Duelling was once an accepted practice in both European and American society. When two gentlemen had a disagreement, what was quaintly termed at the time ‘A matter of honor,’ they would agree to meet and fight with either swords or pistols, one-on-one, according to a strictly-defined code known as the ‘Code Duello.’ This is the story of the last fatal duel fought on British soil, fought on Priest Hill in the county of Surrey in October, 1852.
Oddly, neither of the combatants were British. In fact, both were French exiles living in England as a result of political and social upheavals in their native France. Both were experienced duelists, and one of them already had a conviction for murder in France and would later be hanged in England for an unrelated murder.
Lieutenant Frederic Cornet was a former naval officer, exiled for his role in a national uprising in 1848. Like most military officers of his time he was chivalrous man and it was his sense of honor that would prove his undoing. His opponent, Emmanuel Barthelemy, was a criminal and political activist with a violent streak and a vicious temper. He was also a convicted murderer, so his ability and willingness to kill were already proven. Odd bedfellows, you might think, but both were exiles and exiles of any nation often tend to rub shoulders with one another.
There were two alleged reasons for them to meet at dawn on Priest’s Hill on that October morning. They might have been fellow exiles, but they supported rival wings of the French exile movement. Barthelemy was a supporter of the faction led by Louis Blanc while Cournet was a follower of Blanc’s bitter opponent Alexander Ledru-Rollin. The other reason, political antipathy aside, was a woman. To be exact, a former girlfriend of Cournet’s whom Barthelemy is said to have insulted. By the standards of the time (bizarre though it may seem today) either reason would have been considered good enough for a challenge to be issued and a challenge duly was. Cournet, a skilled swordsman, challenged Barthelemy to a duel and Barthelemy accepted.
Unfortunately for Cournet, while he was a skilled swordsman, he wasn’t particularly good with a pistol and Barthelemy was. What Cournet seemed to forget was, under the very strict ‘Code Duello’ laid down in 1777 to govern the fighting of duels, was that as the challenger he didn’t get to choose between swords and pistols. As the man challenged, Barthelemy did get the choice. Knowing Cournet’s skill with a sword, Barthelemy had the sense to choose the weapon that gave him the advantage. He chose pistols. The duel’s terms were agreed, the combatants would fight with pistols on Priest’s Hill at dawn, and were delivered to the combatants via their seconds, friends who had agreed to act as go-betweens and to witness the duel being fought. Neither man being willing to back down, there was nothing left but for them to fight. The last fatal duel in England was now on.
Aside from his superior skill with a gun and being a proven killer already, Barthelemy’s other advantage was that he lacked any great sense of chivalry. Unlike Cournet, Barthelemy had no scruples about taking advantage of the scruples of others. He would do that on Priest’s Hill, with fatal results.
They met as arranged on Priest’s Hill, escorted by their seconds. Seconds attended duels not only to witness fair play and report either combatant showing any sign of cowardice, but also to enforce the rules. If, in a pistol duel, one combatant moved or fired before the agreed signal was given (known in dueling as ‘Taking advantage’) then the seconds had the right to use their own pistols and shoot the cheat where they stood. In sword duels, it wasn’t unknown for a breach of the rules to result in a bloody free-for-all as combatants and seconds all engaged each other at once once.
All was ready. The combatants and their seconds agreed a signal to fire, the seconds stood well back and, on that cold and misty October morning, British criminal history was made. Cournet fired first and missed. Barthelemy returned fire, or tried to. His own pistol misfired, failing to discharge the lead ball. Cournet, true to his chivalric approach to life and according to the strict rules of the ‘Code Duello’ stood rock-steady while Barthelemy again tired to fire his pistol. Again, it misfired.
According to the rules of dueling Cournet didn’t have to do what he then did and, if he hadn’t, he might well have lived to fight another day. What he did do was either truly courageous or breathtakingly stupid according to your point of view. Barthelemy’s weapon having failed, Cournet had a second reload his own pistol and offered it to his opponent. Barthelemy didn’t have to take the loaded pistol, either, but he did take it and promptly shot Cournet through the chest, mortally wounding him.
Barthelemy fled, as did his three seconds. Cournet’s seconds, Monsieurs Allain, Barronet and Mourney, stayed beside their fallen friend and with the help of a local doctor carried him to the Barley Mow Tavern, a pub which still stands today. There Cournet died of his wounds. All involved were now wanted men. The seconds were wanted for manslaughter and faced serious prison sentences. Emmanuel Barthelemy faced something far more serious. He was now wanted for murder and murder carried a mandatory death sentence at that time. They all fled, and they were all caught.
The seconds drew two months each for manslaughter, having already spent five months on remand until their cases were heard. Remarkably, the judge showed them mercy on account of their being foreigners and also, in the judge’s opinion, ignorant of English laws and traditions. A total of seven months for effectively being accessories to murder was a pretty good deal and they were only too happy to take it. Barthelemy, not for the first time, stood trial for his life on a charge of capital murder. At his trial, events were to take yet another twist.
Barthelemy pleaded self-defense on the grounds that Cournet had been standing before him with a gun in his hand, fully prepared and willing to kill him. The fact that he was as willing a combatant as Cournet seems to have been overlooked by the trial judge and prosecution and, especially, by the jury. Emmanuel Barthelemy was acquitted. English attitudes to foreigners at the time probably played a significant part their decision, the prevailing attitude being that foreigners were lesser than native English folk and so couldn’t necessarily be held to same high standards of conduct. Barthelemy wasn’t to be so lucky a couple of years later.
After the duel and his surprising acquittal, you might think that Barthelemy would have grasped that having risked the guillotine in his native France and the gallows in his adopted England, it was time for him to live a decent, law-abiding existence. It wasn’t. He spent the next couple of years working in London as a civil engineer and in 1855 he finally met his Waterloo. While visiting an acquaintance in London the two had a significant argument which culminated in Barthelemy inflicting serious injuries on his host with a stick before shooting him dead. Fleeing the house, Barthelemy soon found himself being pursued and caught by former police officer Charles Collard. Seeing no chance of escape and knowing he had to escape Collard to avoid yet another murder trial and probable public hanging, Barthelemy turned to his friend, the pistol. Charles Collard fell mortally wounded, but survived long enough to make a dying declaration positively identifying Barthelemy as his killer. Barthelemy’s goose was now well and truly cooked.
Barthelemy was detained immediately after shooting Collard by two other men who disarmed and restrained him until police arrived. The next day police brought him to visit Collard, who positively identified him shortly before dying. He was tried in January 1855 on a charge of capital murder and, this time, was convicted. Given his lengthy criminal history and public notoriety, the judges opted not to show mercy. Nor did the Home Secretary or Queen Victoria when they were asked to grant him a reprieve in response to the jury making (for some unknown reason) a strong recommendation for mercy.
For Emmanuel Barthelemy, mercy wasn’t forthcoming and his time would soon run out. On Monday January 22, 1855, Barthelemy was met in his cell by an escort party and the chief public hangman and his assistant. He was pinioned with a leather body belt and escorted out through Newgate Prison to its legendary ‘New Drop’ where the noose and hood were applied and he was asked if he had any final words. He had none. Before a sizable crowd, public executions still being standard practice, the hangman jerked the lever and Barthelemy dropped to his death.