovered; and Aix-la-Chapelle was the capital of
Charlemagne. The customs of the Franks were, therefore, prevalent in
their several provinces, and trials by battle, ordeals, and the many
barbarous modes of settling differences and establishing rights which
we have recorded of France and other countries were resorted to in
cases where the judgement of God was appealed to. These appeals must
have been frequent amongst these turbulent people, who were incessantly
embroiled in foreign or intestine wars to such an extent, that it is
related of one of the sultans, who, hearing of their endless contests,
asked to see the map of the theatre of war; that, amazed at its narrow
limits, he exclaimed, “Were I concerned in this affair, I should send
my pioneers to cast this little corner of the world into the sea.”

The inhabitants of the Low Countries were ever remarkable for their
impatience of control, and their anxiety to preserve their rights and
immunities untouched; they were faithful to their antique customs
and prejudices, and zealous defenders of what they considered their
independence and liberties; and, to their credit, it must be said,
that both the aristocracy and the democracy of the land united their
efforts in the common cause of their country; while the clergy, all
powerful and influential, exercised a mighty power over a bigoted and
superstitious people, who, even to the present day, are more imbued
with religious prejudices than the inhabitants of any other Roman
Catholic realm.

To this hour, the Belgians firmly believe in the traditionary legend of
the Abbey of Cambrai, and the duel between Jean le Flamand and a Jew.
The Virgin of Cambrai having appeared in a vision to Jean le Flamand,
an old carpenter, and complained of the injury done to her image by
the impious Israelite, who had falsely pretended to abjure his faith,
our worthy immediately repaired to the chapel, and beheld the image
of the Virgin with five wounds of a lance, from each of which the
blood was flowing. The Jew, named Wilhelm, was immediately apprehended
and tortured, but no avowal could be extorted from him by the most
ingenious torments. Jean le Flamand thereupon begged to consult the
Abbé of Cambrai, who told him that the Virgin commanded him to call out
the Hebrew to a single combat, to knock out his brains, and then cut
off his empty head. The battle took place with shield and stave, when
the Jew, who was a powerful youth, was thoroughly thrashed,--_Divinâ
cooperante gratiâ_; after which he was duly hanged between two dogs,
according to custom. Why the poor dogs were hanged with the unbeliever,
history does not state.

A celebrated combat that took place at Valenciennes in 1455 has been
recorded by many historians. This battle was fought in maintenance of
an ancient franchise, which provided that any man who killed another
in self-defence, might claim a franchise at Valenciennes, and maintain
with staff and shield that the contest had been fair. In this instance,
a tailor, named Mahuot Cocquel, sought refuge in this town, after
having killed a citizen of Tournay, one Philippe du Gardin, who had
had the impertinence to refuse him his daughter. A relation of the
deceased, Jacotin Plouvier, followed the tailor, and accused him of
having feloniously killed Du Gardin. The two champions were forthwith
put in prison; and a Breton (Britanny being renowned for its skill in
cudgelling) was attached to each of the parties, to teach them the use
of the staff.

On the 20th of May, the field being appointed, the Duke of Burgundy,
and his son the Duke de Charolais, attended by a numerous court,
proceeded to the spot. A triple barrier had been raised in the
market-place, and the ground was deeply covered with sand; the
space between the second and third barrier was appropriated to the
accommodation of the _prevost_, the jury-men, and several of the
nobility; and the third row was for the reception of three hundred
knights, their squires, and the wealthy burghers.

At nine o’clock in the morning, the champions appeared. Their heads
had been shaved, and they wore tight leather doublets. Jacotin, the
appellant, first appeared, accompanied by his _Breton_, and followed
by a man carrying his target in a sack. After crossing himself several
times, he sat down on a chair covered with black cloth; Mahuot Cocquel
followed with a similar train, and, falling on his knees, crossed
himself with great devotion, kissed the ground, and then seated
himself on another stool covered with black.

The magistrates then proceeded to swear the champions on the holy
Evangelists. Jacotin kissed the book, and swore that his cause was a
just one; Mahuot did the same, and added, that Jacotin was a false and
villanous liar; but, on kissing the book a second time, it was observed
that he turned pale.

The parties were then smeared with grease from head to foot, to
prevent their being easily grasped, and their hands were rubbed with
ashes, that their staves might be more securely held. Food was then
presented them on two silver salvers; and, to show them that it was not
poisonous, the bearers of the collation themselves tasted it. A lump
of sugar was then put into their mouths, that they might not become
parched, and they were then armed with two knotty cudgels of equal
length, and bucklers painted red; but they were obliged to bear the
shield with its point uppermost, to show that they were not of noble
birth.

The _prevost_ of the town now exclaimed in a loud and audible voice,
“Do your duty!” and the combatants rushed upon each other. Mahuot
commenced the attack by throwing sand in his adversary’s eyes, and then
broke his head with his staff; but Jacotin attacked his antagonist in
his turn, knocked his buckler off, and then knocked him down; Mahuot
rose to be knocked down again, while Jacotin was rubbing sand in his
eyes, biting his ears, and pommelling his face. The Duke of Burgundy,
Philippe le Bon, felt compassion for the battered Mahuot, and sent one
of his officers to the magistrates, to know if it were not possible
to save the life of the unfortunate man; but they replied, that the
privileges of their town must be maintained. In the mean time, Jacotin
was pursuing his delectable occupation, cramming sand in his opponent’s
mouth, biting and scratching him, and then turning him upon his face;
in which exploit, however, Mahuot contrived to bite off one of his
fingers: a mutilation that so incensed the conqueror, that, according
to the chronicler, he broke his arm and his loins, and then jumping
upon him, roared out, “Surrender, traitor, and confess the fact, that
thou didst murder my poor relation!” to which Mahuot replied, “I
confess it! I confess it!” “Speak louder, that thou mayest be heard!”
roared out Jacotin. “I did it! I did it!” cried Mahuot; “and oh! my
Lord Duke of Burgundy,” he added, “I served you faithfully in your wars
of Ghent,--oh! my good lord, I pray for mercy!--for God’s sake, save my
life!”

Again the duke sent to the burgomasters; but they remained inflexible,
sticking to their _fueros_. They even maintained that the deceased
should not be allowed a Christian burial; and then Jacotin despatched
his victim with four desperate blows on the head; after which, he
dragged him off the ground by the legs; but Mahuot was not quite dead,
for he was able to recite his creed, confess his sins to a Carmelite,
and drink several glasses of wine, before he yielded up the ghost.

The magistrates then ascended the bench, and ordered that, according to
their sacred municipal privileges, the vanquished should be hanged and
strangled as a murderer, which was forthwith done by the executioner.
The conqueror then went up to the burgomaster, and asked him, if he had
properly done his duty: to which it was replied in the affirmative; and
he was informed, that he was free to go wherever he thought proper. He
of course proceeded to the chapel of _Notre Dame la Grande_, to present
an offering, and return thanksgivings for her protection. The staves,
bucklers, and stools of the combatants were then suspended as trophies
in the town-hall.

Amongst the many ferocious combats of these barbarous times may be
noticed the duel between Arnold d’Egmont and Adolphus, his son, who was
encouraged in his unnatural conduct by his mother, Catherine de Cleves.

Numerous edicts and placards were promulgated at various periods
to check the progress of duelling in the Low Countries, but with as
little success as in France. Of late years, these hostile meetings
have become very rare, and are chiefly confined to the military;
although, after the revolution of 1833, duels arose in consequence of
the stormy discussions that took place in the chambers. In June 1833,
two deputies, Messrs. Rogier and Gendebien, fought with pistols at a
distance of forty paces, being allowed to advance ten paces on each
other. Rogier fired first, but missed his opponent, who, firing in
his turn, at a distance of thirty-five paces, shot his antagonist in
the mouth. M. Gendebien was afterwards called out by a French general
officer, to apologise for his objection to the employment of foreigners
in the Belgian army; but the deputy very wisely refused to meet him, on
the score of parliamentary freedom of speech.

In 1834, when Brussels was in a state of great anarchy and confusion,
duels were not unfrequent; a man was assassinated in coming out of the
playhouse for having declined a challenge; and the minister assured the
chamber, that he would adopt the most energetic means to repress these
excesses. Notwithstanding the prohibitory laws, several fatal meetings
took place without any judicial punishment. A captain of artillery,
named Pariset, had reprimanded a M. Vanderstraeten, one of his
lieutenants, for not having saluted him, observing, that “he was but a
boy.” The lieutenant called out his captain, who declined the meeting;
when another captain, of the name of Eenens, took up the quarrel, and
obliged Pariset to give him satisfaction, by calling him a coward.
The meeting took place in a pine-wood near Waterloo, when Pariset was
killed at the first fire. The survivor was tried by a court-martial,
but acquitted on the plea that there did not exist any law to punish
duelling. More recently, at Luxemburg, a duel was fought between a
Baron de Tornaco and a Dutch captain, when the latter was shot dead;
but no judicial inquiry followed.

The government of Belgium are at this moment preparing a law for the
utter prohibition of this practice, which hitherto has been rarely
visited with severity. In the Belgian army, as well as in that of
France, duelling, even between officers of great disparity of rank, is
only punished by cashiering the offender, as appears in the following
order of the day of the minister of war, Count Maison, in 1835:--

“In breach of all subordination, a lieutenant-colonel has presumed to
challenge his superior officer. Such a serious transgression, which
might prove most injurious to the discipline of the corps, demands
a prompt and severe punishment. The minister, therefore, orders,
that the lieutenant-colonel shall be forthwith brought before a
court-martial. In regard to the superior officer, who might and ought
to have exercised the authority which his rank conferred on him, but
who condescended to accept the challenge, he is cashiered. The seconds
and the other officers who were present at, or who did not prevent the
meeting, shall be placed under close arrest for a fortnight.”




CHAPTER XXI.

DUELS IN THE UNITED STATES.


To record the duels that have taken place in the United States of
America would require a ponderous work. They not only have been very
frequent, but in general marked with a character of reckless ferocity,
that clearly shows the very slow progress of civilization in that
rising country, where we have every reason to expect and to hope that
at some future period the practice of duelling will fall into as much
disrepute as in more polished regions.

This young country, notwithstanding its constant commercial and
political relations with the European powers and the mother-land, is
but little known; indeed, a knowledge of the customs, habits, and
ideas of its inhabitants, must be difficult to obtain, from their
territorial divisions, the great extent of their provinces, and the
difference of the institutions that rule their several states: in
the one, an offence is considered a heinous crime, which in another
is deemed a mere misdemeanor, an anomaly in legislation which must
arise from the variety of their commercial and agricultural interests.
It is, moreover, to be deeply lamented that most travellers who have
described their manners, after a mere hasty glance at the state of
their society, started on the tour of inquiry fully determined to find
fault, and possibly to speculate ultimately on national prejudices, as
their works have become more or less popular according to the ridicule
they have attached to American society, or the denunciation of its
hostility towards England. On the other hand, other travellers have
launched forth into lavish and enthusiastic praise, even of their vices
and errors; and France has not been backward in sending to the States
demagogues and visionaries, who consider them the seat of liberty and
independence.

That duels should be frequent in a new settlement is naturally to be
expected, more especially when the settlers are rude and uneducated;
the distance between their dwellings, the wildness of the forest, and
the difficulty, if not the impossibility, of having recourse to legal
and competent judicial authorities to settle their endless differences,
must induce them to take the law into their own hands, and arrange
matters with sword, pistol, rifle, or bowie-knife; or, if weapons were
not at hand, by the most ferocious pugilistic contests, partaking of
the savage yet honourable boxing of their fathers, and the ferocious
refinement of their Indian neighbours. Thus, wherever a colonist
_squatted_, he became the sole guardian and protector of his log-house
and property.

The influence of example, which the conduct of the upper classes
exercises on the lower orders, is sometimes reversed, and the false
notions of right and honour, entertained by the vulgar, are too
frequently adopted by their superiors, who from political purposes
are anxious to court that popularity which a display of what is
misnamed courage is sure to obtain among a rude people, who are
unwilling, from false notions of pride, to raise themselves to the
level of the civilization of their mother country. Fortunately, this
absurd prejudice is gradually losing ground, although, if we may
form an opinion by the public press, the bombastic style and the
silly bragging of their writers will tend to retard most materially
this desirable progress. The absurd fancy of seeking to alter the
language of their ancestors, is a convincing proof of the folly of
such pretensions to superiority, which a few accidental successes in
war have carried to a pitch absolutely ridiculous. It is not easy for
their legislators and their temporary rulers to oppose this bubbling
and frothy torrent of popular vanity; nor indeed dare they stem its
dangerous tide, which wafts them to power: and thus are they often
under the painful necessity of appearing to sanction excesses which
they sincerely condemn, and to use a style of exaggeration suited to
the morbid temperament of their constituents. With us the degradation
of the hustings is an occasional occurrence; in America every
public man is hourly polling. There is a state of feverish anxiety
perpetually raging, and duelling must be the inevitable result of such
a fermentation, and will continue to prevail so long as brute force is
considered a qualification.

Several of the states, however, have endeavoured to check the practice:
that of Massachusetts framed a law for that purpose in 1719, which
was revived in 1784, and subsequently in 1805; by this enactment,
any person fighting a duel was deprived of his political rights, and
rendered ineligible to any public situation for twenty years, and the
body of the deceased, when the meeting proved fatal, was appropriated
to anatomical demonstration. Similar laws have been promulgated in
Tennessee, New York, and other states. In Virginia public officers
were called upon to take an oath never to fight a duel upon entering
on their functions, and after this resolution duels became very rare.
In New Orleans, the papers of 1834, and several recent publications,
proposed the establishment of a court of honour, to decide upon any
differences that might arise amongst its citizens; and in 1831 Mr.
Livingston published his views on this important subject, relative
to which a French writer, Dupont de Nemours, speaks in the following
terms:--

“The diversity of political opinion has rendered duelling very frequent
in the United States, Some years ago, General Hamilton, a man of the
most distinguished merit, and who had been minister of finance, was
slain in a duel by Colonel Burr, and two years before that fatal event,
the eldest son of the general had lost his life in a similar manner.

“Most of the states have denounced a sentence of death against those
duellists who have killed their adversaries. But this penalty is
only comminatory, since it is eluded by the parties repairing to a
neighbouring province, of which they are not citizens, and which has
not the power to take cognizance of their offences; the laws on this
head not extending to the whole country, but being limited to each of
the eighteen confederate states.

“Moreover, European experience has evidently shown that death does not
intimidate those who fight, because they either brave it, or wish to
show that they do not fear its terrors.

“The habits of the Virginians disposed them to duelling more than any
other of the Americans, and the extent of the country rendered it more
difficult to seek the protection of a neighbouring state; for when
people are determined to fight, they are in general impatient. The
legislature of Virginia has therefore sought to obtain its object by
a less severe penalty, which from that very reason was more likely to
prove efficacious. They considered that when in frivolous matters, or
in differences of opinion which the law tolerates and even authorizes,
a man is induced to expose himself to death or to slay another, he is
actually demented, and that, therefore, all principals and seconds in
a duel should be considered labouring under an alienation of mind,
and deprived of any public station that they might hold; that their
property, moreover, should be vested in the hands of trustees, and
in fact be considered as labouring under an interdiction. Since this
enactment, duels in the state of Virginia have been rarely heard of.”

The first notorious duel that was fought in America was in the year
1630, when a challenge to single combat with sword and dagger, passed
between Edward Doty and Edward Leister, servants of a Mr. Hopkins.
Both were wounded, the one in the hand, and the other in the thigh.
As it was deemed expedient to repress such affairs, the parties were
condemned to have their hands and feet tied together, and to lie in
that condition for twenty-four hours, without either meat or drink.
This punishment was begun to be inflicted, but in an hour the pain
they endured was so severe, that, at their own supplication and their
master’s request. Governor Bradford liberated them on their promise of
future good behaviour.

The correspondence that arose between General Wilkinson and Mr.
Randolph, a senator, is somewhat curious. The former had observed,
that he had learnt that Mr. Randolph had called him a rogue: to this
the Honourable John Randolph replied, “In you, Sir, I can recognize no
right to hold me accountable for my public or private opinion of your
character, that would not subject me to an equal claim from Colonel
Burr and Sergeant Dunbaugh. I cannot descend to your level. This is my
final answer.” Upon this concise reply, the General wrote the following
letter to the senator:--

“SIR,

“I have received your letter of the 25th instant, by mail, in which
you violate truth and honour, to indulge the inherent malignity and
rancour of your soul. On what ‘level,’ pray Sir, shall we find the
wretch who, to mark his cowardice, fabricates falsehoods, and heaps
unprovoked insults upon unmerited injuries? _You_ ‘cannot descend to
my level,’--vain, equivocal thing! And you believe this dastardly
subterfuge will avail you, or that your lion’s skin will longer conceal
your true character? Embrace the alternative still within your reach,
and ascend to the ‘level’ of a gentleman, if possible; act like a man
if you can, and spare me the pain of publishing you to the world for an
insolent, slanderous, and prevaricating poltroon.

  “JAMES WILKINSON.”

There is a _N.B._ by way of postscript, to tell the senator that “the
sacred respect due to the station he occupied in the councils of the
nation, alone protected him from the chastisement of his cane.”

The General kept his word, and when Congress was assembled, the
following notice was stuck up in the corners of the streets and in all
the taverns:--

“_Hector unmasked._--In justice to my character, I denounce to the
world John Randolph, Member of Congress, a prevaricating, base,
calumniating scoundrel, poltroon, and coward.”

At the time of the French Revolution two celebrated French duellists
were residing in Philadelphia, Louis de Noailles and Alexandre de
Tilly. The Viscount de Noailles was admitted into the family of a
Mr. Bingham, one of the wealthiest merchants of Pennsylvania, and a
senator. He soon after introduced the Count de Tilly, who was much
liked by Mrs. and Miss Maria Matilda Bingham, an only daughter. The
experienced seducer soon persuaded the young lady, who was not yet of
age, to marry him privately, and they were secretly united in 1799, by
a clergyman whom they had bribed.

This marriage threw the family into a state of consternation. The
mother died heart-broken, Mr. Bingham only survived her a few years;
and a Mr. Barry thought it proper to chastise the Frenchman, who
was, however, induced to leave the United States on the following
conditions:--Five thousand pounds ready money to pay his debts,--an
annual allowance of five hundred pounds,--and an acknowledgment on
the part of Mr. Barry, either in writing or by a verbal communication
through the Count de Noailles, that he merely _pushed_ against him in a
crowd!

In the year 1804, General Hamilton, who had been just appointed
ambassador from the United States to Paris, got involved in a political
dispute with Colonel Aaron Burr, then vice-president. Dr. Cooper had
published a pamphlet, in which he had said “Colonel Hamilton and Dr.
Kent say, that they consider Colonel Burr a dangerous man, and one
unfit to be trusted with the reins of government.” In another place
the same writer said, “General Hamilton has expressed of Colonel Burr
opinions still more despicable.”

The last passage excited the resentment of Colonel Burr, who demanded
from General Hamilton “a prompt and unqualified acknowledgment or
denial of the expressions which could justify this inference on the
part of Dr. Cooper.” General Hamilton admitted the first statement,
which he contended was fairly within the bounds prescribed in cases
of political animosity, but objected to be called on to retrace every
conversation which he had held either publicly or confidentially in the
course of fifteen years’ opposition. This would not satisfy Burr, who
insisted upon satisfaction and a meeting.

On the evening before the duel Hamilton made his will, in which he
enclosed a paper, containing his opinion of duelling; and, expressive
of the reluctance with which he obeyed a custom so painful to his
feelings, he says--

“On my expected interview with Colonel Burr, I think it proper to make
some remarks explanatory of my conduct, motives, and views. I was
certainly desirous of avoiding this interview, for the most cogent
reasons:--

“_First._--My religious and moral principles are strongly opposed to
the practice of duelling, and it would ever give me pain to shed the
blood of a fellow creature in a private combat, forbidden by the laws.

“_Secondly._--My wife and children are extremely dear to me, and my
life is of the utmost importance to them, in various points of view.

“_Thirdly._--I feel a sense of obligation towards my creditors, who, in
case of accident to me, by the forced sale of my property, may be in
some degree sufferers. I do not think myself at liberty, as a man of
probity, lightly to expose them to hazard.

“_Fourthly._--I am conscious of no ill-will to Colonel Burr, distinct
from political opposition, which, as I trust, has proceeded from pure
and upright motives.

“_Lastly._--I shall hazard much and can possibly gain nothing by the
issue of the interview.”

The parties met, and Colonel Burr’s shot took fatal effect. General
Hamilton had determined not to return the fire, but, on receiving the
shock of the mortal wound, his pistol went off involuntarily in an
opposite direction.

Few individuals died more lamented than General Hamilton, whose funeral
at New York was observed with unusual respect and ceremony. All the
public functionaries attended, and the bells, muffled, tolled during
the day. All business was suspended, and the principal inhabitants wore
mourning for six weeks. No death, save that of Washington, had filled
the republic with such deep and universal regret.

A singular and fatal duel was fought in New York by the late Stephen
Price, well-known as the former lessee of Drury Lane theatre. The
following is an account of this affair, extracted from the American
papers:--

“Benjamin Price was a grocer at Rhinebeck, and was considered the
flower of the flock. He was at the theatre one evening with a
beautiful woman, when a British officer, in an adjoining box, took
the liberty of turning round and staring her full in the face. She
complained to Ben Price, and, on a repetition of the offence, he turned
round and seized the nose of the officer full between his finger and
thumb, and wrung it most effectually.

“The officer left the box, and soon after a knock was heard at the door
of Ben Price’s box. Ben opened it, and there stood the officer, whose
name was Green, and who asked Ben, what he meant by this behaviour? at
the same time remarking, that he had not meant to insult the lady by
what he had done. ‘Oh! very well,’ replied Ben, ‘neither did I mean
to insult you by what I did.’ Upon this they shook hands as sworn
brothers; and some time after Mr. Green went to Canada to join his
regiment.

“The facts of this affair, however, reached Canada as soon as Mr. Green
did, and of course were bruited about. The officers of his regiment,
one of whom had a pique against him, caused it to be brought under the
notice of his brother officers, one of whom, a Captain Wilson, insisted
that Green should be sent to Coventry, unless he went back directly and
fought Ben Price. Green, therefore, set to work, and practised for five
hours every day, until he could hit a dollar at ten paces nine times
out of ten. He then came to New York, and challenged Ben Price. They
fought at Hoboken, and Ben was killed on the first fire. The seconds
ran off, and Green took a small boat, crossed the river, and boarded
a vessel in the bay just about to sail for England. The body of Ben
was found at Hoboken, with a piece of paper attached to his breast, on
which were inscribed the following words:--‘This is Benjamin Price,
boarding in Veney Street, New York,--take care of him.’ The body was
brought to the city quietly, and he was buried in New York.”

“Some years afterwards, Captain Wilson of the British army, whom we
have mentioned above, arrived in this city, from England, on his way
to Canada, and put up at the Washington Hotel. One day, at dinner,
the conversation turned on the death of Ben Price, and the manner
thereof. Captain Wilson remarked that he had been mainly instrumental
in bringing about the duel, and detailed the circumstances connected
therewith. This statement was carried immediately to Stephen Price, who
was lying ill of the gout, at home: his friends say that he henceforth
implicitly obeyed the instructions of the physician, obtained thereby
a short cessation of the gout, and was enabled to hobble out of doors,
his lower extremities swaddled in flannel. His first course was to
seek the Washington Hotel, and his first inquiry was, ‘Is Captain
Wilson within?’--‘He is,’ said the waiter.--‘Show me to his room,’
said Stephen, and he was shown accordingly. He hobbled up stairs with
great difficulty, cursing at intervals the gout and the captain with
equal vehemence. He at last entered the captain’s room, his feet cased
in mocassins, and his hand grasping a stick. Captain Wilson rose to
receive him, when he said, ‘Are you Captain Wilson?’--‘That is my
name,’ replied the gallant captain. ‘Then, Sir, my name is Stephen
Price. You see, Sir, I can scarcely put one foot before the other; I
am afflicted with the gout. My object in coming here, is to insult
you. Shall I have to knock you down, or will you consider what I have
said a sufficient insult, and act accordingly?’--‘No, Sir,’ replied
the captain, smiling, ‘I shall consider what you have said quite
sufficient, and shall act accordingly. You shall hear from me.’”

“In due time there came a message from the captain to Stephen Price;
time, place, and weapons were appointed, and early one morning a barge
left New York, in which were seated, face to face, Stephen Price and
Captain Wilson and two friends: they all landed at Bedlaw’s Island,
the principals took their positions, and Captain Wilson fell dead at
the first shot. The captain was buried in the vault there, and Price
and the two seconds returned to New York; but his friends (Wilson’s)
thought that he had gone suddenly to Canada, and always thought that
he had died suddenly, or had been killed on his way to England to join
his regiment.”

It is surprising that in a country where such an event as the death
of General Hamilton could be productive of such a general feeling of
regret, duels of the most wanton and desperate nature so frequently
occur. But a very few years since a furious outbreak of temper was
manifested in the state of Louisiana, where a Mr. Labranch, president
of the legislative assembly, as he was about taking the chair, was
assaulted by a Mr. Grymes, who endeavoured to strike him with a stick,
when he drew a pocket pistol and fired at the aggressor, but missed
him, and Grymes, in his turn, drew out a horse pistol loaded with ball
and slugs, and fired at him. The ball grazed the head of a senator who
was seated near the chairman, and who received two slugs in his arm and
hand. This occurred in 1835.

The same year a duel took place between a lieutenant of the American
Navy, and three passengers in a steam-boat, two of whom were brothers.
The parties landed; the lieutenant received a ball in the hip, and one
of the brothers fell dead on his fire. The surviving brother sought to
avenge him, but also received a mortal wound. The third survivor now
insisted upon satisfaction from the lieutenant’s second, whom he shot
in the breast; he then obliged the lieutenant, although exhausted from
loss of blood, to satisfy him still further, when he mortally wounded
him.

Fighting with rifles and muskets, sometimes by beat of drum, is not an
uncommon method of settling an American dispute; and frequently, as in
the case of their disputes with our officers at Gibraltar, Americans
have insisted upon fighting _double-handed_, or resting the pistol to
level it on the left arm: a proposal made to one of our officers, a
Captain G----, who had lost the use of his right arm in the Pyrenees,
but who contrived with his left to wound very severely the desperado
who sought to take such an unfair advantage of an honourable infirmity.
These differences, to which we shall refer elsewhere, must have led to
the most fatal consequences, had not the American commodore very wisely
put out to sea.

It is to be lamented that this recklessness of life, that prevails
in the United States of America, should have extended its baneful
influence over our West India colonies. Both the British and French
creoles are hasty in the expression of their displeasure, and
vindictive in seeking to avenge their real or supposed wrongs. This
circumstance is perhaps to be attributed to the great mortality which
afflicts these unhealthy regions, as the constant sight of death, and
the incessant tolling of the passing bell, must in a great measure
strip death of many of its terrors. It is also to be observed, that
the creoles, who enjoy a short but a merry life, are much addicted to
the pleasures of the table, and balls generally succeed the festival,
when the passions, excited by previous stimulants, predispose to a
captious and jealous susceptibility; and wine and women reign paramount
in the assembly. To this circumstance may be superadded the constant
dissensions in colonial politics, where the representatives of the
place are often in collision with the government; and it is to be
lamented, that too frequently the crown lawyers themselves, instead
of endeavouring to check the evils that must arise from such a want
of concert and harmony, are the first to disturb the public peace;
and attorney-general and solicitor-general are occasionally the most
troublesome and pugnacious members of society.

A very severe lesson was given to a noted French duellist in Jamaica,
by the captain of a West Indiaman, which is worthy of record. Henri
d’Egville was a creole of St. Domingo, and had obtained great notoriety
from the frequent quarrels and fatal duels in which he had been
engaged. He was dining one day at Kingston, in company with several
persons, amongst whom was a Scotch captain, of the name of Stewart. The
meeting was convivial, and various songs and toasts were called for
and given. At last D’Egville requested Stewart to sing a Gaëlic song,
which the Scotchman declined on the plea of his ignorance of that
language. The Frenchman insisted, when Stewart sang a Scotch drinking
song, which D’Egville, who understood but little English, took for a
Gaëlic strain. Here the matter ended, the party broke up, and Stewart
repaired to his vessel, accompanied by a friend, when the conversation
turned upon duelling, and the reputation that D’Egville had obtained of
being a dangerous man. Stewart expressed his horror of duelling, and
admitted that it had been his misfortune to kill one of his intimate
friends, of the name of Cameron, in a hostile meeting, occasioned by
some difference between them concerning a lady, when Cameron had struck
him. The Scotchman expressed his deep sorrow for that melancholy event,
which had ever since embittered his existence.

While the parties were thus conversing, they perceived a boat pulling
towards the ship, and Stewart recognised in it a Captain Wilthorpe,
an officer in the Columbian service, a professed duellist, and the
constant and worthy companion of D’Egville. Stewart had strange
forebodings at this unexpected visit, which were soon realised.
Wilthorpe came on board, and, after politely saluting the captain
and his friend, delivered a message from Henri d’Egville, who had
considered himself mystified by Stewart’s having sought to impose upon
him an English song for a Gaëlic specimen.

The Scotch captain expressed his surprise at this communication, and at
the same time declared his firm resolution not to fight a duel after
the melancholy result of a former one in which he had been engaged.
Wilthorpe withdrew and returned to his boat. Stewart, shortly after
having occasion to go on shore, met D’Egville on horseback, when the
latter rode up to him, struck him with a horsewhip, and galloped off.

Stewart, greatly indignant at this outrageous conduct, formed the
resolution of ridding the world of such a pestilence; and at the same
time perilling his own life by compelling the Frenchman to fight a
duel which would render the fall of both of them certain. He sent
him a message, and requested a meeting behind the Iguanna rocks. He
then, accompanied by two of his men, proceeded to the rendezvous, and
directed them to dig a grave sufficiently deep to receive two bodies.
D’Egville soon appeared, and Stewart proposed, as conditions of the
duel, that they both should stand in the grave, holding their pistols
in one hand and the end of a pocket-handkerchief in the other. The
sun was shedding its parting rays on the wild spot he had selected.
Stewart was firm and calm: the Frenchman, despite his efforts to appear
undismayed, betrayed evident signs of perturbation.

The seconds, one of whom was Wilthorpe, drew lots for the word of
command--the fatal signal of death. The parties descended into the
pit; Stewart with an undaunted step, D’Egville with much trepidation.
The handkerchief was placed in their hands, firmly grasped by the
Scotchman, tremblingly held by the creole: the word “Fire” was about
to be given, when the ruffian swooned and fell at the feet of his
adversary. Stewart spurned him with his foot, as a dastardly and
contemptible coward, and left him to the care of his worthy companion
and friend.

In the same colony, a fatal duel of a most singular nature took place
in 1830. Two planters, having made rather free at a merry dinner,
quarrelled and determined to fight a duel with muskets. Their boon
companions consented to the meeting; but, knowing the friendship that
had long existed between them, and the absurdity of the dispute, they
determined to load the pieces with powder and without ball. The parties
met, fired by signal, when, to the utter dismay of the seconds and
the party assembled to witness the sham fight, one of them was shot
in the back and dropped a corpse. Recovered from their surprise, they
carefully examined the surrounding bush, when at last they discovered
a negro concealed under a tree, and armed with a carbine. The man was
seized, and confessed that he was the assassin. The motives that had
impelled him to this deed were most singular. It appeared that the
preceding day, one of the planters had passed by a gibbet on which a
negro was hanging, when he wantonly put a pipe in the mouth of the
culprit. It was a companion of the unfortunate man, who, on beholding
the action, resolved on punishing the planter as soon as a favourable
opportunity might present itself. He was present when the duel was
decided on, and he hastened to his cabin, loaded a carbine, and
concealing himself behind a tree, near the scene of action, intended to
fire upon his victim; but the darkness of the night led to the fatal
mistake, which deprived the offender’s adversary of life.

It is not only in the British colonies that law officers show the
detestable example of duelling. In 1829 the attorney-general of
Martinique shot a French count, in consequence of some ill-timed jokes
in a ball-room. Not long ago, the governor of one of our transatlantic
possessions fought a duel with the chief-justice of the island. Nor can
we be surprised at these disgraceful occurrences, when it is notorious
that the judicial and legal situations in the colonies are not always
conferred on merit, legal attainments, or proper qualifications, but
often upon persons who merely possess patronage; and any tyro who is
called to the bar is considered fit for the judicial bench of a colony,
or the duties of a crown lawyer. The same abuse of power became the
curse of the Spanish American possessions; whenever a _hidalgo_ was
ruined, or too poor to live in the mother country, or unfit for any
situation at home, he was sent out to _Las Indias_ to make a fortune.
It seems to be the destiny of all colonies to be subject to misrule and
oppression; and one might imagine that to _colonize_, imports creating
future _enemies_.

Amongst people of colour duels are not uncommon: at Hayti, the greatest
insult is to call a man a mulatto, an offence which induced one of
their generals of the name of Lapointe to order the legs of a negro to
be sawed off.

The evils of colonization are every day becoming more evident in
Algeria, a possession which will prove to France a drain of blood
and treasure, and the tranquillity of which is frequently disturbed
by disputes and duels, both amongst military men and civil officers.
There, as in America, party spirit runs high; and the greater the
difficulties public functionaries have to encounter in the discharge of
their duty, and their care of personal interest, the more liable will
society be to a want of harmony and difference of opinion. Colonies may
be considered as republics belonging to monarchical governments, and
many anomalies must necessarily prevail in their administration.

The subject of duelling in the United States, and the many causes of
its frequency to which we have alluded, cannot be better illustrated
than by the following extract from the works of our poet Moore:--

“The rude familiarity of the lower orders, and indeed the unpolished
state of society in general, would neither surprise nor disgust, if
they seemed to flow from that simplicity of character, that honest
ignorance of the glass of refinement, which may be looked for in a new
and inexperienced people. But when we find them arrived at maturity in
most of the vices, and in all the pride of civilization, while they
are still so remote from its elegant characteristics, it is impossible
not to feel that this youthful decay, this crude anticipation of the
natural period of corruption, represses every sanguine hope of the
future energy and greatness of America.”

Although we cannot agree with our author in the latter part of his
opinion, as America is daily rising to power and eminence, yet there
is no doubt that the rancorous hostility which will long prevail
between the democrats and the federalists, the wealthy and the poor,
the northern and the southern, will prove for a considerable time an
endless source of discord in a land where licentiousness is considered
liberty.




CHAPTER XXII.

DUELS IN THE EAST.


There appears but little doubt of the common origin of the Germans,
the Chinese and Turcomans; some similarity of laws and customs may
therefore be considered as likely to be traced amongst the latter
people. Du Buat states that on the shores of the Caspian Sea, ancient
monuments have been discovered, which clearly show that those shores
had once been the site of a country called _Li Ken_, and subsequently
_Ta Tsin_, and known to the Chinese under the denomination of _Shem
Han_, a dynasty bearing date about two hundred and seven years before
our era.

This people he considers to have been a race of Huns, afterwards
Tartars, and of whom the Chinese historians relate the most
extraordinary traditions. According to these writers, the capital of
the _Ta Tsins_ was a hundred leagues in circumference, and was adorned
by five palaces, situate ten leagues from each other. The people were,
moreover, according to these accounts, most comely and tall, like
the Chinese: hence were they called _Ta_, great, and _Tsin_, China.
It appears, moreover, evident that the doctrines and fables of the
_Boudha_ are similar to those of _Wooden_, or _Odin_.

Thus do we find the laws of retaliation and compensation as
pertinaciously observed by the Chinese, as by the inhabitants of
ancient Germania, although amongst the former duels are unknown.
According to the magnitude of the offence, the infliction of the bamboo
is ordered: ten strokes for a verbal affront; twenty, for a blow, or a
kick; fifty, for tearing off a certain quantity of hair; and eighty,
for throwing dust in the face; while life atones for life.

According to the laws of Zoroaster, in a work attributed to him, called
the _Zend-Avesta_, abridged in a compendium entitled the _Sad-er_, or
the _gates_,--intending to strike a blow constitutes the offence called
_Agnerefte_; to give it is the _Eonvereschte_. The first misdemeanor is
punished with five blows; the second, with ten; increased in aggravated
cases, and on reiteration of the offence. To inflict a wound that
requires more than two days to heal, is an _Aredosch_; and to strike a
man behind, a _Khor_. The punishment of the first, is fifteen strokes;
of the second, thirty lashes, inflicted with a leather strap.

In Japan, instead of fighting duels, the parties endeavour to display
their valour by committing suicide. It is related that two officers
of the household of the Emperor having met on the staircase of the
palace, their sabres happened to entangle: words arose; one of them
imputed the affair to accident, adding, that the quarrel was between
the two swords, and the one was as good as the other. “We shall see
that presently,” replied his adversary, and with these words he drew
his weapon, and plunged it into his own breast. The other, impatient to
display similar courage, hurried away, in order to serve up a dish that
he was carrying to the Emperor’s table, which having done, he returned
to his opponent, who was at the point of death; but on finding that he
was still alive, he also plunged his sword into his own body, adding,
“You should not have had the start of me, had not my duties obliged me
to attend the Emperor. I die, however, contented, since I have proved
to you and to the world, that my sabre is as trusty as your own.”

Under such regulations it may be easily imagined that duels in Japan
are rare, and quarrels not frequent. Each street has a resident police
officer, called an _Ottona_. In the event of any difference arising, he
calls upon the parties to come to some amicable arrangement, and has
the power of incarcerating the persons who hesitate in following his
advice. When a quarrel or an affray takes place, the inhabitants of
the street are obliged to check it, and if one of the party is killed,
the survivor is put to death, and three of the principal neighbouring
families are placed under interdict for several months, while the other
citizens in the vicinity are condemned to some hard labour. When a man
dies, an inquest is invariably held on the body, to ascertain that it
bears no marks of violence, for a violent death must be avenged somehow
or other.

Amongst the Arabs we again have the Germanic vindictive retaliation:
each family is considered the guardian and avenger of its own rights.
Their susceptibility of an offence is most punctilious, and as Niebuhr
observes, “the honour of their women, and their beards, is equally dear
to them.” An expression of contempt can only be washed off by the blood
of the offender, and their inveterate hate, and thirst of revenge,
frequently brood and smoulder for years, until an opportunity offers
to glut their revenge. No compensation can atone for the loss of life:
the existence of the murderer is placed in the hands of the relatives
of the deceased; but it is not always the life of the assassin alone
that can gratify them,--they will fix upon some innocent member of his
family, whose existence may be the most precious to his friends. When
their victim is murdered, his family and his clan will, in their turn,
meditate on the most refined means of avenging his fall. Thus do these
bloody feuds exist for centuries, and revenge is transmitted down as
an honourable heir-loom.

Amongst the American Indians we observe similar acts of vengeance. An
Indian had a quarrel with one of his countrymen, who bit him severely
in the hand; the latter declared himself maimed, and demanded a combat.
The day is fixed; the tribe assembled. The champions advance: the
offended is armed with a musket; the offender is without any weapon;
both are painted of different colours. The parties approach each other
running, but halt at fifteen paces distance. The man without arms
presents his breast to his antagonist, who, quietly resting on his
piece, takes a draught out of his gourd, and calmly looks around him.
On a sudden he utters a loud and wild shriek, fires, and brings down
his foe. While the offender is weltering in his blood, the other gives
up his musket to the son, or a near relation of the dying man; he then
retreats some paces, takes a firm stand, points with his finger to the
region of the heart, and in turn receives his mortal wound. It appears
that in all such cases it is necessary that both parties should perish.

Such are the notions of honour amongst uncivilised nations and
infidels! Can we, as CHRISTIANS, boast of a higher sense of
justice, and of respect to the laws of God and man? Alas! might not
the unbelievers whom we seek to reclaim by the mild doctrines of the
SAVIOUR, have too frequently reason to reply to us in the
words of the Inca to the murderous Castilian, “I should not wish to go
to thy Heaven, if I am to meet thee there.” The following anecdote will
show that barbarians, as we are pleased to denominate them, can afford
a bright example to the most refined nations of Europe.

In 1690, a quarrel arose between two sons of Muly Ismael, Emperor of
Morocco: a combat took place, which was interrupted, and they were both
brought in chains before their father, who thus addressed them:--“I am
rejoiced to see you still amongst the living, although you both should
have fallen in the combat. It appears that you imagined that you no
longer possessed a father, or that you had forgotten that you were my
sons. Mild as lambs when I am with you, you are each more furious than
a roaring lion when I am away. I still live, and you have dared to have
recourse to arms.” So saying, he ordered that staves should be put into
their hands, and that they should chastise each other in his presence.


END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

  LONDON:

  PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,

  Bangor House, Shoe Lane.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] In the following pages I shall describe these several ordeals; for
although they may not be considered as coming within the legitimate
sphere of duelling, yet both practices were equally barbarous in their
origin and absurd in their application. Duels actually formed part of
the system of ordeals, in which the judgment of God was appealed to in
behalf of the innocent.

[2] By other accounts it appears that in this same battle only five
knights were killed,--four English and one Breton. Sir Robert Knolles
and Sir Hugh Calverley were of the party.

[3] As Robertson has observed, “Force of mind, a sense of personal
dignity, gallantry in enterprise, invincible perseverance in execution,
contempt of danger and of deaths are the characteristic virtues of all
uncivilized nations.”

[4] Strangers to the arts which embellish a polished age, these
people as they progressed in civilization, however slowly and rudely,
gradually lost all the virtues which are found among savages. They
looked upon literature with sovereign contempt:

“When we would brand an enemy,” says Liutprandus, “with the most
disgraceful and contumelious appellation, we call him a Roman.”
Instruction, they maintained, tends to corrupt, enervate, and depress
the mind; and he who has been accustomed to tremble under a rod, will
never look upon a spear or sword with an undaunted eye.

[5] While public wars were to decide the feuds of nations and of
tribes, a private war was considered right to settle individual
disputes. In this private hostility, however, the kindred of both
parties were obliged to espouse the quarrel, or forfeit all the rights
and privileges of relationship; and it may be easily believed, from the
inveteracy that marks all intestine discord, that these wars were waged
with every possible refinement of ferocious revenge.

[6] A remarkable instance of this influence of brute force, that set at
defiance all power and subordination, occurs in the history of Clovis,
whose soldiers having plundered a church, and borne away various sacred
utensils of great value, the bishop sent a deputation to the prince
to solicit the restoration of a certain precious and sanctified vase.
Clovis replied that when the booty was divided, if this vase fell to
his lot, it should be immediately returned. Arrived at Soissons, the
prince requested as a favour that this vessel should be allowed him as
the only share of booty he would claim. All appeared willing to comply
with this request; when a fierce soldier, striking the holy vessel with
his battle-axe, exclaimed in a thundering voice, “You shall secure
nothing here but that which the lot shall give you.” And there is but
little doubt, that, had Clovis persisted, the battle-axe would have
lighted upon his head.

[7] The accused was also sometimes obliged to walk barefoot and
blindfold over nine red-hot ploughshares, laid lengthwise at unequal
distances.

[8] This cut of the sabre is to this day called _coup de Jarnac_.

[9] The expressions quoted by the chronicler were affecting beyond
translation. _Sire je vous le donne--prenez-le pour Dieu! et l’amour
que vous l’avez nourri_; but the romantic monarch was deaf to the
entreaty!

[10] This accident was strangely commented on by the theologic writers
of the time, as appears by the following extract from Cockburn:--

“There was another observation made of this (accident), not only
by the Protestants, but some of the moderate Roman Catholics, and
which disposed some to turn Protestants. For this King Henry, by the
persuasion of Cardinal Lorrain, had begun a severe persecution of the
Protestants; and said, as was reported of him, that he _would raise a
mountain out of the ashes of Protestants that should be burned, higher
than any in France_: and, a day or two before, the Count Montmorency,
by an order brought him by Oliver the Chancellor, seized and committed
to the Bastile eleven eminent councillors and members of the Parliament
of Paris, who lay under suspicion of favouring the Protestant doctrine:
wherefore it was concluded and believed a visible and just judgment of
God for avenging the blood of some of his servants, and the intended
cruelty against others, that the King should receive his death by
the same hand which seized these innocent men, in the very face of
the Bastile where they were imprisoned, and that he should die too
between twelve and one, the same hour in which he signed the order for
seizing them. Thuanus reports that it was given out that King Henry
said to those who came to take him up, that ‘_he was afraid he had
been injurious to those innocent persons_,’ pointing to the Bastile;
which Cardinal Lorrain checked in great wrath, telling him that these
thoughts proceeded from an evil spirit. It is also remarkable how that
the same Count Montgomery had afterwards his head struck off publicly
at Paris, being condemned for treason because he joined the Prince of
Condé’s party against the Queen and the Regency.”

[11] A still more ingenious mode of fighting was adopted by a young
soldier, of a diminutive stature, who had been insulted by a tall
sturdy Gascon: he insisted that they should both wear a steel collar
round their necks, bristled with pointed blades as sharp as razors;
and, wearing no armour, their bodies and limbs were exposed to the
swords of each other. By this invention the little man could look up at
his antagonist without any danger; while the tall fellow could not look
down at his adversary without cutting his chin with the acerated points
of his collar, in consequence of which he was soon run through the body.

[12] In Lady Blessington’s “Idler in Italy,” we find the following
feminine remark, when speaking of Nice:--

“A marble cross marks the spot at Nice where an interview took place
between Francis I, Charles V, and Pope Paul III. As I stood on the
spot, I could call up to my mind’s eye these three remarkable men: but
I found my fancy more disposed to dwell on the chivalrous sovereign
of France than on the gloomy warrior of Spain, who exchanged a throne
for a convent, or the churchman, who established the inquisition. I
believe, all women take a stronger interest in the memory of two French
monarchs of ancient days, than in that of any of their contemporaries.
I refer to Henry IV. and Francis I; both were distinguished by great
bravery and courtesy, which have a peculiar attraction for ladies; and
the weaknesses of which they are accused, are such as women are most
disposed to pardon, except in the persons of their suitors or their
husbands.”

[13] Fougeroux de Campigneulles.

[14] _Botte_, in fencing, means a pass.

[15] A _bavaroise_ is a mixture of orgeat and tea.

[16] The late Charles X.

[17] It appears, that in the destruction of everything the mob found in
the house, they respected a portrait of the King.

[18] A Gascon term, meaning perverse and treacherous.

[19] Tâteurs.

[20] In one instance, the French officers went to the little _Theâtre
de la Gaieté_, then on the Allées Tourny, when a furious fray took
place between them and several British officers: although the latter
had no swords, the French drew theirs; but the British breaking up
chairs and tables, in a few minutes shivered their weapons, and knocked
them down in every direction. It is somewhat strange, but I was, in a
great measure, the means of terminating these differences. Coming out
of the theatre, I was assailed by a group of French officers; I calmly
replied, that if I had given offence to any of them, I was ready to
afford them any satisfaction, and dilated on the absurdity of making
a national war the subject of personal hostility, while I enlarged on
the friendly feeling that had prevailed between our armies during the
Peninsular war, and recalled to their recollection the many kind acts
that we had shown each other when prisoners and wounded. The officers
not only listened to me with the greatest attention, but one of them
actually hugged me in his rude embrace, and I was obliged to accompany
them to an hotel, and sup with the party. The next morning there was
not a French officer remaining in the town.

[21] This is a very judicious rule. An aged man may grievously offend
another, skreening himself by his age and infirmities; and he,
therefore, should be made personally responsible for his conduct,
and obliged to make a most humble apology, if he cannot afford what,
unfortunately, is considered personal satisfaction. This rule will also
prevent the sacrifice of life, to which filial affection might expose a
generous youth, who in his conscience may condemn his father’s conduct.

[22] This is a point of such vital importance, that it is impossible to
be too careful in ascertaining coolly and deliberately from which of
the parties the insult originated.

[23] To name a duel, refers to time and place.

[24] This is a point of great importance. It sometimes happens, that a
man who has insulted another, will select as his second some notorious
ruffian, who will, to use the common expression, “fix a quarrel” on
him, and endeavour to fight for his principal. Not long ago, a fellow
advertised himself in the public papers, to fight for any person who
might require his services.

[25] This rule is of importance. Forty-eight hours may be considered a
fair time to reflect upon the painful necessity of a hostile meeting;
and there is in general reason to suppose, that a challenge sent long
after a provocation, has been the result of the interference of _busy
friends_.

[26] Such an arrangement will frequently prevent fatal duels.

[27] Sword-knot.

[28] This is an important precaution, since a considerable advantage
will be obtained over an adversary, if the point of his sword should be
caught in the end of the handkerchief that hangs down.

[29] The trial by ramrod is an uncertain mode, as the depth of the
charge will vary according to the wadding; a regular powder-measure is
the only method that can ensure a fair proceeding; and, in loading by
measure, great care must be taken that the measure is given from hand
to hand. I have known a measure thrown upon the grass, (purposely or
not, I cannot presume to say,) and it was taken up quite wet by the
other party’s second, who, had he not perceived the circumstance, would
have loaded his friend’s pistol with damp powder.

[30] There is much judicious consideration in thus allowing great
advantage to the person who has received a blow, as it may tend
to render hasty subjects more cautious, not only from the just
apprehension of their affording considerable advantage to their
opponent, but of rushing into a quarrel of a desperate character.

[31] I cannot agree with this conclusion; a swordsman may so provoke
a cripple, that the latter, generally irascible, may so far forget
himself as to strike his offender: in such cases, a pistol meeting,
without taking aim, is the fairest mode of proceeding.

[32] Amongst these we may name Antonio Massa, Pomponio Torelli, Pigna,
Dario Attendolo, Suzio de la Mirandole, Fausto de Longiano, Possevino,
Rinaldo Corsa, Fabio Albergoti, Maffei.


[Transcriber’s Note:

Obvious printer errors corrected silently.

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]