A celebrated combat that took place at Valenciennes in 1455 has been recorded by many historians. This battle was fought in maintenance of an ancient franchise, which provided that any man who killed another in self-defence, might claim a franchise at Valenciennes, and maintain with staff and shield that the contest had been fair. In this instance, a tailor, named Mahuot Cocquel, sought refuge in this town, after having killed a citizen of Tournay, one Philippe du Gardin, who had had the impertinence to refuse him his daughter. A relation of the deceased, Jacotin Plouvier, followed the tailor, and accused him of having feloniously killed Du Gardin. The two champions were forthwith put in prison; and a Breton (Britanny being renowned for its skill in cudgelling) was attached to each of the parties, to teach them the use of the staff.
On the 20th of May, the field being appointed, the Duke of Burgundy, and his son the Duke de Charolais, attended by a numerous court, proceeded to the spot. A triple barrier had been raised in the market-place, and the ground was deeply covered with sand; the space between the second and third barrier was appropriated to the accommodation of the prevost, the jury-men, and several of the nobility; and the third row was for the reception of three hundred knights, their squires, and the wealthy burghers.
At nine o’clock in the morning, the champions appeared. Their heads had been shaved, and they wore tight leather doublets. Jacotin, the appellant, first appeared, accompanied by his Breton, and followed by a man carrying his target in a sack. After crossing himself several times, he sat down on a chair covered with black cloth; Mahuot Cocquel followed with a similar train, and, falling on his knees, crossed himself with great devotion, kissed the ground, and then seated himself on another stool covered with black.
The magistrates then proceeded to swear the champions on the holy Evangelists. Jacotin kissed the book, and swore that his cause was a just one; Mahuot did the same, and added, that Jacotin was a false and villanous liar; but, on kissing the book a second time, it was observed that he turned pale.
The parties were then smeared with grease from head to foot, to prevent their being easily grasped, and their hands were rubbed with ashes, that their staves might be more securely held. Food was then presented them on two silver salvers; and, to show them that it was not poisonous, the bearers of the collation themselves tasted it. A lump of sugar was then put into their mouths, that they might not become parched, and they were then armed with two knotty cudgels of equal length, and bucklers painted red; but they were obliged to bear the shield with its point uppermost, to show that they were not of noble birth.
The prevost of the town now exclaimed in a loud and audible voice, “Do your duty!” and the combatants rushed upon each other. Mahuot commenced the attack by throwing sand in his adversary’s eyes, and then broke his head with his staff; but Jacotin attacked his antagonist in his turn, knocked his buckler off, and then knocked him down; Mahuot rose to be knocked down again, while Jacotin was rubbing sand in his eyes, biting his ears, and pommelling his face. The Duke of Burgundy, Philippe le Bon, felt compassion for the battered Mahuot, and sent one of his officers to the magistrates, to know if it were not possible to save the life of the unfortunate man; but they replied, that the privileges of their town must be maintained. In the mean time, Jacotin was pursuing his delectable occupation, cramming sand in his opponent’s mouth, biting and scratching him, and then turning him upon his face; in which exploit, however, Mahuot contrived to bite off one of his fingers: a mutilation that so incensed the conqueror, that, according to the chronicler, he broke his arm and his loins, and then jumping upon him, roared out, “Surrender, traitor, and confess the fact, that thou didst murder my poor relation!” to which Mahuot replied, “I confess it! I confess it!” “Speak louder, that thou mayest be heard!” roared out Jacotin. “I did it! I did it!” cried Mahuot; “and oh! my Lord Duke of Burgundy,” he added, “I served you faithfully in your wars of Ghent,—oh! my good lord, I pray for mercy!—for God’s sake, save my life!”
Again the duke sent to the burgomasters; but they remained inflexible, sticking to their fueros. They even maintained that the deceased should not be allowed a Christian burial; and then Jacotin despatched his victim with four desperate blows on the head; after which, he dragged him off the ground by the legs; but Mahuot was not quite dead, for he was able to recite his creed, confess his sins to a Carmelite, and drink several glasses of wine, before he yielded up the ghost.
The magistrates then ascended the bench, and ordered that, according to their sacred municipal privileges, the vanquished should be hanged and strangled as a murderer, which was forthwith done by the executioner. The conqueror then went up to the burgomaster, and asked him, if he had properly done his duty: to which it was replied in the affirmative; and he was informed, that he was free to go wherever he thought proper. He of course proceeded to the chapel of Notre Dame la Grande, to present an offering, and return thanksgivings for her protection. The staves, bucklers, and stools of the combatants were then suspended as trophies in the town-hall.
Amongst the many ferocious combats of these barbarous times may be noticed the duel between Arnold d’Egmont and Adolphus, his son, who was encouraged in his unnatural conduct by his mother, Catherine de Cleves.
Numerous edicts and placards were promulgated at various periods to check the progress of duelling in the Low Countries, but with as little success as in France. Of late years, these hostile meetings have become very rare, and are chiefly confined to the military; although, after the revolution of 1833, duels arose in consequence of the stormy discussions that took place in the chambers. In June 1833, two deputies, Messrs. Rogier and Gendebien, fought with pistols at a distance of forty paces, being allowed to advance ten paces on each other. Rogier fired first, but missed his opponent, who, firing in his turn, at a distance of thirty-five paces, shot his antagonist in the mouth. M. Gendebien was afterwards called out by a French general officer, to apologise for his objection to the employment of foreigners in the Belgian army; but the deputy very wisely refused to meet him, on the score of parliamentary freedom of speech.