the King having intimated his intention of being present. La
Chataigneraie made sure of the victory, and invited the King and a
hundred and fifty of the principal personages of the court to sup with
him in the evening, after the battle, in a splendid tent, which he had
prepared at the extremity of the lists. De Jarnac was not so confident,
though perhaps more desperate. At noon, on the day appointed, the
combatants met, and each took the customary oath, that he bore no charms
or amulets about him, or made use of any magic, to aid him against
his antagonist. They then attacked each other, sword in hand. La
Chataigneraie was a strong, robust man, and over confident; De Jarnac
was nimble, supple, and prepared for the worst. The combat lasted for
some time doubtful, until De Jarnac, overpowered by the heavy blows
of his opponent, covered his head with his shield, and, stooping
down, endeavoured to make amends by his agility for his deficiency of
strength. In this crouching posture he aimed two blows at the left thigh
of La Chataigneraie, who had left it uncovered, that the motion of
his leg might not be impeded. Each blow was successful, and, amid the
astonishment of all the spectators, and to the great regret of the King,
La Chataigneraie rolled over upon the sand. He seized his dagger, and
made a last effort to strike De Jarnac; but he was unable to support
himself, and fell powerless into the arms of the assistants. The
officers now interfered, and De Jarnac being declared the victor,
fell down upon his knees, uncovered his head, and, clasping his hands
together, exclaimed:--"O Domine, non sum dignus!" La Chataigneraie was
so mortified by the result of the encounter, that he resolutely refused
to have his wounds dressed. He tore off the bandages which the surgeons
applied, and expired two days afterwards. Ever since that time, any sly
and unforeseen attack has been called by the French a coup de Jarnac.
Henry was so grieved at the loss of his favourite, that he made the
solemn oath already alluded to, that he would never again, so long as
he lived, permit a due]. Some writers have asserted, and among others,
Mezeraie, that he issued a royal edict forbidding them. This has been
doubted by others, and, as there appears no registry of the edict in
any of the courts, it seems most probable that it was never issued.
This opinion is strengthened by the fact, that two years afterwards, the
council ordered another duel to be fought, with similar forms, but with
less magnificence, on account of the inferior rank of the combatants.
It is not anywhere stated, that Henry interfered to prevent it,
notwithstanding his solemn oath; but that, on the contrary, he
encouraged it, and appointed the Marshal de la Marque to see that it
was conducted according to the rules of chivalry. The disputants were
Fendille and D'Aguerre, two gentlemen of the household, who, quarrelling
in the King's chamber, had proceeded from words to blows. The council,
being informed of the matter, decreed that it could only be decided in
the lists. Marshal de la Marque, with the King's permission, appointed
the city of Sedan as the place of combat. Fendille, who was a bad
swordsman, was anxious to avoid an encounter with D'Aguerre, who was
one of the most expert men of the age; but the council authoritatively
commanded that he should fight, or be degraded from all his honours.
D'Aguerre appeared in the field attended by Francois de Vendome, Count
de Chartres, while Fendille was accompanied by the Duke de Nevers.
Fendille appears to have been not only an inexpert swordsman, but a
thorough coward; one who, like Cowley, might have heaped curses on the
man,
"-------(Death's factor sure), who brought
Dire swords into this peaceful world."
On the very first encounter he was thrown from his horse, and,
confessing on the ground all that his victor required of him, slunk away
ignominiously from the arena.
One is tempted to look upon the death of Henry II as a judgment upon
him for his perjury in the matter of duelling. In a grand tournament
instituted on the occasion of the marriage of his daughter, he broke
several lances in encounters with some of the bravest knights of the
time. Ambitious of still further renown, he would not rest satisfied
until he had also engaged the young Count de Montgomeri. He received a
wound in the eye from the lance of this antagonist, and died from its
effects shortly afterwards, in the forty-first year of his age.
In the succeeding reigns of Francis II, Charles IX, and Henry III, the
practice of duelling increased to an alarming extent. Duels were not
rare in the other countries of Europe at the same period; but in
France they were so frequent, that historians, in speaking of that age,
designate it as "l'epoque de la fureur des duels." The Parliament
of Paris endeavoured, as far as in its power lay, to discourage the
practice. By a decree dated the 26th of June 1559, it declared all
persons who should be present at duels, or aiding and abetting in them,
to be rebels to the King, transgressors of the law, and disturbers of
the public peace.
When Henry III was assassinated at St. Cloud, in 1589, a young
gentleman, named L'isle Marivaut, who had been much beloved by him, took
his death so much to heart, that he resolved not to survive him. Not
thinking suicide an honourable death, and wishing, as he said, to die
gloriously in revenging his King and master, he publicly expressed his
readiness to fight anybody to the death who should assert that Henry's
assassination was not a great misfortune to the community. Another
youth, of a fiery temper and tried courage, named Marolles, took him at
his word, and the day and place of the combat were forthwith appointed.
When the hour had come, and all were ready, Marolles turned to his
second, and asked whether his opponent had a casque or helmet only, or
whether he wore a sallade, or headpiece. Being answered a helmet only,
he said gaily, "So much the better; for, sir, my second, you shall
repute me the wickedest man in all the world, if I do not thrust my
lance right through the the middle of his head and kill him." Truth to
say, he did so at the very first onset, and the unhappy L'isle Marivaut
expired without a groan. Brantome, who relates this story, adds, that
the victor might have done as he pleased with the body, cut off the
head, dragged it out of the camp, or exposed it upon an ass, but that,
being a wise and very courteous gentleman, he left it to the relatives
of the deceased to be honourably buried, contenting himself with the
glory of his triumph, by which he gained no little renown and honour
among the ladies of Paris.
On the accession of Henry IV that monarch pretended to set his face
against duelling; but such was the influence of early education and the
prejudices of society upon him, that he never could find it in his
heart to punish a man for this offence. He thought it tended to foster a
warlike spirit among his people. When the chivalrous Crequi demanded
his permission to fight Don Philippe de Savoire, he is reported to have
said, "Go, and if I were not a King, I would be your second." It is
no wonder that when such were known to be the King's disposition, his
edicts attracted but small attention. A calculation was made by M. de
Lomenie, in the year 1607, that since the accession of Henry, in 1589,
no less than four thousand French gentlemen had lost their lives in
these conflicts, which, for the eighteen years, would have been at
the rate of four or five in a week, or eighteen per month! Sully, who
reports this fact in his Memoirs, does not throw the slightest doubt
upon its exactness, and adds, that it was chiefly owing to the facility
and ill-advised good-nature of his royal master that the bad example
had so empoisoned the court, the city, and the whole country. This wise
minister devoted much of his time and attention to the subject; for the
rage, he says, was such as to cause him a thousand pangs, and the King
also. There was hardly a man moving in what was called good society,
who had not been engaged in a duel either as principal or second; and
if there were such a man, his chief desire was to free himself from the
imputation of non-duelling, by picking a quarrel with somebody. Sully
constantly wrote letters to the King, in which he prayed him to renew
the edicts against this barbarous custom, to aggravate the punishment
against offenders, and never, in any instance, to grant a pardon, even
to a person who had wounded another in a duel, much less to any one who
had taken away life. He also advised, that some sort of tribunal, or
court of honour, should be established, to take cognizance of injurious
and slanderous language, and of all such matters as usually led to
duels; and that the justice to be administered by this court should be
sufficiently prompt and severe to appease the complainant, and make the
offender repent of his aggression.
Henry, being so warmly pressed by his friend and minister, called
together an extraordinary council in the gallery of the palace of
Fontainebleau, to take the matter into consideration. When all
the members were assembled, his Majesty requested that some person
conversant with the subject would make a report to him on the origin,
progress, and different forms of the duel. Sully complacently remarks,
that none of the counsllors gave the King any great reason to felicitate
them on their erudition. In fact, they all remained silent. Sully held
his peace with the rest; but he looked so knowing, that the King turned
towards him, and said:--"Great master! by your face I conjecture that
you know more of this matter than you would have us believe. I pray
you, and indeed I command, that you tell us what you think and what you
know." The coy minister refused, as he says, out of mere politeness to
his more ignorant colleagues; but, being again pressed by the King, he
entered into a history of duelling both in ancient and modern times.
He has not preserved this history in his Memoirs; and, as none of the
ministers or counsellors present thought proper to do so, the world is
deprived of a discourse which was, no doubt, a learned and remarkable
one. The result was, that a royal edict was issued, which Sully lost
no time in transmitting to the most distant provinces, with a distinct
notification to all parties concerned that the King was in earnest, and
would exert the full rigour of the law in punishment of the offenders.
Sully himself does not inform us what were the provisions of the new
law; but Father Matthias has been more explicit, and from him we learn,
that the Marshals of France were created judges of a court of chivalry,
for the hearing of all causes wherein the honour of a noble or gentleman
was concerned, and that such as resorted to duelling should be punished
by death and confiscation of property, and that the seconds and
assistants should lose their rank, dignity, or offices, and be banished
from the court of their sovereign. [Le Pere Matthias, tome ii. livre
iv.]
But so strong a hold had the education and prejudice of his age upon
the mind of the King, that though his reason condemned, his sympathies
approved the duel. Notwithstanding this threatened severity, the number
of duels did not diminish, and the wise Sully had still to lament the
prevalence of an evil which menaced society with utter disorganization.
In the succeeding reign the practice prevailed, if possible, to a still
greater extent, until the Cardinal de Richelieu, better able to grapple
with it than Sully had been, made some severe examples in the very
highest classes. Lord Herbert, the English ambassador at the court
of Louis XIII repeats, in his letters, an observation that had been
previously made in the reign of Henry IV, that it was rare to find a
Frenchman moving in good society who had not killed his man in a duel.
The Abbe Millot says of this period, that the duel madness made the most
terrible ravages. Men had actually a frenzy for combatting. Caprice and
vanity, as well as the excitement of passion, imposed the necessity
of fighting. Friends were obliged to enter into the quarrels of their
friends, or be themselves called out for their refusal, and revenge
became hereditary in many families. It was reckoned that in twenty years
eight thousand letters of pardon had been issued to persons who had
killed others in single combat. ["Elemens de l'Histoire de France, vol.
iii. p. 219.]
Other writers confirm this statement. Amelot de Houssaye, in his
Memoirs, says, upon this subject, that duels were so common in the first
years of the reign of Louis XIII, that the ordinary conversation of
persons when they met in the morning was, "Do you know who fought
yesterday?" and after dinner, "Do you know who fought this morning?" The
most infamous duellist at that period was De Bouteville. It was not at
all necessary to quarrel with this assassin to be forced to fight a duel
with him. When he heard that any one was very brave, he would go to
him, and say, "People tell me that you are brave; you and I must fight
together!" Every morning the most notorious bravos and duellists used
to assemble at his house, to take a breakfast of bread and wine, and
practise fencing. M. de Valencay, who was afterwards elevated to the
rank of a cardinal, ranked very high in the estimation of De Bouteville
and his gang. Hardly a day passed but what he was engaged in some duel
or other, either as principal or second; and he once challenged De
Bouteville himself, his best friend, because De Bouteville had fought
a duel without inviting him to become his second. This quarrel was only
appeased on the promise of De Bouteville that, in his next encounter,
he would not fail to avail himself of his services. For that purpose he
went out the same day, and picked a quarrel with the Marquis des Portes.
M. de Valencay, according to agreement, had the pleasure of serving as
his second, and of running through the body M. de Cavois, the second
of the Marquis des Portes, a man who had never done him any injury, and
whom he afterwards acknowledged he had never seen before.
Cardinal Richelieu devoted much attention to this lamentable state of
public morals, and seems to have concurred with his great predecessor,
Sully, that nothing but the most rigorous severity could put a stop
to the evil. The subject indeed was painfully forced upon him by his
enemies. The Marquis de Themines, to whom Richelieu, then Bishop of
Lucon, had given offence by some representations he had made to Mary of
Medicis, determined, since he could not challenge an ecclesiastic,
to challenge his brother. An opportunity was soon found. Themines,
accosting the Marquis de Richelieu, complained, in an insulting tone,
that the Bishop of Lucon had broken his faith. The Marquis resented both
the manner and matter of his speech, and readily accepted a challenge.
They met in the Rue d'Angouleme, and the unfortunate Richelieu was
stabbed to the heart, and instantly expired. From that moment the
Bishop became the steady foe of the practice of duelling. Reason and the
impulse of brotherly love alike combined to make him detest it, and
when his power in France was firmly established, he set vigorously
about repressing it. In his "Testament Politique," he has collected his
thoughts upon the subject, in the chapter entitled "Des moyens d'arreter
les Duels." In spite of the edicts that he published, the members of
the nobility persisted in fighting upon the most trivial and absurd
pretences. At last Richelieu made a terrible example. The infamous De
Bouteville challenged and fought the Marquis de Beuoron; and, although
the duel itself was not fatal to either, its consequences were fatal to
both. High as they were, Richelieu resolved that the law should reach
them, and they were both tried, found guilty, and beheaded. Thus did
society get rid of one of the most bloodthirsty scoundrels that ever
polluted it.
In 1632 two noblemen fought a duel, in which they were both killed. The
officers of justice had notice of the breach of the law, and arrived at
the scene of combat before the friends of the parties had time to remove
the bodies. In conformity with the Cardinal's severe code upon the
subject, the bodies were ignominiously stripped, and hanged upon a
gallows, with their heads downwards, for several hours, within sight of
all the people. [Mercure de France, vol. xiii.] This severity sobered
the frenzy of the nation for a time; but it was soon forgotten. Men's
minds were too deeply imbued with a false notion of honour to be
brought to a right way of thinking: by such examples, however striking,
Richelieu was unable to persuade them to walk in the right path, though
he could punish them for choosing the wrong one. He had, with all his
acuteness, miscalculated the spirit of duelling. It was not death that
a duellist feared: it was shame, and the contempt of his fellows. As
Addison remarked more than eighty years afterwards, "Death was not
sufficient to deter men who made it their glory to despise it; but
if every one who fought a duel were to stand in the pillory, it would
quickly diminish the number of those imaginary men of honour, and put an
end to so absurd a practice." Richelieu never thought of this.
Sully says, that in his time the Germans were also much addicted to
duelling. There were three places where it was legal to fight; Witzburg,
in Franconia, and Uspach and Halle, in Swabia. Thither, of course, vast
numbers repaired, and murdered each other under sanction of the law. At
an earlier period, in Germany, it was held highly disgraceful to refuse
to fight. Any one who surrendered to his adversary for a simple wound
that did not disable him, was reputed infamous, and could neither cut
his beard, bear arms, mount on horseback, or hold any Office in the
state. He who fell in a duel was buried with great pomp and splendour.
In the year 1652, just after Louis XIV had attained his majority, a
desperate duel was fought between the Dukes de Beaufort and De Nemours,
each attended by four gentlemen. Although brothers-in-law, they had
long been enemies, and their constant dissensions had introduced much
disorganization among the troops which they severally commanded. Each
had long sought an opportunity for combat, which at last arose on a
misunderstanding relative to the places they were to occupy at the
council board. They fought with pistols, and, at the first discharge,
the Duke de Nemours was shot through the body, and almost instantly
expired. Upon this the Marquis de Villars, who seconded Nemours,
challenged Hericourt, the second of the Duke de Beaufort, a man whom
he had never before seen; and the challenge being accepted, they fought
even more desperately than their principals. This combat, being with
swords, lasted longer than the first, and was more exciting to the six
remaining gentlemen who stayed to witness it. The result was fatal to
Hericourt, who fell pierced to the heart by the sword of De Villars.
Anything more savage than this can hardly be imagined. Voltaire
says such duels were frequent, and the compiler of the "Dictionnaire
d'Anecdotes" informs us, that the number of seconds was not fixed. As
many as ten, or twelve, or twenty, were not unfrequent, and they often
fought together after their principals were disabled. The highest mark
of friendship one man could manifest towards another, was to choose him
for his second; and many gentlemen were so desirous of serving in this
capacity, that they endeavoured to raise every slight misunderstanding
into a quarrel, that they might have the pleasure of being engaged
in it. The Count de Bussy Rabutin relates an instance of this in his
Memoirs. He says, that as he was one evening coming out of the theatre,
a gentleman, named Bruc, whom he had not before known, stopped him very
politely, and, drawing him aside, asked him if it was true that the
Count de Thianges had called him (Bruc) a drunkard? Bussy replied, that
he really did not know, for he saw the Count very seldom. "Oh! he is
your uncle!" replied Bruc; "and, as I cannot have satisfaction from him,
because he lives so far off in the country, I apply to you." "I see what
you are at," replied Bussy, "and, since you wish to put me in my uncle's
place, I answer, that whoever asserted that he called you a drunkard,
told a lie!" "My brother said so," replied Bruc, "and he is a child."
"Horsewhip him, then, for his falsehood," returned De Bussy. "I will
not have my brother called a liar," returned Bruc, determined to quarrel
with him; "so draw, and defend yourself!" They both drew their swords
in the public street, but were separated by the spectators. They agreed,
however, to fight on a future occasion, and with all regular forms of
the duello. A few days afterwards, a gentleman, whom De Bussy had never
before seen, and whom he did not know, even by name, called upon him,
and asked if he might have the privilege of serving as his second. He
added, that he neither knew him nor Bruc, except by reputation, but,
having made up his mind to be second to one of them, he had decided upon
accompanying De Bussy as the braver man of the two. De Bussy thanked him
very sincerely for his politeness, but begged to be excused, as he had
already engaged four seconds to accompany him, and he was afraid that if
he took any more, the affair would become a battle instead of a duel.
When such quarrels as these were looked upon as mere matters of course,
the state of society must have been indeed awful. Louis XIV very early
saw the evil, and as early determined to remedy it. It was not, however,
till the year 1679, when he instituted the "Chambre Ardente," for the
trial of the slow poisoners and pretenders to sorcery, that he
published any edict against duelling. In that year his famous edict was
promulgated, in which he reiterated and confirmed the severe enactments
of his predecessors, Henry IV and Louis XIII, and expressed his
determination never to pardon any offender. By this celebrated ordinance
a supreme court of honour was established, composed of the Marshals of
France. They were bound, on taking the office, to give to every one who
brought a well-founded complaint before them, such reparation as would
satisfy the justice of the case. Should any gentleman against whom
complaint was made refuse to obey the mandate of the court of honour,
he might be punished by fine and imprisonment; and when that was not
possible, by reason of his absenting himself from the kingdom, his
estates might be confiscated till his return.
Every man who sent a challenge, be the cause of offence what it might,
was deprived of all redress from the court of honour--suspended
three years from the exercise of any office in the state--was further
imprisoned for two years, and sentenced to pay a fine of half his yearly
income. He who accepted a challenge, was subject to the same punishment.
Any servant, or other person, who knowingly became the bearer of a
challenge, was, if found guilty, sentenced to stand in the pillory and
be publicly whipped for the first offence, and for the second, sent for
three years to the galleys.
Any person who actually fought, was to be held guilty of murder, even
though death did not ensue, and was to be punished accordingly. Persons
in the higher ranks of life were to be beheaded, and those of the middle
class hanged upon a gallows, and their bodies refused Christian burial.