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.