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 disorganisation. 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 Abbé Millot says of
this period, that the duel madness made the most terrible ravages. Men had
actually a frenzy for combating. 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.[61]
[61] _Elémens 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 Valençay,
who was afterwards elevated to the rank of a cardinal, stood 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 Valençay, 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 Luçon, 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 Luçon 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'Angoulême,
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'arrêter 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 Beuvron; 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
both, 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.
[Illustration: SULLY.]
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.[62] 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.
[62] _Mercure de France_, vol. xiii.
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
disorganisation 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
Héricourt, 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 Héricourt, who
fell pierced to the heart by the sword of De Villars. Any thing 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 the 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 of
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.
At the same time that Louis published this severe edict, he exacted a
promise from his principal nobility that they would never engage in a duel
on any pretence whatever. He never swerved from his resolution to pursue
all duellists with the utmost rigour, and many were executed in various
parts of the country. A slight abatement of the evil was the consequence,
and in the course of a few years one duel was not fought where twelve had
been fought previously. A medal was struck to commemorate the
circumstance, by the express command of the king. So much had he this
object at heart, that, in his will, he particularly recommended to his
successor the care of his edict against duelling, and warned him against
any ill-judged lenity to those who disobeyed it.
A singular law formerly existed in Malta with regard to duelling. By this
law it was permitted, but only upon condition that the parties should
fight in one particular street. If they presumed to settle their quarrel
elsewhere, they were held guilty of murder, and punished accordingly. What
was also very singular, they were bound, under heavy penalties, to put up
their swords when requested to do so by a priest, a knight, or a woman. It
does not appear, however, that the ladies or the knights exercised this
mild and beneficent privilege to any great extent; the former were too
often themselves the cause of duels, and the latter sympathised too much
in the wounded honour of the combatants to attempt to separate them. The
priests alone were the great peacemakers. Brydone says, that a cross was
always painted on the wall opposite to the spot where a knight had been
killed, and that in the "street of duels" he counted about twenty of
them.[63]
[63] Brydone's _Tour in Malta_, 1772.
In England the private duel was also practised to a scandalous extent,
towards the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth
centuries. The judicial combat now began to be more rare, but several
instances of it are mentioned in history. One was instituted in the reign
of Elizabeth, and another so late as the time of Charles I. Sir Henry
Spelman gives an account of that which took place in Elizabeth's reign,
which is curious, perhaps the more so when we consider that it was
perfectly legal, and that similar combats remained so till the year 1819.
A proceeding having been instituted in the Court of Common Pleas for the
recovery of certain manorial rights in the county of Kent, the defendant
offered to prove by single combat his right to retain possession. The
plaintiff accepted the challenge, and the Court having no power to stay
the proceedings, agreed to the champions who were to fight in lieu of the
principals. The queen commanded the parties to compromise; but it being
represented to her majesty that they were justified by law in the course
they were pursuing, she allowed them to proceed. On the day appointed, the
justices of the Common Pleas, and all the counsel engaged in the cause,
appeared as umpires of the combat, at a place in Tothill-fields, where the
lists had been prepared. The champions were ready for the encounter, and
the plaintiff and defendant were publicly called to come forward and
acknowledge them. The defendant answered to his name, and recognised his
champion with the due formalities, but the plaintiff did not appear.
Without his presence and authority the combat could not take place; and
his absence being considered an abandonment of his claim, he was declared
to be non-suited, and barred for ever from renewing his suit before any
other tribunal whatever.
[Illustration: LORD BACON.]
The queen appears to have disapproved personally of this mode of settling
a disputed claim, but her judges and legal advisers made no attempt to
alter the barbarous law. The practice of private duelling excited more
indignation, from its being of every-day occurrence. In the time of James
I. the English were so infected with the French madness, that Bacon, when
he was attorney-general, lent the aid of his powerful eloquence to effect
a reformation of the evil. Informations were exhibited in the Star Chamber
against two persons, named Priest and Wright, for being engaged, as
principal and second, in a duel, on which occasion he delivered a charge
that was so highly approved of by the Lords of the Council, that they
ordered it to be printed and circulated over the country, as a thing "very
meet and worthy to be remembered and made known unto the world." He began
by considering the nature and greatness of the mischief of duelling. "It
troubleth peace--it disfurnisheth war--it bringeth calamity upon private
men, peril upon the state, and contempt upon the law. Touching the cause
of it," he observed, "that the first motive of it, no doubt, is a false
and erroneous imagination of honour and credit; but then, the seed of this
mischief being such, it is nourished by vain discourses and green and
unripe conceits. Hereunto may be added, that men have almost lost the true
notion and understanding of fortitude and valour. For fortitude
distinguisheth of the grounds of quarrel whether they be just; and not
only so, but whether they be worthy, and setteth a better price upon men's
lives than to bestow them idly. Nay, it is weakness and disesteem of a
man's self to put a man's life upon such liedger performances. A man's
life is not to be trifled with; it is to be offered up and sacrificed to
honourable services, public merits, good causes, and noble adventures. It
is in expense of blood as it is in expense of money. It is no liberality
to make a profusion of money upon every vain occasion, neither is it
fortitude to make effusion of blood, except the cause of it be worth."[64]
[64] See _Life and Character of Lord Bacon_, by Thomas Martin,
Barrister-at-Law.
The most remarkable event connected with duelling in this reign was that
between Lord Sanquir, a Scotch nobleman, and one Turner, a fencing-master.
In a trial of skill between them, his lordship's eye was accidentally
thrust out by the point of Turner's sword. Turner expressed great regret
at the circumstance, and Lord Sanquir bore his loss with as much
philosophy as he was master of, and forgave his antagonist. Three years
afterwards, Lord Sanquir was at Paris, where he was a constant visitor at
the court of Henry IV. One day, in the course of conversation, the affable
monarch inquired how he had lost his eye. Sanquir, who prided himself on
being the most expert swordsman of the age, blushed as he replied that it
was inflicted by the sword of a fencing-master. Henry, forgetting his
assumed character of an anti-duellist, carelessly, and as a mere matter of
course, inquired whether the man lived? Nothing more was said; but the
query sank deep into the proud heart of the Scotch baron, who returned
shortly afterwards to England, burning for revenge. His first intent was
to challenge the fencing-master to single combat; but, on further
consideration, he deemed it inconsistent with his dignity to meet him as
an equal in fair and open fight. He therefore hired two bravos, who set
upon the fencing-master, and murdered him in his own house at Whitefriars.
The assassins were taken and executed, and a reward of one thousand pounds
offered for the apprehension of their employer. Lord Sanquir concealed
himself for several days, and then surrendered to take his trial, in the
hope (happily false) that Justice would belie her name, and be lenient to
a murderer because he was a nobleman, who on a false point of honour had
thought fit to take revenge into his own hands. The most powerful
intercessions were employed in his favour, but James, to his credit, was
deaf to them all. Bacon, in his character of attorney-general, prosecuted
the prisoner to conviction; and he died the felon's death on the 29th of
June, 1612, on a gibbet erected in front of the gate of Westminster Hall.
With regard to the public duel, or trial by battle, demanded under the
sanction of the law, to terminate a quarrel which the ordinary course of
justice could with difficulty decide, Bacon was equally opposed to it, and
thought that in no case should it be granted. He suggested that there
should be declared a constant and settled resolution in the state to
abolish it altogether; that care should be taken that the evil be no more
cockered, nor the humour of it fed, but that all persons found guilty
should be rigorously punished by the Star Chamber, and those of eminent
quality banished from the court.
In the succeeding reign, when Donald Mackay, the first Lord Reay, accused
David Ramsay of treason, in being concerned with the Marquis of Hamilton
in a design upon the crown of Scotland, he was challenged by the latter to
make good his assertion by single combat.[65] It had been at first the
intention of the government to try the case by the common law, but Ramsay
thought he would stand a better chance of escape by recurring to the old
and almost exploded custom, but which was still the right of every man in
appeals of treason. Lord Reay readily accepted the challenge, and both
were confined in the Tower until they found security that they would
appear on a certain day appointed by the court to determine the question.
The management of the affair was delegated to the Marischal Court of
Westminster, and the Earl of Lindsay was created Lord Constable of England
for the purpose. Shortly before the day appointed, Ramsay confessed in
substance all that Lord Reay had laid to his charge, upon which Charles I.
put a stop to the proceedings.
[65] See _History of the House and Clan of Mackay_.
But in England, about this period, sterner disputes arose among men than
those mere individual matters which generate duels. The men of the
Commonwealth encouraged no practice of the kind, and the subdued
aristocracy carried their habits and prejudices elsewhere, and fought
their duels at foreign courts. Cromwell's parliament, however--although
the evil at that time was not so crying--published an order in 1654 for
the prevention of duels, and the punishment of all concerned in them.
Charles II., on his restoration, also issued a proclamation upon the
subject. In his reign an infamous duel was fought--infamous not only from
its own circumstances, but from the lenity that was shewn to the principal
offenders.