Madame de Staël’s observations on duelling in Germany are worthy of remark:—“Germany, if we except some courts anxious to imitate the manners of the French, was never assailed by that infatuation, immorality, and incredulity, which, since the regency, had changed the natural character of the French. Feudality still maintained in Germany some of its chivalric maxims: duels occasionally took place, but they were not so frequent as in France; for the Germans do not possess the same vivacity and petulance as the French nation, nor do they partake of the same notions of courage, public opinion being much more severe on the want of probity and fair dealing. If a man had transgressed the laws of morality, ten duels a day would not have enabled him to recover the esteem he had forfeited. In France we constantly see persons of distinguished rank, who, when accused of an improper action, will say, “It may have been wrong, but no one will dare assert it to my face!” Such an expression is an evident proof of confirmed depravity; for what would be the condition of society, if it was only requisite to kill one another, to commit with impunity every evil action,—to break one’s word and assert a falsehood, provided no one dared tell you that you had lied?
“The spirit of chivalry still reigns amongst the Germans,—but passively. They are incapable of deceit, and in every transaction act with loyalty; but that energy which exposed man to so many sacrifices, which exacted from woman so many virtues,—the chivalric spirit of olden times,—has only left feeble traces in Germany, where noble actions will only be the result of that liberal impulse which in Europe has succeeded chivalry.”
Chateaubriand pays a similar compliment to the German people:—“I love Germany; I admire its domestic virtues and its hospitable manners; its poetic and religious sentiments, and its love for science. Amongst the Germans we feel that invincible power that conceals the positiveness of the world and the prosaism of life.”
In Russia duels very rarely took place, a circumstance which in a great measure may be attributed to the ferocity of their princes, who not only saw the penal laws executed, but not unfrequently acted themselves as executioners: a fact illustrated by Peter I, who gave the signal for the judicial massacre of the revolted Strelitz, his Pretorian guards, by seizing an axe and striking off the heads of a hundred of his victims. The gross and brutal conduct of the Russian autocrat towards women was imitated by his court and the people; and it can scarcely be expected that a nice sense of honour can prevail in the minds of men who only punished infidelity by a bastinade inflicted on both the offending parties, and who usually testified their affection by submitting the object of their love to the knout,—indeed, the fair sex of Muscovy considered this infliction as a gallantry on the part of their husbands; nor could their sense of delicacy be very acute, when we find their Empress kneeling at the shrine of the Virgin and St. Nicholas, to ask from what company of her guards she was to select her favourite paramour.
The Russian laws against duelling were most severe. In the military penal code of Peter I. it was ordered, that whoever provoked another to fight a duel should be hanged, whether the duel took place or not; that the seconds should suffer the same punishment, unless they exerted themselves to prevent the meeting. That in the case of any dispute, or blow being given, the aggressor was to ask pardon of the offended party in presence of the military tribunal; and that whoever should slap another’s face was to submit to a public retaliation. In the code of Catherine we find, in the 234th article, the following view of the subject:—“As to duelling, the best mode of preventing it is to punish the aggressor, and to declare the innocence of the man who, without any fault of his own, has found himself under the necessity of avenging his honour.” We also find in an ukase of Catherine the following enactment:—
“Whoever insults or strikes a citizen with an unarmed hand, shall forfeit the amount of whatever yearly tax the citizen pays to the state. Whoever insults or injures the wife or the daughter of a citizen, shall pay double the amount for the wife, and four times the amount for the daughter, of the annual tax the father or husband pays to the state.”
It was, however, no uncommon practice on the part of the Czars to strike their officers and attendants. Peter the Great would cane any person, whatever might have been his rank, who had offended him. Indeed, a blow from an imperial hand was considered an honour: though this was not the case with a French architect, of the name of Le Blond, who, after a caning, took it so much to heart, that he fell ill of a fever and died.
It appears that no prestige of rank could screen Russian ladies from the brutal treatment of their husbands and lovers; and the Empress Catherine herself was frequently horsewhipped by Gregory Orloff, the most favoured of the five brothers of that name who shared her smiles. No duels arose among her numerous lovers. Potemkin, playing one day at billiards with Alexis Orloff, a brother-favourite, had some difference, when Orloff struck him on the eye with a cue: the parties were separated; but Alexis complained to his brother Gregory, then the greater favourite, who insisted that Potemkin should be immediately exiled, a request that the Empress did not dare refuse; and Potemkin, who had lost an eye in the affray, was banished to Smolensko. He was recalled, however, a year afterwards, and he soon avenged himself by banishing his former rival, whom he succeeded; and shortly after, he ceded her charms to another lover of the name of Lanskoi. Orloff travelled, married, and visited the court of France, which he publicly insulted by going to a levee in a common undress suit of clothes; an offence which was not resented by Choiseul, the French minister. Orloff’s wife soon after died, when he returned to St. Petersburgh on the very night that the Empress was giving a ball in the palace of Tzarco-zelo. He repaired to the festive hall in deep mourning, and made up to Catherine, who was leaning on the arm of her favourite Lanskoi, when he exclaimed with a ferocious look, “So, Kalinga, you are still fond of dancing;—will you waltz with me? You hesitate: does my dress alarm you? Do you know,” he added in a dismal tone of voice, “do you know that my wife is dead? do you know it? and, if you knew it, how did you dare to give this entertainment?” and, thus saying, he seized a chair and dashed it to pieces. Lanskoi wanted to rush upon the ruffian, but Catherine forcibly held him back, and assured Orloff that she was not aware of his wife’s death; when he continued, “Yes, she is dead, and I am alive! I am miserable, Kalinga! for I loved my wife dearly!” and, so saying, he burst into tears; when, suddenly casting his eyes upon Lanskoi, he exclaimed, “So, this is the young new-comer! Ha! you are very young, my boy! poor blind buzzard, to be caught in such a snare!” Again Lanskoi wanted to have recourse to force to expel the bold intruder, who threatened to throw him out of the window if he stirred one step; while Catherine exclaimed in agony, “He is mad! he is mad!” “Yes, I am mad!” replied the ruffian with a bitter laugh; “but who maddened me?—was it not thou, Kalinga? was it not for thee that I became a regicide, an assassin? and now, woman, you tell me I am mad!” So saying, he raised his hand to strike her; but Catherine swooned on a sofa, and Orloff stalked out of the ball-room unmolested. No punishment was inflicted on him for this audacious conduct; on the contrary, he frequently attended the court, until he died of a brain-fever in 1785. Lanskoi soon followed him to the grave; when Potemkin sought to assuage the despair of Catherine by privately marrying her, receiving as a marriage portion a palace worth 600,000 roubles, a coat embroidered with diamonds worth 200,000 roubles, and 200,000 peasants! Such was the wealth lavished on this favourite, that he died worth 300,000,000 francs!—Could duels, or any feeling of honour, be known in such a court?
However, at a later period, under Alexander I, who entertained some chivalric notions and a faint idea of honour, duels came into fashion. A singular manner of settling a quarrel was instanced in the case of an old general officer of the name of Zass, who, having received from Prince Dolgoroucki an order which would have defeated his plan of operations, refused to obey him. High words ensued, and a challenge was forwarded. At that moment the Swedish artillery was heard, and intelligence was brought that the enemy were attacking a redoubt. “Prince,” said the general, “we cannot fight a duel when our duty calls us to meet the enemy; but let us both stand in an embrasure of that battery, against which the enemy are directing their fire, and let us remain there until one of us is struck.” Dolgoroucki accepted the proposal. They both exposed themselves to the enemy’s fire, standing erect with one hand on the hip, and looking fiercely at each other, until the prince was cut in two by a cannon-ball; this desperate resolve being witnessed by the whole army.
A conflict no less singular occurred in the case of one of the most celebrated Russian duellists, a Count de Tolstoy, who, having quarrelled with a naval officer, sent him a message, which was declined on the plea of the count’s dexterity in the use of arms. Tolstoy then proposed that they should fight with pistols muzzle to muzzle; but this also the sailor declined, and insisted upon fighting according to what he called a naval manner, which was, to seize each other and jump into the water, the victory being awarded to the party that escaped drowning. The count in his turn objected to the proposal, on the plea that he could not swim, on which his adversary accused him of cowardice; when he rushed upon him, seized him, and threw himself with him into the sea. However, they were both drawn out of the water; but the naval officer was so much injured, that he died a few days after.