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Ancient chronicles have transmitted to us several curious duels that have taken place, for the purpose of deciding the justice of a cause by recourse to arms, and maintaining by the sword whatever the lips had asserted.

The combat that took place in 1371 between Macaire and the dog of Montargis has been too frequently related and dramatized to need a repetition. Charles V. was present at the meeting, which took place in the Isle Notre Dame, in Paris; and Macaire, who was conquered by the faithful companion of Aubry de Montdidier, was duly hanged. Montfaucon, in his erudite work, has given an engraving of this event, taken from a painting preserved in the castle of Montargis.

In 590, Gontran, King of Burgundy, was hunting in the royal forest of the Vosges, when he found the remains of a stag which had been killed by some poacher. The game-keeper accused Cherndon the king’s chamberlain, who, being confronted with his accuser, stoutly denied the charge. Gontran immediately ordered a combat. A nephew of the chamberlain was his champion; and in the conflict the game-keeper received a wound from his lance, which pierced his foot: having fallen from the severity of the injury, his antagonist rushed upon him to despatch him, when the prostrate man drew out a knife and ripped up his antagonist’s belly. The two combatants remained on the field, and Cherndon endeavoured to seek refuge in the church of St. Marcel; but Gontran ordered him to be seized and stoned to death.

A curious trial by battle took place in 626. Queen Gundeberge, the consort of Rharvald King of Lombardy, as much admired for her beauty and talents as her unimpeachable virtue, had thought it expedient to drive from her court a certain gossiping slanderous fellow of the name of Adalulf, who, it appears, had presumed to make some base proposal to her majesty. Adalulf forthwith, in a fit of revenge, hastened to the King, and informed him that the sharer of his bed had entered into a plot to poison him, and to marry the Duke Tason her paramour. The indignant Rharvald, without further inquiry, banishes the accused from his presence, and immures her in a castle, although she was nearly related to the Kings of the Francs. An emissary of Clotaire, however, indignant at the usage the Queen had received, urged the monarch to order a judicial contest; and Adalulf was therefore commanded to prepare himself to meet a cousin of the unfortunate Queen, of the name of Pithon, who having cut Adalulf’s throat, the innocence of Gundeberge was made manifest, to the entire satisfaction not only of her royal husband, but of all the gossips of the court of Burgundy. It was in consequence of this favourable and satisfactory result, that Grunvalt, in 668, made some alteration in the laws, by which it was enacted that ladies placed in a similar situation should enjoy the faculty of selecting their own champions.

Brantôme relates a case somewhat similar. Ingelgerius, Count of Gastonois, having been found dead one morning by the side of his wife, a relation of his, named Gontran, not only accused her of murder, but of adultery, offering to substantiate the accusation in person. No one coming forward to defend the afflicted lady, the young Count of Anjou, Ingelgerius, her godson, to whom she had very kindly given her husband’s name, presented himself. The youth, who was only in his sixteenth year, was as anxious to defend his godmother as Cherubino could have been to defend the Countess Almaviva; and having very properly and devoutly attended mass, recommended himself to the Divine protection, distributed alms, and secured himself by carrying with him the symbol of the cross, he hastened to the lists, where he found his antagonist prepared to receive him. The countess having duly sworn both parties, the combatants rushed upon each other. The onset of Gontran was so fierce that his lance bent in the breast-plate of the youthful hero, who forthwith, no ways discouraged by the shock, ran his own through his antagonist’s body: the conqueror nimbly jumped off his horse, and most dexterously severed the slanderer’s head from his base body, and laid it at the feet of his sovereign. It is needless to add, that, the countess’s innocence being thus made manifest, she fondly embraced her liberator, who, on the following day, was promoted to high titles and estates.

The rules and regulations were not only frequently drawn out by the clergy, but ecclesiastics themselves were not always exempted from liability to a trial by battle. Thus we see in the charter of the abbey of St. Maur des Fossés, granted by Louis le Gros, that they possessed bellandi et certificandi licentiam.

It is recorded, in the annals of St. Bertin, that the superior of his abbey in the village of Caumont near Hesdin had to defend certain rights in the field: the abbot of St. Bertin did not make his appearance; but two snow-white doves appeared coming from the Saint himself, and were seen hovering and fluttering over the field. The champion felt so emboldened by this miracle, that he rushed upon his antagonist, and substantiated the claim of the abbey by giving an unmerciful cudgelling to his opponent. In like manner, Geoffroi du Marne, bishop of Angers, ordered certain of his monks to determine their right to tithes by a similar process.

The trials or ordeals by fire and water were not always conclusive; for, in 1103, we find that one Luitprant, a Milanese priest, having accused his archbishop of simony, offered to make good his charge by walking through a fire; a feat which he performed to the amazement of all. However, as the accused was a prelate of distinction, the Pope absolved him, and very properly banished his impertinent accuser, who indeed, if strict justice had been done, ought to have been burnt alive as a wizard.

Our William of Normandy would not allow clerks to fight without due permission from their diocesan: “Si clericus duellum sine episcopi licentiâ susceperit,” &c.

We have abundant authority to show that priests were very frequently expert fencing-masters, and as chaplains of the army were especially celebrated for their skill.

A singular trial by battle took place at Toledo, in 1085, to decide whether the Roman or the Muzarabic ritual was to be observed in the celebration of mass. Two champions were selected. Don Ruiz de Mastanza, the Muzarabic knight, unhorsed his adversary and killed him. But the Queen, who had a particular predilection for the trial by fire, insisted that it should be resorted to: now, as it was contrary to the laws of chivalry that the conquering knight should be sent to the stake, a copy of each liturgy was thrown into the fire; when, as it appears that both of them were consumed, the King decided that in certain churches and chapels prayers should be put up according to the Muzarabic ritual, and in others in conformity with the Roman.—The Muzarabic chapel, a most curious monument, may to this day be seen in the cathedral of Toledo.

Not only did the clergy order that these judicial battles should take place, but many instances are on record where they were instituted by several French parliaments. Under Philip de Valois, the parliament decreed that two knights, Dubon and Vernon, should endeavour to cut each other’s throats; the latter having asserted that the former had bewitched his sovereign. The same learned body ordered a man of the name of Carrouge to fight another man of the name of Legris, to prove to the satisfaction of the public that he had committed an act of violence towards Carrouge’s wife. Carrouge must have been right, for Legris was killed; though, according to President Henault, his innocence was afterwards fully substantiated by his accuser’s confession upon his death-bed. In another instance, a knight, by name Jean Picart, who was accused of an incestuous intercourse with his daughter, was directed to fight her husband.

The frequency of these duels induced several monarchs to issue various edicts. In 1041 was issued one called the Saviour’s truce, in which duels were prohibited from Wednesdays to Mondays, these days having been consecrated by our Saviour’s passion. In 1167, the King prohibited all duels upon claims that did not exceed two-pence halfpenny. In 1256, causes of adultery were to be brought to this issue; while, in 1324, it was enjoined in cases of rape and poisoning. In 1145, the provost of Bourges was instructed to call out all persons who did not obey his orders.

In the reign of Henry II. the celebrated judicial duel (for such it might be considered) between Jarnac and De La Chasteneraye took place under very peculiar circumstances, carefully extracted from ancient chronicles by Cockburn, who gives us the following interesting account, most descriptive of the brutal manners of those chivalrous days.—“The persons were the Lords of Chasteneraye and of Jarnac, who were both neighbours and kinsmen. The first had said to Francis I. that the other was maintained so plentifully by his mother-in-law, with whom he had unlawful conversation. The King told this to Jarnac, for whom he had a great affection. Upon which Jarnac said to the King, that Chasteneraye had lied to him; but he not only maintaining what he had said, but adding that Jarnac had divers times owned it to himself, Jarnac did earnestly supplicate the King that the truth might be tried by combat; which Francis I. first granted, but afterwards recalled.

“Upon his death, an earnest supplication was made to his successor, Henry II. who, with the advice of his council, not only allowed, but appointed it at St. Germain-en-Laye, on the 10th July 1547, when the King, the whole court, the constable, admiral, and marshals of France being present, the two parties were brought before the King, attended by their several friends and trumpets, when each took the usual oaths. After this they were led to their several pavilions, where they were dressed for the combat, each having a friend and a confidant in the other’s pavilion while this was doing. It is said that Jarnac was but newly recovered of a sickness, and that he whispered to a friend, if he did not trust to the goodness of his cause, he should fear the acting of the part of a poltroon. When all the usual preamble of the ceremonies was over, they were call out by the King’s trumpet, and by his herald commanded to end their difference by combat. Chasteneraye was observed to brave it with some insolence; but Jarnac carried it modestly and humbly.

“Each attacked the other with great vigour; and, after several strokes and trifling wounds on both sides, while Chasteneraye was making a pass at Jarnac, he fetched a stroke which cut the ham of Chasteneraye’s left leg, and presently redoubling his stroke, cut also the ham on the right:8 upon which Chasteneraye fell to the ground, and the other ran up to him, telling him that now his life was at his discretion, yet he would spare it if he would restore him his honour, and acknowledge his offence to God and the King. Chasteneraye answering nothing, Jarnac turned to the King, and, kneeling down, prayed that now he might be so happy as to be esteemed by him a man of honour; and, seeing his honour was restored, he would make his majesty a present of the other’s life, desiring his offence might be pardoned, and never more imputed to him or his, being the inconsiderate act of youth:9 to which the King made no answer. The former returned to his antagonist, and finding him still upon the ground, lifted up his face and hands to Heaven, and said, Lord, I am not worthy; not to me, but unto thy name be thanks! having said this, he prayed Chasteneraye to confess his error: but, instead of this, the latter raised himself on his knee, and, having a sword and buckler in his hand, offered a pass at Jarnac, who told him that if he offered to resist any more he would kill him, and the other bid him do it; without, however, doing him any harm, Jarnac made a second humble address to the King to accept of Chasteneraye’s life, to which the King made no manner of reply.

“Whereupon Jarnac coming back to his antagonist, who was lying stretched out upon the ground, his sword out of his hand, and his dagger out of its sheath, he accosted him with the fair words of old friend and companion, entreated him to remember his Creator, and to let them become friends again. But he attempting to turn himself without the signs of repentance and submission, Jarnac took away his sword and dagger, and laid them at the King’s feet, with repeated supplications to interpose for Chasteneraye’s life; which the King at last was advised to do, and ordered some of the great officers to go to him, and surgeons to take care of his life; but he would not suffer his wounds to be dressed, being wearied of life because of his disgrace, and so died in a little time through the loss of blood. It being told the King that, according to custom, Jarnac should be carried in triumph, Jarnac protested against it, saying that he affected no ostentation or vain-glory, that he had been only desirous to have his honour restored, and was contented with that; upon which the King made him this compliment, that he fought like Cæsar, and spoke like Aristotle. Yet the King’s inclinations were towards Chasteneraye. The poor lady, Jarnac’s mother-in-law, whose honour was at stake too, was all the while at St. Cloud, fasting and praying, and waiting impatiently the issue of this purgation of her innocency.”

Chasteneraye was considered the first swordsman in France, and he certainly did display in this transaction a singular mixture of vanity and brutality. Brantôme, who was a nephew of Chasteneraye, endeavours to show that there was foul play in this meeting, and that Jarnac wore a brassart without joint, by which means the buckler was held with greater security; at the same time, he states that Chasteneraye’s right arm was still weak from a wound he had received at Conys, in Piedmont. Howbeit, this unfortunate young man, who was only in his twenty-eighth year, was considered such an expert fencer and wrestler, that several duels were fought when a report of this fatal duel had been spread abroad, as his partisans would not admit the possibility of his succumbing before any other combatant: his dexterity in wrestling was so great, that Jarnac, to avoid the chances of a struggle, had insisted that both parties should wear two daggers.

By way of retribution, the monarch expressed his royal pleasure that no further duels should be allowed: indeed, this duel may be considered the last judicial one that has been recorded in France; although Charles IX. did authorize a combat between Albert de Luignes, who had been accused of treasonable practices by Panier, a captain in the guards. The parties fought in presence of the King and his court, in the wood of Vincennes: Panier inflicted a severe wound on the head of his opponent, who fell upon his knee; his seconds ran to his rescue; but Luignes, recovering himself, gave him a mortal thrust through the body. Nor was this the only instance where this weak and savage prince had recourse to the swords of others to rid himself of an enemy; he employed a famed bravo of the name of Maugerel to fight for him, who was therefore called the King’s Killer; and it is well known that he instructed Villequen to seek a quarrel with Lignerolles, the favourite and confidant of the Duke d’Anjou, while they were out hunting, on which occasion Lignerolles was killed.

While such was the practice in France, and other parts of the continent of Europe, England was not exempt from similar scenes of cruelty and superstition, and it was only during the reign of our Henry III. that the trial by ordeal, or ordaly, was abolished, in 1219: for, although several historians have doubted the fact, there is great reason to believe, from the barbarous customs of the times, that Edward the Confessor did actually compel Emma, the Queen Dowager, to the ordeal of the heated ploughshares, on the charge of her having participated in the murder of Alfred, besides having been guilty of a criminal intercourse with the Bishop of Winchester; the prelate very wisely refused to submit himself to a similar trial, by producing a letter written by Pope Stephen VI. to the Archbishop of Mayence in 887, in which he prohibited such practices.

The personal combat that is said to have taken place between Edmund Ironside and Canute, near Gloucester, appears to be a fabulous tradition, although the following account of it has been chronicled: “Edmund had the advantage of stature and of strength, but Canute possessed most address and activity. The conflict which took place in the presence of both their armies, was long and doubtful, until the Dane, beginning to lose ground, proposed an amicable settlement of their differences, thus addressing his adversary: ‘Valiant prince, have we not fought for a sufficient length of time to prove our courage? Let us therefore show proofs of our moderation; and, since we have equally shared the sun and the honour of this day, let us quit the field of battle and share the kingdom.’ ” This is evidently a fiction of romance, although there is some reason to believe that a challenge might have passed between them. We may view with similar hesitation of belief other no less chivalric relations of that important battle, in which it is stated that Edwi having cut off the head of one Osmer, whose countenance bore a strong resemblance to that of Edmund, had it carried on a spear, calling out to the English that their sovereign was no more; when Edmund, observing the consternation of his troops, took off his helmet to prove the error under which they laboured. It appears more probable that both these princes were compelled to enter into an amicable treaty by their own nobility and their troops, when Canute reserved to himself the northern division, and Edmund retained the sovereignty of the southern provinces.

Doubting the truth of this hostile personal meeting, several writers, amongst others Selden, maintain that duels were not known in England until the Norman invasion, when it is recorded that William sent a message by certain monks to Harold, requiring him either to resign the kingdom, submit their cause to the arbitration of the Pope, or fight him in single combat, to which Harold replied, that the God of battles would soon be the arbiter of their differences.

It has been observed, that, had the practice of duelling on such occasions been prevalent, the English chief could not, consistently with the laws of honour as then understood, have refused the challenge. It is, moreover, certain that at this period single combats were common in Normandy and other provinces in France; and what renders it probable that duelling, to ascertain rights maintained by the trial of combat, was introduced on the Norman accession, was the entrance of a champion in the ceremonial of the coronation, to this day preserved, who, casting down the gauntlet of defiance, declares himself ready to meet any one who dares contest the sovereign’s right to the throne, and originally to the dukedom of Normandy.

Prior to the Norman conquest we have no record of any duel or trial by battle, although the Anglo-Saxon laws were framed to prevent private quarrels and acts of vindictive violence. The law of Alfred enjoined, that if any one knows that his aggressor, after doing him an injury, is determined to keep within his own house, or on his own lands, he shall not fight him till he require compensation for the injury. If he be strong enough to besiege him in his house, he may do it for seven days; and, if the aggressor is willing during that time to surrender himself and his arms, his adversary may detain him thirty days, but is afterwards obliged to restore him safe to his kindred, and be contented with the compensation; but, if he refuses to deliver up his arms, it is then lawful to fight him. A slave might fight in his master’s quarrel; a father might fight in his son’s, with any one except with his master.

King Edmund, moreover, in the preamble to his laws, alluded to the multiplicity of private feuds and battles, established various enactments to check the evil; and regulated certain compensations for the loss of life, without any distinction between murder and manslaughter: every head had its price, from the king’s, that was valued at 30,000 thrimsas, considered to be about 1,300l. to that of a ceorle, or husbandman, 266; in this tariff, an archbishop’s head was rated at a much higher value than a monarch’s.

The price all wounds and injuries was also regulated: a wound of an inch long under the hair, one shilling; one of a like size in the face, two shillings; the loss of an ear, thirty shillings; and, according to the rare code of Ethelbert, any one who committed adultery with another man’s wife was obliged to buy him a new one.

This commutation for crimes appears to have been universal in ancient times. Blackstone informs us that in Ireland, by the Brehon laws, a murderer was obliged to give the surviving relatives of the slain a recompense, called Eviach. In Homer we have the same practice during the Trojan war; Nestor in his speech to Achilles thus addressing him:—If a brother bleed, On just atonement we remit the deed: A sire the slaughter of his son forgives: The price of blood discharged, the murderer lives. And again, in the 18th book of the Iliad, in the description of Achilles’s shield:— There in the Forum swarms a numerous train— The subject of debate, a townsman slain; One pleads the fine discharged, which one denied, And bade the public and the law decide.

The most curious part of this law of compensation was the weighing the value of a witness:—a man whose life was worth one hundred and twenty shillings counterbalanced six labourers, the life of each being estimated at twenty shillings; his oath was therefore considered equivalent to that of all the six.

These laws descended from the Germans, who, with the exception of the Frisians, sought to check the natural propensity of the people to acts of bloodthirsty revenge: thus we find, that if any man called another pare, or accused him of having lost his shield in battle, he had to pay a heavy fine; according to the laws of the Lombards, if a man called another arga, or “good for nothing,” he had a right to demand immediate satisfaction by arms.

These compensations and fines were called a fredum. For the proofs of guilt, ordeals similar to those described as having existed in France and other countries on the continent of Europe, were adopted in England: one of them, which was abolished in France by Louis le Debonnaire as impious, long prevailed amongst us—the decision of the cross.

The compurgators were to be freemen, and relations or neighbours of the accused, who upon their oath corroborated what he had asserted. It appears that in some cases the concurrence of no less than three hundred of these auxiliary witnesses was required. As men who are capable of disregarding truth are not deterred by the solemnity of an oath, this system of compurgation was found to be fraught with such flagrant iniquity, that appeals to Heaven were considered more effectual in ascertaining guilt or innocence.

The trials by hot iron and water were similar to those already described. In addition to these ordalies was the trial by the consecrated bread and cheese, or Corsned, commonly appealed to by the clergy when they were accused of any crime, and adopted by them, since it was not attended with danger or inconvenience. This ordeal was performed in the following manner:—A piece of barley-bread and a piece of cheese were consecrated; and prayers were then put up, to supplicate that God would send his angel Gabriel to stop the gullet of the priest, so that he might not be able to swallow the sacred bread and cheese, if he were guilty. This ceremony being concluded, the accused approached the altar, and took up the testing food: if he swallowed freely, he was declared innocent; if, on the contrary, it stuck in his throat, (which we may presume was rarely the case,) he was pronounced guilty. Our historians assert that Godwin Earl of Kent, in the reign of Edward the Confessor, abjuring the death of the King’s brother, at last appealed to the Corsned, “per buccellam deglutiendam abjuravit,” which stuck in his throat and killed him.

Whether, in the settlement of feuds, pecuniary compensation was deemed more satisfactory than the adversary’s blood, it is not an easy matter to decide; but certain it is, that duels do not appear, until the period alluded to, to have been as frequent in England as upon the Continent. Good cheer, and good horses, seem to have been considered as equivalent to cash: we find in our history a woman giving two hundred fat hens to the sovereign for permission to spend one night in prison with her husband, and bringing the monarch one hundreds fowls on account; while another unlucky wight gave five of his best palfreys to his sovereign lord the King to induce him to be silent regarding a faux pas of his wife. But, once established, it appears that trials by battle prevailed in England for a longer period than in any other country.

In 1096, William Count d’Eu, having been accused of a conspiracy against William Rufus by Godefroi Baynard, engaged him in single combat at Salisbury, in presence of the King and the whole court: the unfortunate count, having been worsted, was forthwith ordered to be emasculated, after both his eyes had been put out; his esquire at the same time whipped, and then hanged. Jussuque ideò Regis et concilii, ejiciuntur illi oculi testiculique abscinduntur; dapifero suo Willielmo de Aldori, filio amitæ ejus, sæviter flagellato et suspenso.

On Henry II.’s invasion of Wales, Henry de Essex, the hereditary standard-bearer, having been accused of felony by Robert de Montfort, his own relation, for dropping the standard on the field of battle and taking to flight, exclaiming that the King was killed, the parties met in single combat near Reading Abbey, where Essex was left for dead upon the field. However, upon his body being borne to the abbey, the monks perceived some traces of life; and, instead of his being hanged according to custom, the brethren of the monastery recovered him; but, as he was considered morally dead, he spent the remainder of his days in their holy cloisters.

From the time of William of Normandy, until that of Henry II, trial by single combat was the only honourable mode of decision of battle of right, until the alternative of the grand assizes, or the trial by jury, was instituted by the latter sovereign.

When the tenant in a writ of right pleaded the general issue, and offered to decide the cause by the body of a champion, a piece of ground was selected sixty feet square, inclosed with lists, and on one side a court was erected for the accommodation of the judges of the court of Common Pleas, who attended there in their scarlet robes: a bar was also prepared for the sergeants learned in law. When the court sat, which was before sun-rising, proclamation was made for both parties and their champions: the latter were introduced by two knights, and were dressed in a coat of mail, with red sandals, bare-legged from the knee downwards, bare-headed, and with arms bare to the elbows. The weapons allowed them were batons, or staves of an ell long, and a four-cornered leathern target, so that death very seldom ensued from these civil combats. In the court military, however, they fought with sword and lance.

When the champions thus armed arrived within the lists, or place of combat, the champion of the tenant took his adversary by the hand, and made oath that the tenement in dispute was not the right of the demandant; the champion of the demandant of course took a contrary oath. Another oath was then taken against sorcery and enchantment, in the following form:

“Hear this, ye justices, that I have neither eaten, drunk, nor have I upon me either bone, stone, or grass—no enchantment, sorcery, or witchcraft, whereby the law of God may be abased, or the law of the devil exalted; so help me God and his saints!”

The battle then began, and the combatants were bound to fight till the stars appeared in the evening; and, if the champion of the tenant could defend himself till the stars appeared, the tenant prevailed in his cause, and the vanquished was proclaimed a Craven: a degradation of the highest importance; for when a champion had once admitted that he was “Craven,” or one who craves for mercy, he ceased to be a freeman—liber et legalis homo, and, having been proved forsworn, was no longer eligible as a juryman, or in any manner entitled to belief or respect.

In appeals of felony, the parties were obliged to fight in their proper persons, unless the appellant were a woman, a priest, or an infant—of the age of sixty, lame, or blind; in either which cases, he or she counter-pleaded, and threw themselves upon the country. Peers of the realm could not be challenged to wage battle; nor the citizens of London, it being specified in their charter that fighting was foreign to their education and employment.

In regard to trial by battle in civil cases, the mystic appeal to the judgment of God at this period was abandoned, and the institution of chivalry gave to personal combats a character totally different.