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.