Читать книгу The History of Duelling (Vol.1&2) - J. G. Millingen - Страница 10

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France may be considered the classic ground of duelling, the field of single combat par excellence; whence, from the duchy of Normandy, as we have already seen, it was introduced into the British isles.

If we are indebted to our neighbours for this practice, it is also to them that we owe the various codes and regulations drawn out to equalize, as far as possible, the chances of victory, and to prevent any unfair advantages being obtained to the prejudice of the opposite party. Of these various documents, possibly the rules given by Brantôme may be considered the most curious.

In the first instance, he says:—“On no account whatever let an infidel be brought out as a second or a witness: it is not proper that an unbeliever should witness the shedding of Christian blood, which would delight him; and it is moreover abominable that such a wretch should be allowed such an honourable pastime.

“The combatants must be carefully examined and felt, to ascertain that they have no particular drugs, witchcraft, or charms about them. It is allowed to wear on such occasions some relics of Our Lady of Loretto, and other holy objects; yet it is not clearly decided what is to be done when both parties have not these relics, as no advantage should be allowed to one combatant more than to another.

“It is idle to dwell upon courtesies: the man who steps into the field must have made up his mind to conquer or die, but, above all things, never to surrender; for the conqueror may treat the vanquished as he thinks proper—drag him round the ground, hang him, burn him, keep him a prisoner, in short, do with him whatever he pleases. The Danes and Lombards, in this, imitated Achilles, who, after his combat with Hector, dragged him three times round the walls at the tail of his triumphant car.

“Every gallant knight must maintain the honour of ladies, whether they may have forfeited it or not—if it can be said that a gentille dame can have forfeited her honour by kindness to her servant and her lover. A soldier may fight his captain, provided he has been two years upon actual service, and he quits his company.

“If a father accuses a son of any crime that may tend to dishonour him, the son may demand satisfaction of his father; since he has done him more injury by dishonouring him, than he had bestowed advantage by giving him life.”

Notwithstanding Brantôme’s authority, the right of a soldier to call out his captain has been a questionable point; and La Béraudière, and Basnage, and Alciat have discussed the point very minutely. The last author came to the conclusion that such a meeting could only be tolerated when both parties were off duty—post functionem secus. The same learned writer maintains that you can only refuse to fight a bastard; and he therefore strongly recommends all noblemen to legitimatize their sons, that they may be rendered worthy of the honour of knighthood and of duelling: and he further declares, that all challenges from a roturier, a mere citizen, or a man in business, must be considered as null and void.

There is a passage in Brantôme which singularly applies to modern France, as regards the multiplicity of decorations of honour and their various button-hole badges; distinctions, which, from the facility with which they are obtained, he does not consider as qualifying the wearer to fight a gentleman. “If these people were attended to,” he says, “one could no longer fight a proper duel: such numbers of them pullulate in every direction, that we see nothing but knights of St. Michael and of the Saint Esprit; to such an extent were these orders abused during our civil wars, to win over and retain followers being no longer the meed of valour or of merit.”

To tear off a decoration, or even to touch it, was considered an unpardonable insult; and we have seen in more modern times an example of the respect to which such attributes of distinction are entitled. In August 1833, Colonel Gallois, an officer in the service of Poland, felt himself offended by an article in the Figaro, a paper conducted by Nestor Roqueplan; and, having met him, tore off his riband of the Legion of Honour. The parties met in the wood of Meudon, when Roqueplan received three wounds, and Gallois one in the knee: the two seconds of Gallois at the same time had thrown off their coats, and challenged the seconds of Roqueplan, who very wisely declined any participation in the fight; when one of Gallois’s party insisted upon satisfaction from Mr. Leon Pillet, a friend of Roqueplan, with whom he was on intimate terms, and, to urge his suit, requested that he might be allowed to take the badge of the Legion off his coat, to overcome his apparent repugnance; adding, that he entertained too much friendship and esteem towards him to offend him in any other manner. There was no refusing so polite a request.

The colours of a lady, in a knot of ribands worn by her admirer, and called an emprise, were equally sacred; and, when a brave of those chivalric days was anxious for a combat, he exerted himself to find some daring desperado who would put his finger on the badge of love. In Ireland to this day, in many of its wild districts, a pugnacious ruffian will drag his jacket after him, and fight unto death any spalpeen who ventures to touch it.

Choice of arms was a matter of great importance in these meetings, indeed of a vital nature; since, if a weapon was broken in the hands of one of the parties, he was considered vanquished, and at the discretion of his conqueror—such an accident being looked upon as a decision of Providence: a miss-fire at the present day is considered a shot, although on a less religious principle. Pistols were introduced in the reign of Henry II; and, being considered as affording a more equal chance to both combatants, this arm has been generally selected in modern duels, more especially in England. On the Continent the small-sword and the sabre were more frequently resorted to; and we shall shortly see the regulations regarding their employment, which in France form a regular code.

Some of the ancient modes of fighting were most singular and whimsical. Brantôme relates a story of two Corsicans who had fixed short sharp-pointed daggers in the front of their helmets, being covered with a suit of mail called a “jacque” over their shirts, although the weather was remarkably cold; such an arrangement having been proposed by the offended, who had the right to select and name the mode of combat, and who was fearful of his antagonist’s renown for his power and dexterity in wrestling. Both were armed with swords, and they fought for some time with such equality of skill that neither was wounded; at length they rushed upon each other, and wrestling commenced. It was during this struggle that the daggers came into play, each butting in his antagonist’s face, and neck, and arms, until blood was streaming in every direction, and in such profusion that they were separated: one of them only lived a month; in consequence of which the survivor was well nigh dying of tristesse and ennui, as they had become friends, and expected that they both should have died.11

Notwithstanding this valorous disposition, it appears that the choice of arms and appointments was frequently made a subterfuge to gain time, or cause much trouble and expense; and Brantôme relates, that, in the fatal duel between Jarnac and Chasteneraye, the former proposed no less than thirty different weapons to be used both on horseback and on foot, and had also specified various horses, Spanish, Turkish, Barbs, with different kinds of saddles: in consequence of which our chronicler adds, that if his uncle had not been a man of some independence, and moreover assisted by his royal master, he could not have maintained the challenge; and he very truly observed, when receiving it, “This man wants to fight both my valour and my purse.”

This privilege of the offended to choose their arms and regulate the nature of the combat, however capriciously, afforded considerable advantages; since the art of fencing taught many secret tricks, the knowledge of which gave great reputation to professors. So secret, indeed, were these instructions, that not only was the pupil solemnly sworn never to reveal the mysterious practice, but instructions were given in private, after having examined every part of the room, the furniture, and the very walls, to ascertain that no third person could have been concealed to witness the deadly lesson. To this day in France such cuts and thrusts are called coups de maître, and by the lower classes coups de malins.

A curious case is recorded of a knight, who, having been taught invariably to strike the region of the heart, insisted upon fighting in a suit of armour, with an opening in each cuirass of the breadth of the hand over the heart: the result, of course, was immediately fatal to his antagonist.

The “cunning” of armourers was also frequently resorted to, to obtain unfair advantages. A skilful workman in Milan had carried his mode of tempering steel to such a point of perfection, that the solidity of the sword and dagger depended entirely on the manner in which they were handled: in the hands of the inexperienced the weapons flew into shivers; whereas in the grasp of a skilful combatant they were as trusty as the most approved Toledan blade.

Nor were these valiant knights very particular as to odds. It is related of two French gentlemen, La Villatte and the Baron de Salligny, who fought a duel with two Gascons of the name of Malecolom and Esparezat, that Malecolom having speedily killed his antagonist Salligny, and perceiving that his companion Esparezat was a long time despatching Villatte, went to his assistance. When Villatte, thus unfairly pressed by two antagonists, remonstrated against the treachery, Malecolom very coolly replied, “I have killed my adversary, and, if you kill yours, there may be a chance that you may also kill me; therefore here goes!”

More punctilious, however, were some of these heroes in points of honour. We read in Brantôme of two Piedmontese officers, intimate friends, who having gone out to fight, one of the parties received a wound that was supposed to be mortal; when his opponent, instead of despatching him, assisted him off the ground, to conduct him to a surgeon. “Ah!” exclaimed the wounded man, “do not be generous by halves!—let it not be said that I fell without inflicting a wound: so, pray wear your arm in a scarf, and say that I hit you ere I succumbed.” His friend generously acceded to the proposal; and, having smeared a bandage in his blood, he wrapped it round his arm, publishing abroad that he had been wounded ere his brave companion received his mortal thrust. The wound however not proving fatal, an everlasting friendship, cemented by gratitude, ever after prevailed between them.

Many instances of these singular rencontres and fatal caprices in deeds of arms will be recorded in the course of this history; all of which may be referred to the character of the times, and the existing government’s weakness or tyrannical influence.

In relating the progress of duelling in France during the fifteenth and the sixteenth centuries, I cannot better characterize the state of the country than by quoting a late intelligent writer, M. de Campigneulles:—

“I find between the fifteenth and the sixteenth centuries the same difference that is observable between the seventeenth and the eighteenth; neither of these periods being in my opinion in favour of any progress. Louis XI. will be found preferable to Charles IX; and Charles VIII. will be placed in a more distinguished rank than Henry II. Francis I. will not make us forget Louis XII; and the glorious exploits of the French under Charles VII. will console us for a long time for the miseries of the civil wars under Henry III. I do not think it necessary, to justify the second proposition, to draw a parallel between the reigns of Henry IV. and Louis XIV. on one side, with the regency and reign of Louis XV. on the other. What is not less remarkable is, that the first period of a century has frequently been more worthy of estimation than the second; showing that there is an action and a reaction in the progress of civilization, and that the torrent of ages seems to be subject to the same laws that regulate the waters of the deep.

“Under Charles VII. the aristocracy was too deeply engaged in their national contest with England to occupy themselves with personal feuds; the aristocracy, in the enormous sacrifices which this struggle required, was drained both of men and money. The people gained nothing—the royal authority alone reaped any advantage that might have resulted from this state of affairs; for from this reign we may date the establishment of standing armies and taxations—the latter being imposed illegally, and without the sanction of the states-general.

“The policy of Louis XI.’s government turned to a profitable account the state of poverty and depression to which the aristocracy had been reduced. The nobility of France was deteriorated by this cruel prince, who founded his despotic power upon executions; and the blood which had been spilled in the field of battle to defend the country, was now wantonly shed upon the scaffold. There was none left to irrigate a field of private battle.

“These combined circumstances had struck a fatal blow to duelling; and the prejudices which had justified the practice, and which at the same time had advocated the cause of aristocracy, became every day more weak, attesting the homogeneity of their character.

“France has always been considered as giving the ton to Europe; but between us and other countries the exchange has not always been to our advantage, and, for what we may have given to our neighbours of any value, we have received in return sad equivalents. It is to Germany that we were first indebted for judicial combats. It was in Italy that we sought the practice of duelling, which succeeded them; and while this moral contagion was widely spread during the expeditions of Charles VII, Louis XII, and Francis I, a sad physical contamination was transmitted to us through Spain. The practice of duelling had scarcely crossed the Alps, when it gradually disappeared amongst the Italians; and the stiletto became a substitute for the sword.

“It is to the reign of Charles VIII. that we must refer these Italian campaigns, so fatal to our arms and our manners. The ardour of our youth inspired this monarch with a desire of foreign expeditions. In 1494 he overran the kingdom of Naples, losing his conquests as rapidly as he had obtained them. Duelling was then in great vogue over Italy—a tradition of the Goths and Lombards, modified, or rather exaggerated, by the chivalric fancies of the Spaniards.

“A wish to enforce the rights of Valentine on the duchy of Milan induced Louis XII. to undertake fresh Italian expeditions, although he had strenuously opposed similar projects on the part of his predecessor during his latter days. It was during the reign of this monarch, from 1499 to 1515, that incessant duels thinned the ranks of his armies. They were sanctioned by the Duke de Nemours their leader, and the illustrious Bayard himself was obliged to yield to the torrent of fashion.

“The Italian wars continued to be waged under Francis I. He himself, as we have seen, sent a rodomontade challenge to the Emperor Charles; and although neither of the parties entertained a serious intention of putting their boasted threats into execution, yet he had shown an example which was greedily followed by the most distinguished personages of the court.”

It was during his reign that pistols were introduced, and became the fit auxiliaries of the dagger amongst the bandits that infested the realm; and thus does Abbé Villy describe the condition of the country—“Our intercourse with the Italians, amongst whom our armies had lived for more than fifty years, had altered our national character in many respects. Men became less delicate in their means of glutting revenge. Assassinations and premeditated murders became each day more frequent. Already it was not considered sufficient to await an enemy upon the road, or attack him in his dwelling. It was at the corner of a street or in an open square, and in the presence of their fellow-citizens, that public functionaries fell under an assassin’s blow. Relays of horses were ready to enable the criminal to escape, and the crime to remain unpunished.”

“Charles IX. was the last French monarch who allowed a duel, and was present when it took place. He was also the first to prohibit the practice; and his ordonnance of 1566 in this respect was admirable, wherein he commanded that all differences should be submitted to the decision of the constables and marshals of France, more especially in such cases where the lie had been given.

“Henry III. was the last who appeared in a tournament, with his brother Charles IX; and he also issued severe orders concerning murderers and assassins, who, however, from his want of energy, applied with more audacity and impunity than at any other period, converting the country into a cut-throat: and if this prince ended by discouraging duels, it was only when from his affections towards his unworthy favourites he felt their loss, and, without possessing sufficient energy to avenge them, their tragic end only gave rise to fresh scandal in the indecency of his grief. D’Audiguier, the duellist, called him the best prince in the world; and Brantôme says that he was so good, that he never could punish rigorously, he so loved his nobility.

“The fever of duelling was not mitigated during the long period of our religious wars. Civil wars differ widely from those that are carried on to defend national honour against a foreign enemy. When these break forth, personal feuds are appeased, and one interest predominates; our blood is reserved for our country, and duels will cease: but when in an impious conflict citizens are armed against each other, every evil passion is unbridled; no law, no check, can restrain them; everything becomes a weapon; men no longer fight, but kill; and what the sword may have spared is doomed to the scaffold. Thus did murders assume every possible form during the convulsions of the sixteenth century; every instrument of destruction was brought to bear; the dagger rivalled the sword; and, as we already were indebted to Italy for duelling, an Italian Queen, one of the Medici, brought in another gift—assassination.”