Читать книгу The History of Duelling (Vol.1&2) - J. G. Millingen - Страница 9

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Mistaken views of religion no longer presided over bloodshed, and priests found that they gradually lost the power of controlling the unruly by their simple commands; it therefore became necessary that their influence over those who could support their power by arms should be of a more permanent and efficacious nature. Youth, upon whose future courage and energies they could depend, were now enrolled in an instituted body; and the assumption of arms, so soon as they were able to wield them, became a solemn religious rite: until they could don their armour, they were clad in white, like clerical neophytes; and, as Scott truly observes, “the investiture of chivalry was brought to resemble, as near as possible, the administration of the sacraments of the church.”

Still this combination of religious and military zeal was not considered sufficient to lead a man to risk his life blindly, and the art and the all-powerful aid of woman were invoked.

Gallantry now presided over deeds of arms; which, to use the words of Montesquieu, was not love, but its light, delicate, and perpetual errors.

An ingenious writer, C. Moore, has described the origin of chivalric laws and customs in the following passage:—“War, and the single combat, were still the ruling passions of the soul; and whatever improvement had militated against these favourite and ferocious ideas would have been treated with the utmost contempt and indignation. Some, however, whose minds were more enlightened, endeavoured to turn this torrent of courage and military violence upon itself, and to the correction of its own abuses. They formed themselves into martial societies for the relief of injured innocence and distressed virtue; for the redress of all oppressions and grievances; for the protection of the weak and defenceless, particularly of the fair sex; for the correction of abuses, and the general promotion of the public utility and safety. But, in compliance with the strong prejudices of the times, all was still to be determined by the sword, and by feats of personal valour. Such was the introduction of chivalry and knight-errantry.”

For the honour of mankind, desirable indeed would it have been if chivalry had been carried on upon such philanthropic grounds, however barbarous might have been the means resorted to in the furtherance of its ends: it is more probable that it was the result of growing civilization, with its concomitant pride, pomp, and circumstance. When love, being associated with religion, shed a halo over the knight’s proud helm, the spirit of chivalry withdrew its advocates from the trammels of judicial courts; and, although the hostile meetings of contending knights, might not have been considered an ordeal to obtain the judgment of God, the vanity arising from the renown of personal prowess and superiority in war and in love rendered its champions regardless of those fine and delicate feelings to which their institution has been attributed. It is true that, the courtesy and rising polish of society being added to religious zeal and blind superstition, this combination tended to soften down the rude relics of former ferocity, and to combine courage with humanity, introducing as far as was practicable the courtesies of peace into scenes of strife; and such we may well imagine may have been the results of such an institution when woman became associated with all its bearings. Education became more gentle, and, ere the accolade of knighthood was conferred, the candidate to the honour had passed through the gradation of page and squire; first the follower of woman, a blind adorer and slave, then the attendant on his leader in the chase or the battle-field.

As civilization progressed, the rude customs of barbarous nations must have gradually sunk into disrepute; and war, which had once been a necessity in defence of person and property, now became only an honourable profession.

While we admit, with Scott, that the tenets of chivalry were exalted and enthusiastic, we cannot but consider that many acts of exaltation and enthusiasm, among the most illustrious, were little short of mental aberration, qualifying the heroic champion for the lunatic asylum, rather than the courts of sovereigns; and I think that we may consider many of our modern honourable institutions, which are traced to chivalry, more as the effect of gradual intellectual improvement than of the frolics of knight-errantry, however honourable they may have appeared in theory. No one can pretend to deny that Don Quixote’s ideas of honour were as correct as they were punctilious.

It is unfortunate that romance has so distorted human actions as to shed lustre upon deeds which ought to have been veiled in everlasting obscurity for the honour of mankind. It is owing to these fatal illusions, that, to the present hour, the chimerical word Honour leads the enthusiast or the slave of society’s prejudiced views to the commission of criminal acts, and adapts its supposed laws and dictates to the Procrustean standard of the “world’s” opinion.

Previous to the institution of chivalry, fighting became necessary for individual protection; but knighthood rendered it a fashionable accomplishment, and, as real injuries were not likely to occur every day, artificial grievances were created, and tilts and tournaments became the constant sports of the day. John, Duke of Bourbon, being overcome, no doubt, with ennui, offered to go over to England with sixteen knights, to avoid idleness, and further, to merit the good graces of his mistress; and it is clear that this noble institution, as it is called, greatly increased duelling instead of checking its barbarity, while, by rendering it a polite accomplishment, it has transmitted down to posterity a detestable heir-loom of barbarous times.

Not only were knights obliged to fight their own battles, but they were bound to espouse the disputes of others, and volunteer fighting whenever a “good quarrel” could be established.

It is to chivalry, introduced in the train of the Norman conquerors, that England owed its first degradation. Chivalry deluged Italy in blood, and rendered Spain a by-word of ferocity and madness. The desperate pranks of the lunatic Crusaders were the deeds of monomaniacs let loose by popery: Scott has truly said, that “the genius alike of the age and of the order tended to render the zeal of the professors of chivalry fierce, burning, and intolerant.” “If an infidel,” says a great authority, “impugn the doctrine of the Christian faith before a churchman, he should reply by argument; but a knight should render no other reason to the infidel than six inches of his falchion thrust into his accursed bowels.” The massacre of the Albigenses was one of the proud results of this noble institution!

Debased by superstition and priestcraft, knighthood became instrumental to every ambition, clerical or military: the hand of Heaven was seen guiding every gleaming falchion; the saints were seen hovering over the battle-field; and Froissart tells us that a black cur, which was always barking when the infidels approached the Christian camp, was called by the whole army the dog of Our Lady. If such were the public evils that arose from chivalric institutions, how much more fearful was their influence in society when we find Francis I, who certainly respected the faith of engagements as conveniently as expediency could dictate, laid down as a principle of honour, which prevails to this very day, That the lie was never to be put up with without satisfaction, but by a base-born fellow! For fear of any possible mistake, lies were divided into thirty-two categories, with their corresponding degree of satisfaction. In a succeeding chapter I shall endeavour to show that most edicts promulgated to check the practice of duelling rather increased it, and its gradual approach to desuetude can only be attributed to the influence of reason: until this influence obtains, all laws will be rendered nugatory by the established code of honour.

Nothing can be more absurd than the regret for the “glorious days of Chivalry!” It is very true, that nothing could be more beautiful and praiseworthy than the theory on which it was grounded; but a legislature might just as wisely sit down and embody an Utopian code of laws as to expect that a soldier will only draw his sword in the defence of innocence—it is too absurd a dream to be entertained even in romance.

The exact origin of chivalry is a matter of doubt. By some historians it is attributed to Henry I, King of Germany, in 936, called the “bird-catcher,” from his partiality to field pursuits. Others have traced it to Geoffrey de Preuilly, who died in 1066; but it appears that he was only celebrated from his having collected and published the laws of tournaments. History records a chivalric meeting that took place as early as 858, near Strasburgh, between Charles the Bald, and his brother, Louis of Germany. In France it was in general practice in 1136; and in Spain and England in 1140.

The rules and regulations in the management of these tournaments were curious, and showed that the profession of arms was supposed to be the proof of virtue as well as of courage. By these institutes it was ordered—

I. Whosoever has done or said anything against the holy Christian faith shall be excluded; and if any such shall presume to intrude himself, on the account of his family and ancient nobility, he shall be beaten and driven back.—This first article was proposed by the Emperor Henry I. himself.

II. If any, however nobly descended, have done or said anything against the Roman empire, or the sacred majesty of the Emperor, he shall not be admitted, but publicly punished before the assembly.—This article was proposed by Conrad, Prince of Palestine.

III. If any have betrayed or deserted his lord and master, or have been the occasion of any mutiny, disorder, or shameful flight in an army; or have oppressed and unjustly killed any of his subjects and vassals, or other innocent person, he shall be publicly punished.—Duke of Franconia.

IV. Whosoever has committed violence upon virgins or oppressed widows, or has violated and defamed any woman by word or deed, when he appears at the public tournament, shall be disgraced and punished.—Duke of Suevia.

V. Whosoever has been guilty of perjury, of forging hand or seal, or lies under any other infamy, shall be held unworthy of the honour of a tournament; and, if he enter, he shall not be suffered to go away without some punishment.—Duke of Bavaria.

VI. Whosoever has secretly or openly made away with his wife, or has advised or assisted the killing of his superior, whose vassal he was, let him be debarred, and let the law of tournament be executed upon him.

VII. Whoever have been guilty of sacrilege, by robbing churches or detaining what belongs to them, or have wronged widows and children to whom they were left guardians, shall not be admitted, but punished.

VIII. Whosoever keeps up an unreasonable feud with another, and will not refer the difference to law or to a fair battle, but invades his adversary’s land, burning and spoiling it, and carrying off his goods, especially if he has destroyed corn, which has caused a dearth or a famine—if he appear at the tournament, let him be put to death.

IX. Whosoever has been the author of any new gabel or imposition in any province, city, or other dominion, without the consent of the Emperor, by which means subjects are oppressed, and trade and commerce with strangers are hindered and discouraged, let him be punished.

X. Whosoever is guilty of adultery, let him be punished.

XI. Whosoever doth not live suitably upon his lawful rents and income, but debaseth his dignity by buying and selling, and using mean and sordid arts to the damage of his neighbours and oppression of his tenants, let him be beaten.

XII. Whosoever cannot prove his nobility for four generations at least by both father and mother, shall not have the honour of being admitted into the tournament.—The two last articles were proposed by Philip, the secretary of the Emperor.

These ordinances are a strong illustration of the habits and practices of the nobles at that period, and present a vivid picture of the times, when few indeed must have been the champions who could have qualified for the lists.

Although, on the commencement of these exercises, blunt weapons were used, fatal accidents were nevertheless very frequent; and it is said of a Turkish ambassador, who was present at a tournament at the court of Charles VII, that, on beholding several of the combatants killed and wounded, he exclaimed, “If they are in earnest, this is not enough; but, if it is only in jest, we have had too much of it.”

It was the frequency of these playful accidents that induced the clergy to forbid tournaments; as appears in the canons of the council of Rheims in 1148, by which Christian sepulture is refused to those who fall on such occasions.

Howbeit, in 1274, our Edward I, on his passage by Chalons, being challenged by the Count de Chalons, entered into a joust with the French knights, which was so successful on the part of the English, that their opponents, infuriated by their inferiority, made a serious attack upon his retinue; and so much blood was idly shed on the occasion, that the tournament was ever after called “the petty battle of Chalons.”

In 1209 we find Philip Augustus obliging his sons, Louis and Philip, to make a vow against entering into any such meetings. In 1385 we find Francis I. in a tournament between Ardres and Guines; and Henry II. in 1559—a fatal encounter in which he died from a wound in the eye-ball received from Montgomery, captain of his guards. This accident took place on the occasion of the marriage of the King’s eldest daughter to Philip, King of Spain; in honour of which there were balls, masquerades, and tilting. His majesty, fancying to enter the lists, had a lance sent to Montgomery to encounter him: the captain at first very wisely declined the honour; but, upon the King’s repeated requests, was reluctantly obliged to comply with his orders. The tilt-yard was in the Rue St. Antoine, where the captain purposely and politely broke his lance against his royal master’s breast-plate: unfortunately one of the splinters flew into his eye, and penetrated the ball; the King lingered in great agony for a month and died, after having forbidden all similar exercises.10

To form an idea of the ferocity that marked these deadly meetings, and the absurdity of what were called points of honour, we have only to recount the particulars of a combat that took place between two Spanish captains at Ferrara. These two heroes had demanded a “field” of the Viceroy, Monsieur de Nemours. The Duchess of Ferrara was, of course, most anxious to be present at the contest; she being, according to Brantôme, the most beautiful and accomplished lady in Christendom, both as regarded corporeal and mental qualities, speaking moreover force belles langues: therefore was it, (and very naturally,) that M. de Nemours was deeply enamoured of her, and wore her colours, (rather sombre, to be sure,) black and grey. The combatants being engaged, one of the parties received a desperate wound, which occasioned such a loss of blood that he sunk on the ground; when his antagonist, according to the noble institutions of chivalry, rushed on him with the point of his sword to his throat. The which beholding, the Duchess, who was as kind as she was courteous, and as beauteous as she was virtuous, with clasped hands implored M. de Nemours to separate the combatants; to which he replied, rather uncourteously for a knight, “You cannot doubt, madam, that there is nothing in the world that I would not do to convince you of my thorough devotion to your will; but in this instance I can do nothing, nor offend against the laws of battle, nor can I honestly and against reason deprive the conqueror of a prize which he has obtained at the hazard of his life.”

Howbeit, the second of the fallen man stepped forward, and addressing the conqueror, whose name was Azevedo, declared that, knowing well the character of his friend, St. Croix, who would rather die a thousand deaths than admit that he was vanquished, surrendered himself for him, and avowed himself conquered. Azevedo was perfectly satisfied with this admission, and left the field in great pomp and glory, with a flourish of trumpets; while St. Croix’s wounds were dressed, and he was borne off the ground with his arms, which Azevedo had forgot to carry away as trophies of the battle: but, upon his being reminded of the circumstance, he forthwith sent a messenger to demand them. This request, however, being refused, the case was referred to the decision of M. de Nemours, who immediately ordered that the arms of St. Croix should be carried to the conqueror; or that, if he declined to send them, the dressings of his wounds should be taken off, and he should be again carried to the field, and laid in the situation in in which he was placed when his second interfered for his life: however, the second was wise enough to comply with the request. Brantôme observes, that much might be argued on this matter to decide how far Azevedo ought to have been satisfied with the second’s submission instead of the principal’s; as the combat was to have been mortal, the swords and daggers having been placed in the hands of the combatants by the Prior of Messina.

A beau combat is recorded of Monsieur de Bayard and another Spaniard, Don Alonzo de Soto Mayor, who, having been taken prisoner by the former, insulted him so grossly that he offered him the satisfaction of a meeting on foot or on horseback. The day being appointed, Bayard made his appearance, mounted upon a spirited charger and clad in white, a symbol of humility. The choice of arms having fallen upon the Spaniard, he preferred a combat on foot, on the plea that he was not so good a horseman as his adversary, but in reality from his having heard that the French knight was labouring under an intermittent fever, which he had experienced for upwards of two years. Bayard, on account of his indisposition, was strongly urged by his second, Monsieur de la Palisse, and his friends, to insist upon a mounted combat. To this he objected, as he did not wish that his opponent should accuse him of having thrown any difficulties in the way of a fair meeting. The ground was taken, and marked with several loose stones. Bayard, having received his arms, prostrated himself on the ground to put up a fervent prayer, while every one around him joined in the orison upon their knees; then, rising, he made the sign of the cross, and attacked his adversary as cheerfully as if he was stepping out in a ball-room to commence a dance. The Spaniard advanced, and calmly asked him, “Señor Bayardo, que me quereys?” To which he replied, “To defend my honour;” and forthwith attacked him. The struggle was fiercely kept up, and great skill displayed on both sides; until Bayard, by a feint, struck him such a blow in the throat, that, despite his gorget, the weapon penetrated four fingers deep. The wounded Spaniard grasped his adversary, and, struggling with him, they both rolled on the ground; when Bayard, drawing his dagger and thrusting its point in the nostrils of the Spaniard, exclaimed, “Señor Alonzo, surrender—or you are a dead man!” a speech which appeared quite useless, as Don Diego de Guignonnes, his second, exclaimed, “Señor Bayardo, es muerto; vincido haveys!” Bayard, says the chronicler, would have given a hundred thousand crowns to have spared his life; but, as matters turned out, he fell upon his knees, kissed the ground three times, and then dragged his dead enemy out of the camp, saying to the deceased’s second, “Señor Don Diego, have I done enough?” to which the other piteously replied, “Too much, Señor, for the honour of Spain!” when Bayard very generously made him a present of the corpse, although he had a right to do whatever he thought proper with it; an act highly praised by Brantôme, who says it is difficult to say which act did him most honour—the not having ignominiously dragged the body like the carcase of a dog by a leg or an arm out of the field, or having condescended to fight while labouring under an ague; as an ague in those days (sturdy dogs!) was not considered a sufficient reason to decline a combat.

As fighting became a matter of fashion, and therefore of necessity, it was impossible to be too punctilious in taking offence. Any subject, however trivial, was considered sufficient to warrant a combat, and required blood to wipe off a supposed stain upon a factitious honour; and, when blood could not be obtained for this vital purpose by fair means, assassination was not deemed beneath the dignity of the offended, or incompatible with honour’s laws. Thus we find a Franche-Comté nobleman running another through the body in the very porch of a church, while he was presenting him some holy water; and two other high-born worthies fighting it out before the altar, to decide who had the best right to a seat of precedence, or the first use of the censer.

Tilts and tournaments were simply simulacra of actual combats, training youth to deeds of arms under the flattering auspices of the fair sex, that they might the more diligently and expertly commit murder whenever it suited ambition, fanaticism, or love.

What the ladies expected from their champions cannot be better expressed than in the injunction of the Dame des Belles Cousines to little Jean de Saintré, a subject which Scott has admirably translated in the following quaint and appropriate language:—

“The Dame des Belles Cousines, having cast her eyes upon the little Jean de Saintré, then a page of honour at court, demanded of him the name of his mistress and his love, on whom his affections were fixed. The poor boy, thus pressed, replied that the first object of his love was the lady his mother, and the next his sister Jacqueline. ‘Jouvencel,’ replied the inquisitive dame, who had her own reasons for not being contented with this simple answer, ‘we do not talk of the affection due to your mother and sister; I desire to know whom you love par amours.’

“ ‘In faith, madam,’ said the poor page, to whom the mysteries of chivalry, as well as of love, were yet unknown, ‘I love no one par amours.’

“ ‘Ah, false gentleman, and traitor to the laws of chivalry!’ returned the lady; ‘dare you say that you love no lady? Well may we perceive your falsehood and craven spirit by such an avowal. Whence were derived the great valour and the high achievements of Lancelot, of Gawain, of Tristram, of Giron the Courteous, and of other heroes of the round table?—whence those of Panthus, and of so many other valiant knights and squires of this realm, whose names I could enumerate had I time?—whence the exaltation of many whom I myself have known to rise to high dignity and renown?—except from their animating desire to maintain themselves in the grace and favours of their ladies, without which mainspring to exertion and valour they must have remained unknown and insignificant. And do you, coward page, now dare to aver that you have no lady, and desire to have none? Hence, false heart that thou art!’

“To avoid these bitter reproaches, the simple page named as his lady and love par amours Matheline De Coucy, a child of ten years old. The answer of the Dame des Belles Cousines, after she had indulged in the mirth which his answers prompted, instructed him how to place his affections more advantageously.

“ ‘Matheline,’ said the lady, ‘is indeed a pretty girl, and of high rank, and better lineage than appertains to you. But what good, what profit, what honour, what advantage, what comfort, what aid, what counsel for advancing you in the ranks of chivalry, can you derive from such a choice? Sir, you ought to choose a lady of high and noble blood, who has the talent and means to counsel and aid you at your need; and her you ought to serve so truly, and love so loyally, that she must be compelled to acknowledge the true and honourable affection which you bear to her. For, believe me, there is no lady, however cruel and haughty, but through length of faithful service will be brought to acknowledge and reward loyal affection with some portion of pity, compassion, or mercy. In this manner you will attain the praise of a worthy knight; and, till you follow such a course, I would not give an apple for you or your achievements.’ ”

The lady then proceeds to lecture the acolyte of chivalry at considerable length on the seven mortal sins, and the way in which the true amorous knight may eschew commission of them. Still, however, the saving grace inculcated in her sermon is fidelity and secrecy in the service of the mistress whom he should love par amours. She proves, by the aid of quotations from the Scriptures, the fathers of the church, and the ancient philosophers, that the true and faithful lover can never fall into the crimes of pride, anger, envy, sloth, or gluttony. From each of these his true faith is held to warrant and defend him. Nay, so pure was the nature of the flame which she recommended, that she maintained it to be inconsistent even with the seventh sin of chambering and wantonness, to which it might seem too nearly allied. The least dishonest thought or action was, according to her doctrine, sufficient to forfeit the chivalrous lover the favours of his lady. It seems, however, that the greatest part of her charge concerning incontinence is levelled against such as haunted the receptacles of open vice; and that she reserved an exception (of which in the course of the history she made a most liberal use) in favour of the intercourse which, in all law, honour, and secrecy, might take place when the favoured and faithful knight had obtained, by long service, the boon of mercy from the lady whom he loved.

The last encouragement which the Dame des Belles Cousines held out to Saintré in order to excite his ambition, and induce him to fix his passion upon a lady of elevated birth, rank, and sentiment, is also worthy of being quoted; since it shows that it was the prerogative of chivalry to abrogate the distinctions of rank, and elevate the hopes of the knight, whose sole patrimony was his arms and his valour, to the high-born and princely dame before whom he carved as a sewer.

“ ‘How is it possible for me,’ replied poor little Saintré, after having heard out the unmercifully long lecture of the Dame des Belles Cousines, ‘to find a lady, such as you describe, who will accept of my service, and requite the affection of such a one as I am?’

“ ‘And why should you not find her?’ answered the lady preceptress. ‘Are you not gently born? Are you not a fair and proper youth? Have you not eyes to look on her—ears to hear her—a tongue to plead your cause to her—hands to serve her—feet to move at her bidding—body and heart to accomplish loyally her commands?—and, having all these, can you doubt to adventure yourself in the service of any lady whatsoever?’ ”

In these extracts is painted the very spirit of chivalry, and the manners of an age which so many modern ladies seem to regret most deeply.

As I have already stated, warlike youth had to a certain degree emancipated themselves from the power of the priesthood, although they were always prepared and willing to rush into battle at their commands; but to the honour of the clergy it must be confessed, that although many individuals of that body might have enjoyed fighting as much as any testy layman, yet they did exert themselves to temper and modify as much as lay in their power the ferocity of the times. Whether in these efforts they were chiefly influenced by motives of humanity, or by opposition to the rivalry of secular power, it is no easy matter to decide.

The secular power of the nobles was very great, and to a certain degree independent of that of the sovereign. President Henault informs us, that during the first, and a considerable period of the second race, dukes and counts, in their quality of provincial governors, administered all regal functions within their jurisdiction, bestowed all military preferments, and judged by sovereign judgment all appeals of the centenaries, or judges nominated by the monarch—still, in the name of the King. As at that period there could exist no other justice but a royal one, these same dukes and counts, having from the weakness of the government erected their offices into hereditary rights and patrimonies, continued to preserve their authority; and all traces of regal power disappeared in the provinces, with the exception of the government of Hugues Capet as duke and count, and, when he ascended the throne, his droit seigneural was added to his royal authority.

Before such arbitrary tribunals, when the judges were themselves unruly soldiers, utterly ignorant of any kind of jurisprudence, and knowing no other method of deciding a difference than by an appeal to force, the most expeditious method of deciding a quarrel was to make the litigants fight it out.

The only check upon the power of feudality was the influence of the clergy, then divided into secular and regular. The secular clerks officiated in the several sees and parishes, while the regular lived under monastic institutions and discipline.

Ecclesia abhorret sanguine was an old maxim of the church; and, when they condemned thousands to the torture or to death, they considered that they conformed themselves to the letter of this humane precept while handing their victims over to the secular arm to put their sentence into execution. Moreover, as the jurisprudence of the sword interfered with that of the altar, many were the prelates who powerfully declaimed against duelling and its excesses. Such were Gregory of Tours, Avitus, and Agobard. Various councils fulminated their anathemas on the barbarous practice; that of Valence in 855, and of Limoges in 994, and Trent so late as 1563: while several pontiffs, amongst whom we find Nicholas I, Alexander III, Celestin III, and Julius II, excommunicated all sovereigns who permitted duels to take place within their realms; and we see Charles IX. protesting against this papal interference, when, in his edict of 1564, he reserved to himself the power of authorizing duels when he thought it meet.

It is to this interference of the clergy that Europe was indebted for that pacific act called the Truce of God, to which I have already referred. This ordonnance, called Treuga Dei, was promulgated by a council at Toulujes in Roussillon, in the year 1041, when it gradually spread over Europe. In this celebrated act it was specified that upon all festivals, and from Wednesday evening until Monday morning in each week, no disputes should lead to any issue. This regulation was most wise, as it gave three entire days in each week to offended persons to reflect calmly on the nature of their supposed injury, or the benefits that might result from vindictive proceedings.

It appears, however, that the nobles paid but little attention to the Treuga Dei, or any other truce that tended to check their unruly passions. A greater diversion from their private feuds soon drew their attention in another direction; preparing the great moral revolution that marked the eleventh and the twelfth centuries: I of course allude to the Crusades, when, in the words of Anna Comnena, the whole of Europe seemed to have been torn up from its foundations, and ready to precipitate itself upon Asia. Six millions of enthusiasts, according to contemporary writers, rushed forward in this holy war; and in 1096, under the command of Godefroy de Bouillon, an army of about a hundred thousand, chiefly composed of men sufficiently distinguished in their several countries by birth and education to cut each other’s throats with propriety, were patriotic enough to rid their country of their presence, and were soon after followed to Palestine by another draft of pugnacious nobility and gentry from various parts of Europe.

Nor can we be surprised at this ardour, when we consider all the advantages held out to the crusaders both in this world and in the next. They were exempted from all prosecution for debt, and from the payment of all interest thereon. They were freed from taxation; they were taken under the immediate protection of St. Peter; and all who vexed, perplexed, or impeded them in word, deed, or thought, were irrevocably damned. They obtained a plenary remission of all sins past and present, with immunity for future ones; and the gates of heaven were thrown open to them without any other claims on salvation than their having engaged in this expedition.

The crusades moreover produced a great revolution in property; many of these adventurers selling their lands and inheritances at the lowest prices to equip themselves, while many of the nobles, perishing in the expedition, left their fiefs without heirs to increase the revenue and power of the crown.

Thus was this glorious enterprise a fatal blow to feudality; and, when a few of these adventurers returned to their homes, they were so reduced by misery and corrected by misfortunes, that their unfortunate vassals entertained some dawning hopes of better days. These wanderers had travelled over more civilized parts, and brought back some faint notions of justice, humanity, and improvement.

Another circumstance in the twelfth century not a little added to the progress of the human mind in search of amelioration. In 1137, when the imperial troops were plundering and sacking the town of Amalfi, a band of ruffians had found in some ruins an old book, the illuminated pictures of which attracted their notice. The Emperor claimed this curiosity as his prize, having discovered that it was no less than a copy of the Pandects of Justinian; the which he presented as a valuable trophy to the city of Pisa, whence its contents were called “Pandectæ Pisanæ,” till, being borne away in turn by the Florentines, it was afterwards named “Pandectæ Florentinæ.”

This accidental discovery produced a new era in Europe: it showed the barbarians who wielded the brute power of force, that there did exist other arguments than the sword’s point or the spear-head; and murder, which had usurped the seat of justice for upwards of six centuries, was obliged to yield to the influence of reason and interest. Schools of civil law were now opened, that superseded the exercises of the lists; and the study of Roman law succeeded the Lombardian code, despite the endeavour of the clergy to protect their canonical institutions by fulminating anathemas issued from the Vatican. The clergy of England, who, like their predecessors the Druids, had engrossed every branch of learning, lost no time in obtaining a proficiency in all the ancient oral maxims and customs, called common law, which had been handed down from former ages. Hence William of Malmsbury, soon after the Conquest asserted, Nullus clericus nisi causidicus. The judges were created out of the sacred order, and all the inferior offices filled up by the lower clergy, their successors to this day being called Clerks.

Thus we see two events, the crusades and the introduction of civil law, checking the disastrous excesses of duelling and arbitrating all differences by the sword. The future was pregnant with two events of still greater importance towards humanizing Society—the fall of the Eastern empire, and the discovery of the art of printing: by the one, civilization was thrown back on the West; and by the other gift of Providence man began to learn to think for himself.

We thus perceive the progress of duelling, and its less frequent occurrence, depending in a great measure upon the state of society and the nature of government: by following this progress chronologically in the history of various countries, we shall attain much information, both as regards the prevalence of this barbarous custom, and the success of different governments in their endeavours to suppress, or, at least, restrain its excesses. When, after reading the details of many of these duels, (some of them of perhaps a tedious nature, but all tending to illustrate the manners of the age,) we glance on the civil and religious condition of the people amongst whom they took place, the deductions from these observations may be found to be of more importance than may at first sight appear.