partiality for knowing the adventures of noted rogues. Even in fiction
they are delightful: witness the eventful story of Gil Blas de Santillane,
and of that great rascal Don Guzman d'Alfarache. Here there is no fear of
imitation. Poets, too, without doing mischief, may sing of such heroes
when they please, wakening our sympathies for the sad fate of Jemmy
Dawson, or Gilderoy, or Macpherson the Dauntless; or celebrating in
undying verse the wrongs and the revenge of the great thief of Scotland,
Rob Roy. If, by the music of their sweet rhymes, they can convince the
world that such heroes are but mistaken philosophers, born a few ages too
late, and having both a theoretical and practical love for
"The good old rule, the simple plan,
That they should take who have the power,
That they should keep who can;"
the world may perhaps become wiser, and consent to some better
distribution of its good things, by means of which thieves may become
reconciled to the age, and the age to them. The probability, however,
seems to be, that the charmers will charm in vain, charm they ever so
wisely.
[Illustration: FIGHT BETWEEN DU GUESCLIN AND TROUSSEL.]
DUELS AND ORDEALS.
There was an ancient sage philosopher,
Who swore the world, as he could prove,
Was mad of fighting.--_Hudibras_.
Most writers, in accounting for the origin of duelling, derive it from the
warlike habits of those barbarous nations who overran Europe in the early
centuries of the Christian era, and who knew no mode so effectual for
settling their differences as the point of the sword. In fact, duelling,
taken in its primitive and broadest sense, means nothing more than
combating, and is the universal resort of all wild animals, including man,
to gain or defend their possessions, or avenge their insults. Two dogs who
tear each other for a bone, or two bantams fighting on a dunghill for the
love of some beautiful hen, or two fools on Wimbledon Common, shooting at
each other to satisfy the laws of offended honour, stand on the same
footing in this respect, and are each and all mere duellists. As
civilisation advanced, the best-informed men naturally grew ashamed of
such a mode of adjusting disputes, and the promulgation of some sort of
laws for obtaining redress for injuries was the consequence. Still there
were many cases in which the allegations of an accuser could not be
rebutted by any positive proof on the part of the accused; and in all
these, which must have been exceedingly numerous in the early stages of
European society, the combat was resorted to. From its decision there was
no appeal. God was supposed to nerve the arm of the combatant whose cause
was just, and to grant him the victory over his opponent. As Montesquieu
well remarks,[51] this belief was not unnatural among a people just
emerging from barbarism. Their manners being wholly warlike, the man
deficient in courage, the prime virtue of his fellows, was not
unreasonably suspected of other vices besides cowardice, which is
generally found to be co-existent with treachery. He, therefore, who
shewed himself most valiant in the encounter was absolved by public
opinion from any crime with which he might be charged. As a necessary
consequence, society would have been reduced to its original elements, if
the men of thought, as distinguished from the men of action, had not
devised some means for taming the unruly passions of their fellows. With
this view, governments commenced by restricting within the narrowest
possible limits the cases in which it was lawful to prove or deny guilt by
the single combat. By the law of Gondebaldus king of the Burgundians,
passed in the year 501, the proof by combat was allowed in all legal
proceedings in lieu of swearing. In the time of Charlemagne, the
Burgundian practice had spread over the empire of the Francs, and not only
the suitors for justice, but the witnesses, and even the judges, were
obliged to defend their cause, their evidence, or their decision at the
point of the sword. Louis the Debonnaire, his successor, endeavoured to
remedy the growing evil by permitting the duel only in appeals of felony,
in civil cases, or issue joined in a writ of right, and in cases of the
court of chivalry, or attacks upon a man's knighthood. None were exempt
from these trials but women, the sick and the maimed, and persons under
fifteen or above sixty years of age. Ecclesiastics were allowed to produce
champions in their stead. This practice in the course of time extended to
all trials of civil and criminal cases, which had to be decided by battle.
[51] _Esprit des Loix_, liv. xxviii. chap. xvii.
The clergy, whose dominion was an intellectual one, never approved of a
system of jurisprudence which tended so much to bring all things under the
rule of the strongest arm. From the first they set their faces against
duelling, and endeavoured, as far as the prejudices of their age would
allow them, to curb the warlike spirit, so alien from the principles of
religion. In the Council of Valentia, and afterwards in the Council of
Trent, they excommunicated all persons engaged in duelling; and not only
them, but even the assistants and spectators, declaring the custom to be
hellish and detestable, and introduced by the devil for the destruction
both of body and soul. They added also, that princes who connived at duels
should be deprived of all temporal power, jurisdiction, and dominion over
the places where they had permitted them to be fought. It will be seen
hereafter that this clause only encouraged the practice which it was
intended to prevent.
But it was the blasphemous error of these early ages to expect that the
Almighty, whenever he was called upon, would work a miracle in favour of a
person unjustly accused. The priesthood, in condemning the duel, did not
condemn the principle on which it was founded. They still encouraged the
popular belief of divine interference in all the disputes or differences
that might arise among nations or individuals. It was the very same
principle that regulated the ordeals, which with all their influence they
supported against the duel. By the former, the power of deciding the guilt
or innocence was vested wholly in their hands; while by the latter they
enjoyed no power or privilege at all. It is not to be wondered at that,
for this reason, if for no other, they should have endeavoured to settle
all differences by the peaceful mode. While that prevailed, they were, as
they wished to be, the first party in the state; but while the strong arm
of individual prowess was allowed to be the judge in all doubtful cases,
their power and influence became secondary to those of the nobility.
Thus it was not the mere hatred of bloodshed which induced them to launch
the thunderbolts of excommunication against the combatants: it was a
desire to retain the power, which, to do them justice, they were in those
times the persons best qualified to wield. The germs of knowledge and
civilisation lay within the bounds of their order; for they were the
representatives of the intellectual, as the nobility were of the physical
power of man. To centralise this power in the Church, and make it the
judge of the last resort in all appeals, both in civil and criminal cases,
they instituted five modes of trial, the management of which lay wholly in
their hands. These were, the oath upon the evangelists; the ordeal of the
cross and the fire ordeal, for persons in the higher ranks; the water
ordeal, for the humbler classes; and, lastly, the _corsned_, or bread and
cheese ordeal, for members of their own body.
The oath upon the evangelists was taken in the following manner. The
accused who was received to this proof, says Paul Hay, Count du Chastelet,
in his _Memoirs of Bertrand du Guesclin_, swore upon a copy of the New
Testament, and on the relics of the holy martyrs, or on their tombs, that
he was innocent of the crime imputed to him. He was also obliged to find
twelve persons of acknowledged probity who should take oath at the same
time that they believed him innocent. This mode of trial led to very great
abuses, especially in cases of disputed inheritance, where the hardest
swearer was certain of the victory. This abuse was one of the principal
causes which led to the preference given to the trial by battle. It is not
at all surprising that a feudal baron, or captain of the early ages,
should have preferred the chances of a fair fight with his opponent to a
mode by which firm perjury would always be successful.
The trial by, or judgment of, the cross, which Charlemagne begged his sons
to have recourse to, in case of disputes arising between them, was
performed thus:--When a person accused of any crime had declared his
innocence upon oath, and appealed to the cross for its judgment in his
favour, he was brought into the church, before the altar. The priests
previously prepared two sticks exactly like one another, upon one of which
was carved a figure of the cross. They were both wrapped up with great
care and many ceremonies, in a quantity of fine wool, and laid upon the
altar, or on the relics of the saints. A solemn prayer was then offered up
to God, that he would be pleased to discover, by the judgment of his holy
cross, whether the accused person were innocent or guilty. A priest then
approached the altar, and took up one of the sticks, and the assistants
unswathed it reverently. If it was marked with the cross, the accused
person was innocent; if unmarked, he was guilty. It would be unjust to
assert, that the judgments thus delivered were, in all cases, erroneous;
and it would be absurd to believe that they were left altogether to
chance. Many true judgments were doubtless given, and, in all probability,
most conscientiously; for we cannot but believe that the priests
endeavoured beforehand to convince themselves by secret inquiry and a
strict examination of the circumstances, whether the appellant were
innocent or guilty, and that they took up the crossed or uncrossed stick
accordingly. Although, to all other observers, the sticks, as enfolded in
the wool, might appear exactly similar, those who enwrapped them could,
without any difficulty, distinguish the one from the other.
By the fire-ordeal the power of deciding was just as unequivocally left in
their hands. It was generally believed that fire would not burn the
innocent, and the clergy, of course, took care that the innocent, or such
as it was their pleasure or interest to declare so, should be so warned
before undergoing the ordeal, as to preserve themselves without any
difficulty from the fire. One mode of ordeal was to place red-hot
ploughshares on the ground at certain distances, and then, blindfolding
the accused person, make him walk barefooted over them. If he stepped
regularly in the vacant spaces, avoiding the fire, he was adjudged
innocent; if he burned himself, he was declared guilty. As none but the
clergy interfered with the arrangement of the ploughshares, they could
always calculate beforehand the result of the ordeal. To find a person
guilty, they had only to place them at irregular distances, and the
accused was sure to tread upon one of them. When Emma, the wife of King
Ethelred, and mother of Edward the Confessor, was accused of a guilty
familiarity with Alwyn Bishop of Winchester, she cleared her character in
this manner. The reputation, not only of their order, but of a queen,
being at stake, a verdict of guilty was not to be apprehended from any
ploughshares which priests had the heating of. This ordeal was called the
_Judicium Dei_, and sometimes the _Vulgaris Purgatio_, and might also be
tried by several other methods. One was to hold in the hand, unhurt, a
piece of red-hot iron, of the weight of one, two, or three pounds. When we
read not only that men with hard hands, but women of softer and more
delicate skin, could do this with impunity, we must be convinced that the
hands were previously rubbed with some preservative, or that the
apparently hot iron was merely cold iron painted red. Another mode was to
plunge the naked arm into a caldron of boiling water. The priests then
enveloped it in several folds of linen and flannel, and kept the patient
confined within the church, and under their exclusive care, for three
days. If, at the end of that time, the arm appeared without a scar, the
innocence of the accused person was firmly established.[52]
[52] Very similar to this is the fire-ordeal of the modern
Hindoos, which is thus described in Forbes's _Oriental
Memoirs_, vol. i. c. xi.:--"When a man, accused of a capital
crime, chooses to undergo the ordeal trial, he is closely
confined for several days; his right hand and arm are covered
with thick wax-cloth, tied up and sealed, in the presence of
proper officers, to prevent deceit. In the English districts
the covering was always sealed with the Company's arms, and
the prisoner placed under an European guard. At the time
fixed for the ordeal, a caldron of oil is placed over a fire;
when it boils, a piece of money is dropped into the vessel;
the prisoner's arm is unsealed and washed in the presence of
his judges and accusers. During this part of the ceremony the
attendant Brahmins supplicate the Deity. On receiving their
benediction, the accused plunges his hand into the boiling
fluid, and takes out the coin. The arm is afterwards again
sealed up until the time appointed for a re-examination. The
seal is then broken; if no blemish appears, the prisoner is
declared innocent; if the contrary, he suffers the punishment
due to his crime."... On this trial the accused thus
addresses the element before plunging his hand into the
boiling oil:--"Thou, O fire! pervadest all things. O cause of
purity! who givest evidence of virtue and of sin, declare the
truth in this my hand!" If no juggling were practised, the
decisions by this ordeal would be all the same way; but as
some are by this means declared guilty, and others innocent,
it is clear that the Brahmins, like the Christian priests of
the middle ages, practise some deception in saving those whom
they wish to be thought guiltless.
As regards the water-ordeal, the same trouble was not taken. It was a
trial only for the poor and humble, and, whether they sank or swam, was
thought of very little consequence. Like the witches of more modern times,
the accused were thrown into a pond or river; if they sank, and were
drowned, their surviving friends had the consolation of knowing that they
were innocent; if they swam, they were guilty. In either case society was
rid of them.
But of all the ordeals, that which the clergy reserved for themselves was
the one least likely to cause any member of their corps to be declared
guilty. The most culpable monster in existence came off clear when tried
by this method. It was called the _Corsned_, and was thus performed. A
piece of barley bread and a piece of cheese were laid upon the altar, and
the accused priest, in his full canonicals, and surrounded by all the
pompous adjuncts of Roman ceremony, pronounced certain conjurations, and
prayed with great fervency for several minutes. The burden of the prayer
was, that if he were guilty of the crime laid to his charge, God would
send his angel Gabriel to stop his throat, that he might not be able to
swallow the bread and cheese. There is no instance upon record of a priest
having been choked in this manner.[53]
[53] An ordeal very like this is still practised in India.
Consecrated rice is the article chosen, instead of bread and
cheese. Instances are not rare in which, through the force of
imagination, guilty persons are not able to swallow a single
grain. Conscious of their crime, and fearful of the
punishment of Heaven, they feel a suffocating sensation in
their throat when they attempt it, and they fall on their
knees, and confess all that is laid to their charge. The same
thing, no doubt, would have happened with the bread and
cheese of the Roman Church, if it had been applied to any
others but ecclesiastics. The latter had too much wisdom to
be caught in a trap of their own setting.
When, under Pope Gregory VII., it was debated whether the Gregorian chant
should be introduced into Castile, instead of the Musarabic, given by St.
Isidore of Seville to the churches of that kingdom, very much ill feeling
was excited. The churches refused to receive the novelty, and it was
proposed that the affair should be decided by a battle between two
champions, one chosen from each side. The clergy would not consent to a
mode of settlement which they considered impious, but had no objection to
try the merits of each chant by the fire-ordeal. A great fire was
accordingly made, and a book of the Gregorian and one of the Musarabic
chant were thrown into it, that the flames might decide which was most
agreeable to God by refusing to burn it. Cardinal Baronius, who says he
was an eye-witness of the miracle, relates, that the book of the Gregorian
chant was no sooner laid upon the fire, than it leaped out uninjured,
visibly, and with a great noise. Every one present thought that the saints
had decided in favour of Pope Gregory. After a slight interval, the fire
was extinguished; but, wonderful to relate! the other book of St. Isidore
was found covered with ashes, but not injured in the slightest degree. The
flames had not even warmed it. Upon this it was resolved, that both were
alike agreeable to God, and that they should be used by turns in all the
churches of Seville.[54]
[54] _Histoire de Messire Bertrand du Guesclin_, par Paul Hay du
Chastelet, liv. i. ch. xix.
If the ordeals had been confined to questions like this, the laity would
have had little or no objection to them; but when they were introduced as
decisive in all the disputes that might arise between man and man, the
opposition of all those whose prime virtue was personal bravery, was
necessarily excited. In fact, the nobility, from a very early period,
began to look with jealous eyes upon them. They were not slow to perceive
their true purport, which was no other than to make the Church the last
court of appeal in all cases, both civil and criminal: and not only did
the nobility prefer the ancient mode of single combat from this cause, in
itself a sufficient one, but they clung to it because an acquittal gained
by those displays of courage and address which the battle afforded, was
more creditable in the eyes of their compeers, than one which it required
but little or none of either to accomplish. To these causes may be added
another, which was perhaps more potent than either in raising the credit
of the judicial combat at the expense of the ordeal. The noble institution
of chivalry was beginning to take root, and, notwithstanding the clamours
of the clergy, war was made the sole business of life, and the only
elegant pursuit of the aristocracy. The fine spirit of honour was
introduced, any attack upon which was only to be avenged in the lists,
within sight of applauding crowds, whose verdict of approbation was far
more gratifying than the cold and formal acquittal of the ordeal.
Lothaire, the son of Louis I., abolished that by fire and the trial of the
cross within his dominions; but in England they were allowed so late as
the time of Henry III., in the early part of whose reign they were
prohibited by an order of council. In the mean time, the Crusades had
brought the institution of chivalry to the full height of perfection. The
chivalric spirit soon achieved the downfall of the ordeal system, and
established the judicial combat on a basis too firm to be shaken. It is
true that with the fall of chivalry, as an institution, fell the
tournament and the encounter in the lists; but the duel, their offspring,
has survived to this day, defying the efforts of sages and philosophers to
eradicate it. Among all the errors bequeathed to us by a barbarous age, it
has proved the most pertinacious. It has put variance between men's reason
and their honour; put the man of sense on a level with the fool, and made
thousands who condemn it submit to it or practise it.
Those who are curious to see the manner in which these combats were
regulated, may consult the learned Montesquieu, where they will find a
copious summary of the code of ancient duelling.[55] Truly does he remark,
in speaking of the clearness and excellence of the arrangements, that, as
there were many wise matters which were conducted in a very foolish
manner, so there were many foolish matters conducted very wisely. No
greater exemplification of it could be given than the wise and religious
rules of the absurd and blasphemous trial by battle.
[55] _Esprit des Loix_, liv. xxviii. ch. xxv.
In the ages that intervened between the Crusades and the new era that was
opened out by the invention of gunpowder and printing, a more rational
system of legislation took root. The inhabitants of cities, engaged in the
pursuits of trade and industry, were content to acquiesce in the decisions
of their judges and magistrates whenever any differences arose among them.
Unlike the class above them, their habits and manners did not lead them to
seek the battle-field on every slight occasion. A dispute as to the price
of a sack of corn, a bale of broad-cloth, or a cow, could be more
satisfactorily adjusted before the mayor or bailiff of their district.
Even the martial knights and nobles, quarrelsome as they were, began to
see that the trial by battle would lose its dignity and splendour if too
frequently resorted to. Governments also shared this opinion, and on
several occasions restricted the cases in which it was legal to proceed to
this extremity. In France, before the time of Louis IX., duels were
permitted only in cases of _lèse majesté_, _rape_, _incendiarism_,
_assassination_, and _burglary_. Louis IX., by taking off all restriction,
made them legal in civil cases. This was not found to work well, and, in
1303, Philip the Fair judged it necessary to confine them, in criminal
matters, to state offences, rape, and incendiarism; and in civil cases, to
questions of disputed inheritance. Knighthood was allowed to be the best
judge of its own honour, and might defend or avenge it as often as
occasion arose.
Among the earliest duels upon record, is a very singular one that took
place in the reign of Louis II. (A. D. 878). Ingelgerius count of
Gastinois was one morning discovered by his countess dead in bed at her
side. Gontran, a relation of the count, accused the countess of having
murdered her husband, to whom, he asserted, she had long been unfaithful,
and challenged her to produce a champion to do battle in her behalf, that
he might establish her guilt by killing him.[56] All the friends and
relatives of the countess believed in her innocence; but Gontran was so
stout and bold and renowned a warrior that no one dared to meet him, for
which, as Brantôme quaintly says, "mauvais et poltrons parens estaient."
The unhappy countess began to despair, when a champion suddenly appeared
in the person of Ingelgerius count of Anjou, a boy of sixteen years of
age, who had been held by the countess on the baptismal font, and received
her husband's name. He tenderly loved his godmother, and offered to do
battle in her cause against any and every opponent. The king endeavoured
to persuade the generous boy from his enterprise, urging the great
strength, tried skill, and invincible courage of the challenger; but he
persisted in his resolution, to the great sorrow of all the court, who
said it was a cruel thing to permit so brave and beautiful a child to rush
to such butchery and death.
[56] _Mémoires de Brantôme touchant les Duels_.
[Illustration: DUEL BETWEEN INGELGERIUS AND GONTRAN.]