The following year, history records another merciless act of the cardinal. François de Montmorency, better known under the name of Boutteville, was one of the most renowned duellists of the day. This nobleman, whenever he heard that a person bore the reputation of a courageous man, was in the practice of walking up to him, and quietly saying, “I understand, sir, that you are courageous; I wish to enable you to prove it—what are your weapons?” Every morning the hall of his hotel was crowded with what was called the “golden youth of France,” where fencing and trials of skill at all arms were practised, and a sumptuous collation laid out for the company. The excesses of these desperadoes were so reckless, that a special edict appeared to keep them within limits. Such was the audacity of Boutteville, that he actually compelled the Count of Pont Gibaut on an Easter Sunday to quit his devotions and fight him: he was also denounced for having killed the Marquis de Portes and the Count de Thorigny. Shortly after, fighting the Baron de la Frette, in which duel his second was killed, he was obliged to absent himself from Paris: he fixed upon Brussels to meet another adversary, the Marquis de Beuvron, a relation of Thorigny, whose death he was anxious to avenge. The King, upon hearing of this determination, wrote immediately to the Archduchess, who then governed the Low Countries, to prevent this meeting; and directed the Marquis de Spinola to settle their differences. For this purpose, this nobleman invited them both to a splendid repast, and made them embrace each other, with vows of everlasting friendship, and a total forgiveness of all past injuries, in the presence of a numerous company. Notwithstanding these solemn protestations, De Beuvron, on quitting the house, whispered to Boutteville, “that he never would rest satisfied until he had met him sword in hand.” Boutteville however refused to meet him, on the plea of the solemn promise he had made the Archduchess to abstain from any hostile act while on her territory; but he entreated that princess to write to Louis XIII, to obtain the King’s permission to return to France: to which application the monarch replied, “that all that he could do, for the love he bore her, was to allow him to remain in France without further prosecution, but he could not permit him to make his appearance at court.”
Beuvron returned to Paris, wrote no less than eight letters to Boutteville to request him to meet him there, and on his arrival proposed a duel without seconds: to which Boutteville replied, “that he would have had no objection to this arrangement, had not two of his friends expressed a wish to join the party; and that he should have to give them satisfaction if they were, disappointed.” The following day, the 12th of May, was fixed for the meeting, at three in the afternoon, on the Place Royale, one of the most public places in the capital; Boutteville declaring that “he would fight under sunshine,” and following, in this remark, the example of the celebrated duellist De Bussy, who, being challenged to fight by night, replied, “that he would not condescend to display his valour to the stars, or even to the moon, since they were not able to contemplate him properly, or appreciate his skill; the obscurity of night being only fit to screen deeds of darkness:” he further advised the parties to bring two pioneers with them to dig their graves. It appears that strange notions prevailed on such occasions; and Brantôme relates the case of a gentleman who invited another to fight him on a winter’s night in their shirts; to which he sent answer, “that he would not expose himself to catch a cold, or a purging, which he dreaded more than his antagonist’s valour.”
Howbeit, our champions met, with their four seconds; one of whom left his sick bed for the purpose. The combat began with sword and dagger, when, casting the former weapon away, the principals collared each other, and fought with their daggers; which both holding at each other’s throat, they mutually asked for quarter. In the mean time, one of the seconds, the celebrated Bussy D’Amboise, had been run through the throat by a mortal thrust; and another second, La Berthe, was also put hors de combat. The principals very quietly went to lunch at a barber’s shop; and, after seeing La Berthe’s wounds dressed, rode out of Paris. Bussy had just time to cross himself, and die in the arms of a worthy friar.
The fugitives, who were quietly quitting the kingdom, were recognised by the emissaries of the sister of the deceased Bussy: Boutteville was arrested, after having eaten a hearty supper, and retired to rest; he was carried to the Bastille. On the 21st, being condemned to death, he was executed the following day on the Place de Grève with great military pomp, attended by the Bishop of Nantes: he was as anxious to preserve his mustachoes as Sir Thomas More was to put his beard out of the way of the executioner’s axe; when the worthy prelate observed, “Oh! my son, you must no longer dwell on worldly matters! Do you still think of life?” “I only think of my mustachoes!—the very finest in France,” replied the penitent.
CHAPTER X.
DUELS DURING THE REIGN OF LOUIS XIV.
I cannot better commence the present chapter than by quoting the following view of this epoch, entertained by a late writer on the subject:—13
“The despotism of Richelieu gave birth to the autocracy of Louis XIV; it became the energetic prologue of events naturally progressive. Ministerial absolutism served as a transition to regal absolute power. The ancient feudal liberty had been levelled by the monarchical scythe, while democratic equality was not as yet sufficiently matured to supply its place. The interregnum between these two influences left a wide and fertile field for the uncontrolled and unlimited authority of the Grand Monarque, whose name was of sufficient weight in the scale of renown to fill up this lapse with the most brilliant prestiges. It was during this invasion of one man on the ancient domains of our rights and liberties that individualism arose: this principle was more fully developed during the voluptuous lethargy of Louis XV, and prepared the way for the final triumph of democracy under the feeble sceptre of his successor.
“Richelieu dead, the aristocracy, which had ceased to be a rival power of the throne, became its ornament, and only preserved so much of its former glories as might have been shed around the captive sovereigns who surrounded the triumphal cars of Roman conquerors. Yet did it appear satisfied with this humiliation when reflecting on the miserable crowd of slaves that followed it; the proud contempt of the victor not foreseeing that these captives would, in their turn, burst forth from their shackles to trample under foot the ruins both of aristocracy and monarchy.
“Louis XIV, in the intervals of his warlike policy, fully understood the advantages that he could reap from these elements of aristocracy, dispersed so widely by his predecessors; and he lost no time in collecting their bleeding remains. The nobility, in his hands, was remodelled into an institution purely military, and he claimed from them to restore France to her natural limits, the same means that Charles VII. had pursued to liberate the kingdom. Thus was re-established a patrician militarism, in imitation of that German militarism which dated from the conquest of the Gauls, and which ultimately led to the plebeian militarism of modern times.”
The minority of this monarch had been marked by troubled times, during which the spirit of duelling, that Richelieu had to a certain extent repressed, broke forth afresh with renewed energies; and the disturbances of the Fronde naturally increased these bloody feuds, by giving a certain object and character to the hostile meetings that daily took place. The monarch, anxious to preserve the blood of his subjects for more noble enterprises, sought every means to check the evil; and during his reign no less than ten edicts were promulgated to restrain these excesses: the formulary of these enactments