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.”