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THE
HISTORY OF DUELLING:
INCLUDING,
NARRATIVES
OF THE MOST
REMARKABLE PERSONAL ENCOUNTERS
THAT HAVE TAKEN PLACE FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE PRESENT TIME.
BY
J. G. MILLINGEN, M.D. F.R.S.
AUTHOR OF “CURIOSITIES OF MEDICAL EXPERIENCE,” ETC.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.
1841.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Bangor House, Shoe Lane.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
-------
CHAPTER I.
DUELS IN GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.
Personal Combats introduced into England Page
by the followers of William the 1
Conqueror.—Modification of the
barbarous practice of Trial by
Battle.—The Law of England with regard
to Duels.—Legal Opinions on the
subject by the greatest Authorities
Case of Morgan.—Case of Richard 5
Taverner.—Early Challenges.—Combats
prevented by Regal and Judicial
Interference.—Challenge of the Duke of
Brunswick by the Duke of Lancaster—and
of the Duke of Norfolk by the Duke of
Hereford
Meeting between the Earl of Salisbury 6
and the Bishop of Salisbury, for the
right of the Castle of Old
Sarum.—Desuetude of the Trial by
Battle.—Instance of, in the reign of
Elizabeth,—and in the Court of
Chivalry in 1631.—Case of Thornton and
Ashford, in 1818.—The barbarous and
superstitious practice abolished
Duels in the Reign of James the 9
First.—Lord Bacon’s Speech in the
Star-Chamber Court.—His determination
to make no distinction between a
Coronet and a Hatband in his efforts
to repress the practice.—Instances of
the chivalric notions of the
Times.—Lord Herbert of Cherbury’s
Challenge to De Guise.—Fatal Duel
between Sir Hatton Cheek and Sir
Thomas Dutton.—Between Lord Sanquair
and a Fencing-master.—Desperate Duel
between two Noblemen
Cause of the rarity of Duelling during 21
the Civil Wars.—Cromwell’s Ordinance
for punishing and preventing the
practice.—Purgation by Single Combat
in 1631.—Case of Lord Rea.—Fatal Duel
between the Earl of Dorset and Lord
Bruce at Antwerp.—Between Duke
Hamilton and Lord Mohun.—Bill brought
into the House of Commons for the
Prevention of Duelling.—Lord Mohun’s
Trial for the Murder of Montford the
Player
Duel, in 1662, between Mr. Jermyn and 38
Colonel Rawlins.—Lord Chancellor
Clarendon challenged by Lord
Ossory.—Scuffle between the Duke of
Buckingham and the Marquess of
Dorchester.—Meeting in Covent-garden
between Sir Henry Bellasses and Mr.
Porter.—Duel between the Earl of
Shrewsbury and the Duke of
Buckingham—and between their seconds,
Sir John Talbot and Sir J.
Jenkins.—Sir William Coventry
committed to the Tower by the King for
sending a challenge to
Buckingham.—Anecdote illustrative of
the profligacy of the times.––Quarrel
of Ambassadors regarding precedency
Quarrel between Beau Fielding and 46
Fulwood.—Duel between Dr. Mead and Dr.
Woodward.—Between Dr. Williams and Dr.
Bennet.—Between Ensign Sawyer and
Captain Wrey.—Between Mr. Paul and Mr.
Dalton.—Prevalence of general
frays.—Riot of about a hundred
“gentlemen” in Windmill-street with
swords and canes.—Clubs of
desperadoes.—Proclamation to suppress
them
Duel between Major Oneby and Mr. 52
Gower.—Sentence of death passed on the
Major.—Endeavours of Addison and
Steele to check the rage for
duelling.—Duel between Sir
Cholmondeley Dering and Mr.
Thornhill.—Addison’s account of the
“Hum-drum and Mum
clubs.”—Anecdote.—Duel between Steele
and a brother officer in the
Coldstream Guards.—Letter from an
officer of the Guards declining a
meeting.—Anecdote related by Horace
Walpole illustrative of the manners of
the day
Duel between Lord Byron and Mr. 60
Chaworth.—Reflections thereon.—Duel
between Lord Talbot and John
Wilkes.—Between Mr. Wilkes and Mr.
Martin.—Between Mr. Wilkes and Mr.
Forbes
CHAPTER II.
DUELS DURING THE REIGN OF GEORGE THE THIRD.
Reflections on the frequency of Duelling 84
during this long reign
Duel between Lord Kilmaurs and a French 92
officer, at Marseilles, May, 1765
—— two Officers on Kennington Common, 94
1765
—— Mr. Henry Flood and Mr. Agar, 1769 94
—— George Garrick and Mr. Baddeley, 1770 94
—— Lord Milton and Lord Poulett, January 95
29, 1771
—— Mr. M’Lean and Mr. Cameron, 1772 95
—— Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Esq. and 96
Mr. Matthews, 1772
—— Lord Townshend and the Earl of 98
Bellamont, Feb. 2, 1773
—— Mr. Scawen and Mr. Fitzgerald, Sept. 99
1, 1773
—— Mr. Whately and Mr. Temple, December 99
11, 1773
—— Captain Stoney and the Rev. Mr. Bate, 101
Jan. 13, 1777
—— Count Rice and Viscount Du Barry, 102
Nov. 23, 1778
—— a Lieutenant Colonel and a Lieutenant 103
of Militia, Aug. 25th, 1779
—— the Hon. Charles James Fox and Mr. 104
Adam, Nov. 30, 1779
—— Counsellor R.—— and ——, Nov. 1779 107
—— the Earl of Shelburne and Colonel 108
Fullarton, March 22, 1780
—— Mr. Donovan and Captain Hanson, 111
April, 1780
—— the Rev. Mr. Bate and Mr. R——, Sept. 112
1780
—— the Rev. Mr. Allen and Mr. Dulany, 113
June 26, 1782
—— Mr. Riddell and Mr. Cunningham, April 116
21, 1783
—— Captain I—— and Colonel P——, June 6, 118
1783
—— the Hon. Colonel Cosmo Gordon and 119
Lieutenant Colonel Thomas, Sept. 4,
1783
—— Mr. Munro and Mr. Green, Oct. 17, 120
1783
—— Lieutenant Harrison and Mr. Van 120
Burensham, October, 1783
—— Sir J. Lowther and Sergeant Bolton, 121
April, 1784
—— an Officer of the Navy and a German 121
Officer, August, 1784
—— Captain Brises and Captain Bulkley, 122
February, 1785
—— Lieut. F—— and Mr. Gordon ——, March, 122
1785
—— Lord Macartney and Mr. Sadleir, 123
April, 1785
—— the Earl of A—— and Mr. F. M. June 124
19, 1785
—— Comte de Gersdorff and M. Le Favre, 124
July, 1785
—— Lord William Murray and Mr. Waugh, 125
November, 1785
—— Lieutenant Gamble and Lieutenant 125
Mollison, January, 1786
—— Lord Macartney and Major-General 126
Stewart, June 8, 1786
—— Mr. Hutchinson and Lord Mountmorris, 128
May, 1787
—— the Chevalier La B—— and Captain S——, 129
June, 1787
—— Sir John Macpherson and Major Browne, 129
Sept. 10, 1787
—— Mr. Keon and Mr. Reynolds, Jan. 31, 130
1788
—— His Royal Highness the Duke of York 131
and Colonel Lennox, May, 1789
—— Captain Pellew and Lieut. Northey, 134
June, 1789
—— Captain Tongue and Captain Paterson, 134
June 19, 1789
—— Colonel Lennox and Theophilus Swift, 135
Esq. July 1, 1789
—— Mr. Curran and Major Hobart, April 1, 135
1790
—— Sir George Ramsay and Captain Macrae, 136
April 15, 1790
—— Mr. Stephens and Mr. Anderson, Sept. 138
21, 1790
—— Captain Harvey Aston and Lieutenant 138
Fitzgerald, June 25, 1790
—— Mr. Graham and Mr. Julius, July 19, 139
1791
—— Mr. Frizell and Mr. Clark, June, 1792 141
—— Mr. John Kemble and Mr. Aikin, March, 143
1792
—— Lord Lauderdale and General Arnold, 145
July 2, 1792
—— M. Chauvigny and M. Charles Lameth, 145
Nov. 8, 1792
—— Mr. Purefoy and Colonel Roper, Aug. 146
14, 1794
—— Major Sweetman and Captain Watson, 148
January 12, 1796
—— Mr. Richard England and Mr. Rowlls, 149
Feb. 19, 1796
—— Lord Malden and the Duke of Norfolk, 151
April 30, 1796
—— Lord Valentia and Mr. Gawler, June 151
28, 1796
—— Mr. Carpenter and Mr. Pride, Aug. 20, 152
1796
—— Lieutenant Fitzgerald and Lieutenant 152
Warrington, May 4, 1797
—— Captain Smith and Lieutenant Buckley, 153
Aug. 5, 1797
—— Colonel King and Colonel Fitzgerald, 153
October, 1797
—— the Right. Hon. William Pitt and Mr. 160
Tierney, May 21, 1798
—— Colonel Harvey Aston and Major Allen, 161
Dec. 23, 1798
—— Mr. Coolan and Mr. Morcan, March 19, 162
1800
—— Mr. Corry and Mr. Newburgh, May 16, 162
1800
—— Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Eaker, January, 163
1802
—— Mr. Hunter and Mr. Mitchell, August, 164
1802
—— Captain W—— and Captain I——, March, 165
1803
—— Lieutenant-Colonel Montgomery and 166
Captain Macnamara, April 6, 1803
—— Lord Camelford and Capt. Best, March, 171
1804
—— Ensign Browne and Lieutenant Butler, 179
January 1, 1806
—— Major Brookes and Colonel Bolton, 180
January 4, 1806
—— Lieutenant Turrens and Mr. Fisher, 181
March 22, 1806
—— Mr. Rogers and Mr. Long, May 3, 1806 182
—— Baron Hompesch and Mr. Richardson, 182
September 22, 1806
—— Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Paull, 182
May 5, 1807
—— Major Campbell and Captain Boyd, 188
August, 1808
—— Lord Paget and the Hon. Captain 199
Cadogan, May, 1809
—— Lord Castlereagh and the Right Hon. 201
George Canning, September 21, 1809
—— Mr. Payne and Mr. Clark, Sept. 6, 204
1810
—— Captain Boardman and Ensign De 205
Betton, March 4, 1811
—— Mr. Colclough and Mr. Alcock 205
—— Mr. Harrison and ——, May 9, 1811 208
CHAPTER III.
DUELS IN VARIOUS COUNTRIES, FROM 1820 TO 1841.
—— Mr. Grattan and Lord Clare, June 11, 242
1820
—— T. Hungerford, Esq. and R. Travers, 243
Esq, August 13, 1820
—— Mr. R. Stuart and Mr. Townsend Dade, 243
August 20, 1820
—— Mr. Fulliot and Mr. Burrowes, 244
September 17, 1820
—— Mr. John Scott and Mr. Christie, 244
February 16, 1821
—— Viscount Petersham and Thomas Webster 252
Wedderburne, Esq, April 21, 1821
—— M. Manuel and M. Beaumont, April 10, 256
1821
—— Mr. William Brittlebank and Mr. 259
Cuddie, May 22, 1821
—— Sir Alexander Boswell, Bart., of 265
Auchinleck, and Mr. Stuart, of
Duncarn, March 26, 1822.
—— The Duke of Bedford and The Duke of 274
Buckingham, May 2, 1822
—— M. Benjamin Constant and M. Forbin 277
Des Issarts, June 6, 1822
—— M. Pinac and An Englishman, July, 277
1822
—— General Pepe and General Carascosa, 278
February, 1823
—— Colonel Graves and Captain Lacy, May, 280
1823
—— The Marquis of Londonderry and Mr. 281
Battier, May 6, 1824
—— Captain Gourlay and Mr. Westall, 283
October 30, 1824
—— Mr. Lambton, Afterwards Earl of 284
Durham, and Mr. Beaumont, July 1, 1826
—— The Marquis de Livron and M. Du 287
Trone, November 18, 1826
—— Mr. Bric and Mr. Hayes, December 26, 287
1826
—— M. Goulard and M. Caire, February 21, 289
1827
—— The Duke of Wellington and The Earl 290
of Winchilsea, March 21, 1829.
—— Capt. Helsham and Lieut. Crowther, 304
April 1, 1829
—— Mr. Lambrecht and Mr. Clayton, 309
January 8, 1830
—— Captain Smith and Standish O’Grady, 315
Esq, March 17, 1830
—— Dr. Smith and Dr. Jeffries, August, 319
1830
—— General Sebastiani and General 320
Lamarque, August 1, 1831
—— Major-General Moore and Mr. 321
Stapylton, February 13, 1832
—— General Jacqueminot and M. Belmonte, 323
March 23, 1832
—— M. Coste and M. Bénoit, September, 324
1832
—— Sir John Jeffcott and Dr. Hennis, May 327
10, 1833
—— M. Charles Leon, natural son of 334
Napoleon Buonaparte, and Captain De
Hesse, August 1833
—— The Duke De Rovigo and Count De 336
Langle, February 14, 1835
—— Mr. St. John and Count Catraffiana, 336
April 25, 1835
—— Captain White and Colonel Bellamy, 337
November 21, 1835
—— Brigadier-General Evans and Captain 338
Dickson, April 8, 1836
—— M. Armand Carrel and M. Émile De 339
Girardin, July, 1836
—— The Honourable Grantley Berkeley and 340
William Maginn, LL.D, August 4, 1836
—— Mr. Harring and a Polish officer, May 341
11, 1837
—— Mr. Anderson and Mr. Jones, August 342
1837
—— Mr. Cilley and Mr. Graves, November 343
1837
—— Sir John Milley Doyle and Dr. Lovell, 344
March 1838
—— Mr. Pigot and Mr. Carroll, April 27, 345
1838
—— Mr. Rushout and Mr. Borthwick, May 8, 346
1838
—— M. Calmel and M. Luard, May 1838 346
—— Lord Castlereagh and M. Gerard De 347
Melcy, June 16, 1838
—— Mr. Mirfin and Mr. Eliot, August 22, 349
1838
—— The Marquis of Londonderry and Mr. 355
Grattan, January 13, 1839
—— Lord Powerscourt and Mr. Roebuck, 357
February 28, 1839
—— Lord George Loftus and Lord Harley, 358
December 10, 1839
—— Lord William Paget and Mr. Fiske, 359
December 20, 1839
—— Mr. Wynn and Mr. Brown, In a 359
Stage-Coach, May 17, 1840
—— M. Throuet and M. Paulin Prué, June, 360
1840
—— Mr. Antonio Garbonia and Mr. Kechoff, 361
July 4, 1840
—— The Earl of Cardigan and Captain 361
Harvey Garnett Phipps Tuckett,
September 12, 1840
------------------------------------------------------------------------
HISTORY OF DUELLING.
-------
CHAPTER I
DUELS IN GREAT BRITAIN.
IN the beginning of this work an account has been given of various
traditional trials by combat and judicial ordeals, marked with a similar
character of brutality and superstition to that which distinguished
similar meetings in France and other countries; and it has also been
observed, that it appears evident that personal combats were brought
into vogue in England by the followers of William the Conqueror. But the
barbarous practice of trial by battle was modified in our island by
various circumstances, and was chiefly applied to three special
cases—The decision of causes in a military Court of Chivalry; Appeals of
felony; and civil cases upon issue joined in a writ of right. This last
ordeal, until the reign of Henry II, was the only mode of decision.
According to the maxim of the law of England, there is no rule more
distinctly stated than that slaying, in a deliberate duel, is wilful
murder; yet at all times considerable difficulties have arisen in this
admission and construction.
The word _murdrum_ appears to have been first used in the time of
Canute; and was, according to Relyng, a term or description of a
homicide committed in the worst manner. The presumption was, that the
victim was a _Dane_, and that he was killed secretly and treacherously.
If the murderer could not be found, the _ville_ or hundred was amerced,
and this fine was called _murdrum_. After the expulsion of the Danes,
this law became a dead letter, until revived after the Conquest by
William, when it was applied to the assassination of a Norman, or any
Frenchman. In the reign of Henry III, the term murder was applied to the
private slaying of any man, there being none present but those aiding in
the perpetration of the deed.
In the reign of Richard II, murder was killing by await, assault, or
malice prepense; but the distinction between murder and manslaughter was
not clearly defined until the reign of Henry VIII, when benefit of
clergy was taken away from the murderer. This distinction between murder
and justifiable homicide _se defendendo_, or homicide _per infortunium_,
was an important reform in our law, which at that period did not take
into consideration the frail condition of mankind, and the influence of
our passions, the more to be dreaded from the state of ignorance and
superstition in which the nation was plunged. By our old law, if a man
was killed in a quarrel, or in a sudden affray, it was equally
felonious.
Many jurisconsults endeavoured to bring slaying in a duel within the
class of murder, contrary to the general rule, that death ensuing in a
mutual combat is only manslaughter; because, they said, when parties
went out deliberately to fight with deadly weapons, there was
presumptive malice aforethought, omitting all notice of treachery;
which, in an ordinary duel, decided upon by seconds, appears to be the
only ground for presuming that felonious malice was contemplated. It is
evident that this distinction is one of the utmost importance. The
primary object of a murderer is to destroy his victim; with this
intention he attacks him, and although he may defend himself, yet the
assault is treacherous as with malice aforethought; whereas the primary
object of the duellist is to fight—the result of the meeting may be
fatal or not,—his second consideration is to preserve his own life, and
the third to put his adversary _hors de combat_.
Hawkins maintained that when divers rioters having forcibly taken
possession of a house, afterwards killed the person whom they had
ejected, as he was endeavouring in the night forcibly to regain
possession and to fire the house, they were to be adjudged guilty of
manslaughter only, _notwithstanding they did the fact in maintenance of
deliberate injury_; perhaps, for this reason, _because the person slain
was so much in fault himself_.
The same legal authority further says, “Some have gone so far as to hold
that the seconds of the person killed are also equally guilty, in
respect to that countenance which they gave to their principals in the
execution of their purpose, by accompanying them therein, and being
ready to bear a part with them:” but, perhaps, the contrary opinion is
the more plausible; for it seems too severe a construction to make a
man, by such reasoning, the murderer of his friend, to whom he was so
far from intending a mischief, that he was ready to hazard his own life
in his quarrel.
The highest authorities have strained the law to crush duelling without
the aid of the legislature, and Hawkins says, that “it seems agreed,
that whenever two persons in cold blood meet and fight on a precedent
quarrel, and one of them is killed, the other is guilty of murder, and
cannot help himself by alleging that he was first struck by the
deceased.” Sir Edward Coke, in the case of Thomas, makes the following
observation:—“As for direction to the jury, in cases of murder grounded
upon former malice, it is very clear, and so it is adjudged in Plowden’s
Commentaries, that if two men fall out, malice before is not anything
material for the jury to inquire, but the subsequent matter, who began
the affray; and if he be killed who offered the first wrong, yet it may
be murder in the other who killed him, and the subsequent beginning not
material.”
It would be foreign to the nature of this work to enter more fully into
the legal opinions entertained on this matter by the greatest
authorities, but many instances are upon record, in which, upon the
judge’s charge, the survivor in a duel has been found guilty of murder.
Such was the case of Morgan for the murder of Egerton; but he
subsequently was pardoned, and set at large.
In the case of Richard Taverner a verdict of guilty of wilful murder was
also found. The antagonist whom he had killed, was a man of the name of
Bird, whose second, Hughes, was also killed. But many cases are on
record, in which, notwithstanding the judge’s charge to the jury, a
verdict of manslaughter was found.
During the early periods of our history, many challenges were sent, and
combats have been prevented by regal and judicial interference. In the
reign of Edward III, 1361, Henry, Duke of Lancaster, was challenged by
the Duke of Brunswick to a combat before John, king of France, on
account of some insulting language which the Duke of Lancaster had made
use of. The challenge was accepted, and both parties appeared at the
appointed time and place. But after they had entered the lists, the King
of France interposed, and reconciled the parties. The field was in a
plain near the Abbey of St. Germain des Prés, and the Bishop of Paris,
Jean de Meulan, not to miss the sight, had slept at the Abbey the
preceding night.
In the reign of Richard II, Henry, Duke of Hereford, sent, by Thomas
Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, good advice and counsel to the King, which was
purposely misrepresented, and mixed with offensive words, of which the
Duke of Hereford being informed, he went to the King and explained the
message he had sent; but denied the false one delivered in his name, and
begged that he might combat the Duke of Norfolk, and maintain the truth.
Leave was granted, and time and place appointed; but when they appeared
and were ready to draw their swords, the King, who had submitted the
matter to Parliament, commanded them to forbear, banished the Duke of
Norfolk for ever, and his cousin of Hereford for a term of years: the
meeting took place in 1398, near Coventry.
In the reign of Edward III, a most singular meeting took place between
William Montacute, Earl of Salisbury, and Robert, Bishop of Salisbury,
for the right of the castle of Old Sarum. The Bishop had laid claim to
it, but the Earl declared himself ready to defend his possession by
duel, to which the prelate consented. The day and place were appointed,
when the parties were to fight by proxies. The Bishop brought to the
lists his champion, cloaked with a white garment down to the knee, above
which was a cassock embroidered with the episcopal arms, and with him a
knight carrying a shield and staff. The Earl also led his champion by
the hand into the lists, cloaked in the same manner, with two knights
attending him; but while they were viewing and comparing arms, and
searching whether any of them had amulets, charms, or enchantments about
them, an order came from the King to adjourn the combat, and the matter
was arranged.
From the commencement of the war of the roses, the trial by battle fell
into desuetude. One of the latest instances of this ordeal was in the
reign of Elizabeth, in 1571, when a suit having been instituted for
recovery of certain manorial rights in the isle of Hartie, Kent, the
defendant offered to maintain his claim by duel. The plaintiff accepted
the challenge, champions were appointed, and the requisite arrangements
made. On the day appointed, the judges, attended by the counsel of the
parties, repaired to the lists in Tothill-fields, as umpires of the
combat; but as the plaintiff did not make his appearance to acknowledge
his champion, he was nonsuited, or rather the suit was compounded—the
defendant remaining in possession by paying a stipulated sum to the
petitioners; but yet to save the credit of the defendant, who had
demanded the combat, all the ceremonials of time, place, and arms, were
adjusted.[1] Another instance occurred in the Court of Chivalry, in
1631: a trial by battle was also demanded in the palatine of Durham, in
1638. Of late years, it was only in 1818, that a similar demand was made
in the case of Thornton and Ashford, when this barbarous and
superstitious practice was finally abolished.
In 1542, Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, who had distinguished himself in
the jousts and tournaments on the marriage of Henry VIII. to Anne of
Cleves, was imprisoned in the Fleet, on the ground of a quarrel with a
private gentleman, and remained closely confined for several weeks,
until he was liberated on giving security to keep the peace in the then
enormous sum of ten thousand marks. He was not long out of durance,
being recommitted for having eaten meat in Lent, and broken the windows
of peaceable citizens by shots from his crossbow. The defence of this
unfortunate nobleman for the latter offence was rather curious, as he
maintained that he had broken their windows in the hope of correcting
the licentious and corrupt manner of these citizens, by impressing them
with an idea that such attacks, by means unheard and unseen, were
supernatural warnings from Providence of impending vengeance, a plea
which is now extant on the minutes of the Privy Council!
During the reign of James I. duels appear to have been more frequent,
and were resorted to, not only by the upper classes, but amongst the
lower orders. This appears from a speech of Bacon, when
attorney-general, in the case of a challenge brought before the Star
Chamber Court. Bacon therein attributes the frequency of the practice to
the rooted prejudice of the times, and hopes that the great would think
it time to leave off the custom, when they find it adopted by
barber-surgeons and butchers; and in one of his letters on the subject
to Lord Villiers, he expresses his determination not to make any
distinction between a coronet and a hatband in his efforts to repress
the practice. “I will prosecute,” he says, “if any man appoint the
field, though no fight takes place; if any man send a challenge in
writing or verbally; if any man accept a challenge, or consent to be a
second; if any man depart the realm in order to fight; if any man revive
a quarrel after the late proclamation.” It does not appear, however,
that this great man’s exertions were productive of much beneficial
result, as the monarch, in one of his proclamations, called these
combats “the bewitching duel.”[2]
The duel fought, and the challenge sent, by Lord Herbert of Cherbury,
and which we have elsewhere recorded, are striking illustrations of the
chivalric notion of the times; and the Quixotic language in which that
challenge was couched, was somewhat similar to that of the one sent by
Sir Henry Urton, our ambassador to the court of France, to the Duc de
Guise.
“Forasmuch as lately in the lodgings of the Lord Dumogre, and in public
elsewhere, impudently, indiscreetly, and overboldly, you spoke badly of
my sovereign, whose sacred person here in this country I represent, to
maintain, both by word and weapon, her honour (which was never called
into question among persons of honesty and virtue). I say you have
wickedly and maliciously lied, in speaking so basely of my sovereign,
and you shall do _nothing else but lie_ whenever you dare to tax her
honour. Moreover, that her sacred person (being one of the most complete
and virtuous princesses that lives in this world) ought not to be evil
spoken of by the vile tongue of such a perfidious traitor to her land
and country as you are, and therefore I do _defy you_, and challenge
your person to mine, with such manner of arms as you shall like or
choose, be it either on horseback or on foot; nor would I have you to
think any inequality of person between us, I being issued of as great a
race and noble a house as yourself, in assigning me an indifferent
place, I will there maintain my words, and the lie which I gave and give
you. If you consent not to meet me hereupon, I will hold you, and cause
you to be generally held, for the arrantest coward, and the most
slanderous slave, in all France. I expect your immediate answer.”
It appears that De Guise did not think it expedient to accept the
challenge.
The peace of the realm appears to have been frequently disturbed during
the reign of James by duels, in which many valuable lives were lost. The
death of Sir Hatton Cheek was one of these fatal occurrences. This
gallant officer was the second in command of the English army at the
siege of Juliers, in 1609, where a few hasty words addressed by him to
Sir Thomas Dutton, induced that officer, who was of an inferior rank, to
resign his commission and repair to England, where he endeavoured to
injure the character of Cheek by various unfavourable reports, and the
latter demanded a meeting at Calais. On their meeting on the sands,
Dutton began to reproach Cheek with the injuries he had received at his
hands, but Cheek insisted upon the immediate settlement of the business.
The seconds stripped both parties to their shirts, and they attacked
each other, each of them armed with a rapier and a dagger. In the first
onset Cheek ran Dutton through the throat with his dagger, close to the
windpipe; when Dutton made a pass at him and ran him through the body,
while he stabbed him in the back with his poniard. Although Cheek’s
wounds were mortal, he rushed upon his antagonist, who, observing that
he gradually drooped from loss of blood, merely kept on the defensive
till he fell dead at his feet.
James had to punish severely the Lord Sanquair, for having killed a
fencing-master in a duel: the riddance to society of a master of the art
of murder would have palliated the offence, but the unruly conduct of
the Scotch followers of Sanquair was so obnoxious and ungovernable, that
it was deemed necessary to inflict a punishment on their chief. This
case was a curious one: his lordship, who prided himself on his skill in
swordsmanship, had an assault with a fencing-master of the name of
Turner, who put out one of his eyes with his foil. Turner made every
possible excuse for the unfortunate occurrence, and Sanquair affected to
forgive him. Some years after he visited the court of Henri IV. of
France, when this prince asked him how he had lost his eye. Sanquair was
embarrassed by the question, and with some hesitation replied, “By a
sword wound.” The king immediately replied, “And does the man live?” An
expression which sunk deep into his mind, and from that moment he formed
the resolution to rid himself of the obnoxious cause of his misfortune
in any manner. On his return to England, disdaining to sacrifice his
victim with his own noble hands, he hired two ruffians who assassinated
Turner in his lodgings in Whitefriars. The murderers were taken, but
Sanquair had fled, and 1000_l_. reward was offered by proclamation for
his apprehension. Trusting to his sovereign’s partiality for the Scotch,
and having for a mediator at court the Archbishop of Canterbury, he
surrendered himself; but all intercession was vain. Bacon was ordered to
prosecute, and Sanquair and his accomplices were condemned, and he was
hanged on the 29th of June, 1612, in front of the entrance of
Westminster-hall.
In a MS. paper found in the library of Mr. Goodwin, author of the Life
of Henry VIII, the following account, signed by R. Deerhurst, of a
desperate duel fought by two noblemen of that period, was found:—
“HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF B—— TO THE LORD B——.
“The affront which you gave me at the imperial minister’s ball last
night, would argue me a person very unworthy of the character I bear, to
let it pass unregarded. To prove me that adventurous knight, which your
evasive expression would have given the noble Lady to understand, may
perhaps be the most acceptable means to reconcile your spleen; convince
me then that you are more of a gentleman than I have reason to believe,
by meeting me near the first tree behind the lodge in Hyde-park,
precisely at half an hour after five to-morrow morning; and that there
may be no pretension to delay, I have sent by the bearer of this two
swords, of which I give you the privilege to make a choice. I shall
approve of whatever terms of fighting you shall please to purpose. In
the interim I wish your Lordship a good rest.
“_Nine o’Clock._
B.”
“LORD B——’S ANSWER TO THE ABOVE.
“I received your Grace’s message, and accept the contents. It would give
me a sensible concern to be obliged to give up the pretension which your
Grace is doubtful of. It was from an oversight, I presume, that your
Grace gave me the privilege to choose my sword, except your Grace has
been so little used to this sort of ceremony as to have forgot that it
is the challenger’s choice. This, however, is but a trifle (if
anything). The terms I leave to our seconds, and will not fail to appear
at the time appointed, and in the interim I wish your Grace a very good
night.
“_Eleven o’Clock._
B.”
After my Lord B—— had answered his Grace’s letter, he visited several of
his friends, and was observed to be remarkably jocose at Lady
Nottingham’s, which occasioned a young lady, after his departure, to
remark that she fancied there was something very agreeable to his
lordship renewed again, relating to the Countess of E——, well knowing
his extraordinary passion for that lady. He told the messenger who
carried his letter to bring his Grace’s answer to General De Lee, his
second, with whom he remained that night in St. James’s-street.
About four in the morning his Lordship waked and got softly up, without
(as he thought) being observed; and dressing himself, buckled on his
sword, and fixing two agate flints in his pistols, charged them; but
recollecting that the Duke’s second would probably desire to see them
loaded, he drew the charge. By this time the General was awake; and
observing his Lordship taking a book out of his pocket, he thought it
improper to interrupt him. His Lordship then kneeled down at a small
jasper table, and seemed to pray with great devotion for a quarter of an
hour, often repeating, just loud enough to be heard, the errors of his
youthful days, and fervently supplicating the Almighty not to impute
them to him; after which he awoke the General, adding, that as the
morning was cold and rainy he did not wish to delay his Grace. By the
time they were accoutred, De Lee requested to view his Lordship’s sword,
when he examined the point and handle most cautiously, and then returned
it, adding, that he wished it was going to be employed in a cause more
serviceable to his country. His Lordship replied, that it could be
matter of little consequence, let the event be what it would. On their
departure the General desired to know if there was any thing he was
desirous to communicate, upon which he placed in his hand a letter
addressed to the Right Hon. the Countess of E——, desiring that he would
deliver it to her when alone, and not upon any consideration to put it
into another hand.
They arrived somewhat before the appointed time, and took several turns
from the tree to the lodge, his Lordship several times expressing
surprise at his Grace’s delay, though it was not more than two minutes
beyond it. His Grace then arrived, attended with one second only. He
bade his Lordship a good morning, and hoped he had not waited for him
long; then pulling out his watch, said that he had hit it to a point,
adding, that he would rather die than break his promise upon such an
occasion. His Lordship returned the expression, and said, that though
they had waited a little, there was sufficient time left to despatch the
business they were upon. To which his Grace replied, the sooner it is
despatched, the more leisure there will be behind. In the interim, the
seconds were pairing the swords, and each one loading his adversary’s
pistols. They then agreed to the following terms, viz.:—
1. That the distance of firing should not be less at each time than
seven yards and a half.
2. That if either should be dangerously wounded on the first discharge,
the duel should cease, if the wounded person would own that his life was
in the hands of his antagonist.
3. That between the firing and the drawing swords, there should be no
limited time, but each should endeavour to make the first thrust.
4. That if either should yield, as in the second article, during the
engagement with swords, whether by a wound, false step, or any other
circumstance, then the engagement should cease.
To which four articles both parties assented. His Grace stripped off his
coat, which was scarlet, trimmed with broad gold lace, when his
Lordship’s second stepped in to unbutton his Grace’s waistcoat, to see
justice done to the cause he had espoused; on which, with some
indignation, his Grace replied, “Do you take me to be a person of so
little honour!” The same ceremony was performed on his Lordship, who had
already pulled off his coat, which was crimson, with broad silver lace,
and both the combatants being ready, Lord B—— added, “Now, if it please
your Grace, come on.” His Grace fired and missed, but my Lord B——,
perhaps from more experience, and knowing that battles were seldom won
by hasty measures, deliberately levelled at him, and wounded his Grace
near the thumb. They both discharged again, when his Lordship received a
slight wound in his turn. On which they instantly drew their swords, and
impetuously charged each other, each of them seeming rather to meditate
the death of his adversary, than to regard his own safety. In the first
or second thrust Lord B—— entangled the toe of his pump in a tuft of
grass, and in evading a lounge from his antagonist, fell on his right
side, but supporting himself on his sword hand, by inconceivable
dexterity, he sprang backwards, and evaded the thrust apparently aimed
at his heart. A little pause intervening here, his Grace’s second
proposed to his Lordship a reconciliation; but the ardent thirst after
each other’s blood so overpowered the strongest arguments and reason,
that they insisted to execute each other forthwith, whatever might be
the consequence. Nay, the anger of his Grace was raised to such a pitch
of revenge, that he, in that irritated moment, swore if, for the future,
either of the seconds interposed, he would make his way through his
body. Then, after all remonstrance had proved ineffectual, they retired
to their limited distances, and perhaps one of the most extraordinary
duels ensued that the records of history can produce, fairly disputed
hand to hand. The parrying after this interval, brought on a close lock,
which, Monsieur Des Barreaux says, nothing but the key of the body can
open. In this position they stood, I dare say, a minute, striving to
disengage each other by repeated wrenches, in one of which his Grace’s
sword got caught in the guard of his Lordship, which circumstance his
Lordship overlooked, so that this advantage was recovered by his Grace
before the consequence which it might have brought on was executed. At
last, in a very strong wrench on both sides, their swords sprang from
their hands. I dare say his Lordship’s flew six or seven yards upright.
This accident, however, did not retard the affair a moment, but both
seizing their weapons at the same time, the duel was renewed with as
much malevolence as ever. By this time his Lordship had received a
thrust through the inner side of his sword arm, passing forward to the
exterior part of the elbow; his, at the same time, passing a little over
that of his antagonist; but, cleverly springing back, I think partly
before his Grace had recovered his push, he ran him through the body a
little above the right pap. His Lordship’s sword being thus engaged,
nothing was left for his defence but a naked left arm; and his Grace
being in this dangerous situation, yet had fair play at almost any part
of his Lordship’s body, who bravely put by several thrusts exactly
levelled at his throat, till at last, having two fingers cut off in
defending the pushes, and the rest mangled to a terrible degree, his
Grace lodged his sword one rib below the heart, and in this affecting
position they both stood without either being able to make another push.
Each of them by this time was in a manner covered with blood and gore,
when both the seconds stepped in and begged they would consider their
situation, and the good of their future state; yet neither would consent
to part, till, by the great loss of blood which his Lordship had
sustained, he fell down senseless, but in such a position that he drew
his sword out of his Grace’s body; recovering himself a little before he
was quite down, he faltered forward, and falling with his thigh across
his sword, snapped it in the middle. His Grace observing that he was no
longer capable of defence, or sensible of danger, immediately broke his
own sword, and fell on his body with the deepest sigh of concern, and
both expired before any assistance could be got, though Dr. Fountaine
had orders not to be out of the way that morning. Thus fell two gallant
men, whose personal bravery history can scarcely equal, and whose honour
nothing but such a cause could stain.
During the civil wars that brought Charles’s head to the block, duelling
became a very rare occurrence, and this circumstance is attributed to
the following causes by an ingenious writer on the subject:[3]—“These
civil wars were not of a nature calculated, like those of France, to
increase the rage of the duel, but rather to suspend the frequency of
its practice. As it was not a struggle (latterly, in particular) between
two powerful factions of the nobility and gentry one against the other,
but of the commonalty against whatever was called royal, noble, or
honourable in rank and fortune; the consequence was, that the gentry,
and those who had been accustomed to look to their own swords for
revenge in personal affronts, would have disdained to have settled
points of honour by private duel, with antagonists of such ignoble
birth. The general course of their thoughts being also bent on the
repulsion of the common enemy of the order of gentry, they became more
closely united within themselves, and were less in the habit of paying a
scrupulous attention to all the supercilious dictates of a captious
honour.”
During the Protectorate duels were unfrequent from causes somewhat
similar amongst the upper classes, while the lower orders were inspired
with a religious zeal and a fanatic enthusiasm, which would have induced
them to consider assassination scarcely a greater sin than a duel. Yet
we find that Cromwell, in 1654, passed an ordinance for punishing and
preventing duelling. In this enactment it was provided, that all persons
sending, carrying, or accepting a challenge, were to be imprisoned for
six months; and persons who were challenged, and who did not declare it
within twenty-four hours, were to be considered as acceptors. When death
ensued in a duel, it was to be considered murder; and persons using
provoking words or gestures, to be indicted, and, if convicted, to be
fined, bound to good behaviour, and to make reparation to the party
injured, according to the quality or the nature of the offence.
There was, however, a preparation for a purgation by single combat, in a
doubtful case, in the reign of Charles I, A.D. 1631. “The Lord Rea, a
Scotch Baron, impeached Ramsay and Meldrum for moving him to join a
conspiracy. They denied it positively, and no witness could be produced.
Ramsay, a soldier, offered to clear himself by combat that he was
innocent, and the appellant, Rea, accepted the challenge. The King was
desirous it should be put upon the duel, and the judges were consulted.
According to their advice there was a Court of the Constable and Marshal
appointed, and the Earl of Lindsey special constable for the purpose;
and the proceedings between Rea and Ramsay in that Court were very
solemn, multitudes of people attending the novelty. The business,
however, was afterwards made up by the King, through the Marquis
Hambleton, whose servant Ramsay was, and the Lord Rea returned to his
command under the King of Sweden in Germany.”[4]
It was under the reign of James that the celebrated duel between the
Earl of Dorset and Lord Bruce took place at Antwerp. Jealousy appears to
have been the cause of the difference that led to their fatal meeting.
The offence had been of long standing, but it was renewed at Canterbury,
when Lord Bruce gave the Earl “two or three good buffets in the face,”
Sackville being without a weapon, “having given his rapier instantly
before to the Palsgrave.” It appears, however, that on this occasion
“they were parted, and made friends by the noblemen that were present,”
and Lord Bruce went to France “to learn to fence.” A short time after
the parties met by appointment, and the Earl gives the following account
of the transaction:—
“As I am not ignorant, so I ought to be sensible of the false aspersions
some authorless tongues have laid upon me in the reports of the
unfortunate passage lately happened between the Lord Bruce and myself;
which, as they are spread here, so I may justly fear they reign also
where you are. There are but two ways to resolve doubts of this
nature—by oath, and by sword. The first is due to magistrates, and
communicable to friends; the other, to such as maliciously slander, and
impudently defend their assertions. Your love, not my merit, assures me
you hold me your friend, which esteem I am much desirous to retain. Do
me, therefore, the right to understand the truth of that act, and in my
behalf inform others, who either are or may be infected with sinister
rumours, much prejudicial to that fair opinion I desire to hold amongst
all worthy persons, and on the faith of a gentleman, the relation I
shall give is neither more nor less than the bare truth.
* * * * *
“To our seconds we gave power for their appointments, who agreed we
should go to Antwerp, from thence to Bergen-op-zoom, where, in the
midway, a village divides the States’ territory from the Archduke’s, and
there was the destined stage; to the end that, having ended, he that
could might presently exempt himself from the justice of the country, by
retiring into the dominion not offended. It was farther concluded, that
in case any should fall or slip, that then the combat should cease, and
he whose ill fortune had so subjected him was to acknowledge his life to
have been in the other’s hands; but in case one party’s sword should
break, because that could only chance by hazard, it was agreed that the
other should take no advantage, but either then be made friends, or
else, upon even terms, go to it again. These three conclusions being by
each of them related to his party, were by us both approved and assented
to. Accordingly we re-embarked for Antwerp, and by reason my Lord (as I
conceive, because he could not handsomely without danger of discovery)
had not paired the sword I sent him to Paris, bringing one of the same
length, but twice as broad, my second excepted against it, and advised
me to match my own, and send him the choice, which I obeyed, it being,
you know, the challenger’s privilege to elect his weapon.
“At the delivery of the swords, which was performed by Sir John Heidon,
it pleased the Lord Bruce to choose my own; and then, past expectation,
he told him that he found himself so far behind hand as a little of my
blood would not serve his turn, and therefore he was now resolved to
have me alone, because he knew (for I will use his own words) ‘that so
worthy a gentleman and my friend could not endure and stand by and see
him do that which he must to satisfy himself and his honour.’ Thereunto
Sir John Heidon replied, ‘that such intentions were bloody and
butcherly, far unfitting so noble a personage, who should desire to
bleed for reputation not for life;’ withal adding, ‘he thought himself
injured, being come thus far, now to be prohibited from executing those
honourable offices he came for.’ The Lord Bruce, for answer, only
reiterated his former resolution, the which, not for matter but for
manner, so moved me, as though, to my remembrance, I had not of a long
while eaten more liberally than at dinner, and therefore unfit for such
an action (seeing the surgeons hold a wound upon a full stomach much
more dangerous than otherwise), I requested my second to certify him I
would presently decide the difference, and should, therefore, meet him
on horseback, only waited on by our surgeons, they being unarmed.
“Together we rode (but one before the other some twelve score) about two
English miles, and then passion, having so weak an enemy to assail as my
direction, easily became victor, and using his power, made me obedient
to his commands. I being very mad with anger, the Lord Bruce should
thirst after my life with a kind of assuredness, seeing I had come so
far and needlessly to give him leave to regain his lost reputation, I
bade him alight, which with all willingness he quickly granted, and
there in a meadow, ankle-deep in the water, at least, bidding farewell
to our doublets, in our shirts we began to charge each other, having
afore commanded our surgeons to withdraw themselves a pretty distance
from us, conjuring them besides, as they respected our favour or their
own safeties, not to stir, but to suffer us to execute our pleasure, we
being fully resolved (God forgive us) to despatch each other by what
means we could.
“I made a thrust at my enemy, but was short, and in drawing back my arm
I received a great wound thereon, which I interpreted as a reward for my
short shooting; but in revenge, I pressed into him, though I then missed
him also; and then received a wound in my right pap, which passed level
through my body, and almost to my back. And there we wrestled for the
two greatest and dearest prizes we could ever expect trial for—honour
and life; in which struggling, my hand, having but an ordinary glove on
it, lost one of her servants, though the meanest, which hung by a skin,
and to sight yet remaineth as before, and I am put in hope one day to
recover the use of it again. But at last breathless, yet keeping our
holds, there past on both sides propositions of quitting each other’s
swords; but when amity was dead, confidence could not live, and who
should quit first was the question, which on neither part either would
perform; and restriving again afresh, with a kick and a wrench together
I freed my long-captive weapon, which incontinently levying at his
throat, being master still of his, I demanded if he would ask his life
or yield his sword? Both which, though in that imminent danger, he
bravely denied to do. Myself being wounded, and feeling loss of blood,
having three conduits running on me, began to make me faint, and he
courageously persisting not to accord to either of my propositions,
remembrance of his former bloody desire, and feeling of my present
estate, I struck at his heart, but with his avoiding, missed my aim, yet
passed through his body, and drawing back my sword, repassed it through
again, through another place, when he cried, ‘Oh! I am slain,’ seconding
his speech with all the force he had to cast me: but being too weak,
after I had defended his assault, I easily became master of him, laying
him on his back, when, being upon him, I redemanded if he would request
his life? But it seems he prized it not at so dear a rate to be
beholding for it, bravely replying he scorned it! which answer of his
was so noble and worthy, as I protest, I could not find in my heart to
offer him any more violence, only keeping him down; till at length, his
surgeon, afar off, cried out he would immediately die if his wounds were
not stopped: whereupon I asked if he desired his surgeon should come?
which he accepted of; and so, being drawn away, I never offered to take
his sword, accounting it inhumane to rob a dead man, for so I held him
to be.
“This thus ended, I retired to my surgeon, in whose arms after I had
remained awhile, for want of blood I lost my sight, and withal, as I
then thought, my life also; but strong water and his diligence, quickly
recovered me; when I escaped a great danger, for my Lord’s surgeon, when
nobody dreamt of it, came full at me with my Lord’s sword; and had not
mine, with my sword, interposed himself, I had been slain by those base
hands, although my Lord Bruce, weltering in his blood, and past all
expectation of life, conformable to all his former carriage, which was
undoubtedly noble, cried out ‘Rascal, hold thy hand!’ So may I prosper,
as I have dealt sincerely with you in this relation, which I pray you,
with the inclosed letters, deliver to my Lord Chamberlain.
ED. SACKVILLE.”
It does not appear that this fatal and barbarous affair led to any
proceedings against the Earl of Dorset, nor did it diminish his favour
at court.
After the desperate and fatal duel between Duke Hamilton and Lord Mohun,
a bill was brought into the House of Commons for the prevention of
duelling, but was lost after a second reading. The following is the
account that Swift gives of this meeting, in his letter to Mrs. Dingley,
but it must be borne in mind that political animosities, which ran very
high at this period, gave a peculiar acrimonious character to the
transaction, the causes of which have never been satisfactorily
explained:—
“Before this comes to your hands, you will have heard of the most
terrible accident that hath almost ever happened. This morning, at
eight, my man brought me word that Duke Hamilton had fought with Lord
Mohun, and had killed him, and was brought home wounded. I immediately
sent him to the Duke’s house to know if it was so, but the porter could
hardly answer his inquiries, and a great rabble was about the house. In
short, they fought at seven this morning. The dog Mohun was killed on
the spot, but while the Duke was over him, Mohun shortened his sword,
and stabbed him in the shoulder to the heart. The Duke was helped toward
the lake-house, by the ring, in Hyde-park (where they fought), and died
on the grass, before he could reach his house, and was brought home in
his coach by eight, while the poor Duchess was asleep. M’Carthy and one
Hamilton were the seconds, who fought likewise, and both are fled. I am
told that a footman of Lord Mohun’s stabbed Duke Hamilton, and some say
M’Carthy did so too. Mohun gave the affront, and yet sent the challenge.
I am infinitely concerned for the poor Duke, who was a frank, honest,
and good natured man. They carried the poor Duchess to a lodging in the
neighbourhood, where I have been with her two hours, and am just come
away. I never saw so melancholy a scene, for indeed all reasons for real
grief belong to her; nor is it possible for any one to be a greater
loser in all regards—she has moved my very soul. The lodging was
inconvenient, and they would have moved her to another, but I would not
suffer it, because it had no room backwards, and she must have been
tortured with the noise of the Grub-street screamers dinging her
husband’s murder in her ears.”
This duel must have been of the most murderous nature, from the number
of wounds that both parties received. The Duke of Hamilton had received
one on the right side of the leg, about seven inches long, another in
the right arm, the third in the upper part of the right breast, running
downwards towards the body, the fourth on the outside of the left leg.
Lord Mohun received a large wound in the groin, another in the right
side through the body and up to the hilt of the sword, and a third in
his arm.
In the Postboy, of the 20th November, the following particulars of this
field meeting were given:—“Major-General M’Carthy went three times to
the Duke, and was at the bagnio all night with Lord Mohun, who was
observed to be seized with fear and trembling at the time. The seconds
were Colonel Hamilton, of the Foot-guards, for the Duke, and M’Carthy
for Lord Mohun. It appears that the parties did not parry, but gave
thrusts at each other, and Lord Mohun shortening his sword stabbed the
Duke in the upper part of the left breast running downwards into the
body, which wound was fourteen inches long, and he expired soon after he
was put into the coach. A dispute at law had existed between the
parties, but without any personal quarrel of consequence.”
Swift, in his history of the four last years of Queen Anne, says, that
M’Carthy stabbed the Duke after he was wounded by Lord Mohun. He
afterwards escaped to Holland, but in June, 1716, was tried for murder
in the Court of King’s Bench, and found guilty of manslaughter. Swift
relates a curious anecdote of a gentleman, who being attacked by
highwaymen, told them that he was M’Carthy, upon which they brought him
before a justice in the hopes of receiving the reward for his
apprehension, when he gave the rogues in charge.
This Lord Mohun appears to have been an unprincipled character, whose
associates were in general as depraved and contemptible as himself. In
the year 1692, we find him tried for the murder of Montford the player,
an atrocious act, in which he was at any rate most deeply implicated.
It appeared in this trial that Lord Mohun, with a Captain Hall, had
formed a project forcibly to carry off Mrs. Bracegirdle, the actress, to
whom, or rather, to whose successful career on the stage this Hall
pretended to be attached. The worthy pair hired a coach to go to
Totteridge, directing the driver to have six horses in readiness, and to
be waiting, for them at Drury Lane, near the theatre, with only two
horses to the carriage, about nine o’clock at night. The party had dined
together at a tavern in Covent Garden, where Mrs. Bracegirdle became the
subject of their conversation; and both admitted their belief that she
was upon terms of more than common intimacy with Montford, a popular
performer at that period. They therefore formed a plan to carry her off
forcibly that very night into the country; for which purpose Hall had
secured the assistance of a party of soldiers belonging to his company.
In this conversation Hall told Lord Mohun, that unless they could be at
the theatre by 6 o’clock, their plan would fail. They accordingly
repaired to the playhouse, and went behind the scenes; where they were
much disappointed in being informed, that Mrs. Bracegirdle was not to
perform that night. Upon this intelligence they withdrew; but found,
upon further inquiry, that she was to sup at the house of a Mrs. Page,
of Drury Lane; and they therefore lay in wait for her near Lord Craven’s
house.
About 10 o’clock Mrs. Bracegirdle, accompanied by Mr. Page, her mother,
and her brother, were returning home towards Howard Street where she
lived, when these ruffians seized her, and, assisted by the soldiers,
endeavoured to force her into the carriage, while Captain Hall at the
same time strove to drive away Mr. Page; but Mrs. Bracegirdle’s mother
firmly grasped her, and struggled to protect her daughter. The uproar
had now become so great, the neighbourhood being alarmed by the women’s
shrieks, that several persons rushed to the rescue, the desperate
project was defeated, and the soldiers were dismissed by their
commander. Mrs. Bracegirdle and her party returned home; but Lord Mohun
and his companion watched near her house at the corner of Norfolk
Street, pacing up and down the flags with drawn swords, waiting for
Montford whom they expected to pass in that direction, on his way home.
Tired of thus standing sentry, these worthies, it appears, amused
themselves by drinking two bottles of wine in the street; some surly
watchmen, who observed their extraordinary conduct and their naked
swords, had the presumption to question them, upon which Lord Mohun told
the insolent guardians of the night that he was a peer of the realm, and
dared them to molest him: at the same time he condescended to inform
them, that his _friend’s_ sword was drawn in consequence of his having
lost his scabbard. The watch, therefore, very respectfully withdrew,
apologising for the breach of privilege, of which they had involuntarily
been guilty.
About 12 o’clock the unfortunate Montford, who was returning from the
theatre, fell in with this worthy couple. Lord Mohun, it appears,
approached him in a very cordial manner, and went so far as to embrace
him; when Montford asked him what he possibly could be doing in the
street at that advanced hour of the night. His lordship replied, “I
suppose you have heard of the lady?” To which Montford answered: “I hope
my wife (who was also a performer) has given your Lordship no
offence?”—“No,” said Lord Mohun, “it is Mrs. Bracegirdle I mean.” To
which Montford observed: “Mrs. Bracegirdle, my Lord, is no concern of
mine; but I hope your Lordship does not countenance the conduct of Mr.
Hall.”
Upon this, Captain Hall came forward; and exclaiming “This is not a time
to discuss such matters,” ran Montford through the body; although it was
asserted during the trial, that several passes had taken place between
the parties before the fatal wound had been inflicted. This
circumstance, however, was by no means clearly proved. A cry of murder
was raised, the watch rushed in; but the assassin had fled. Lord Mohun
surrendered himself, observing, that he hoped that Hall had made his
escape, as he was well satisfied to be hanged for him; and he further
avowed, that to facilitate his escape he had changed coats with him.
It appeared upon the trial, that Hall had expressed his wish to marry
Mrs. Bracegirdle, and conceived that the rivalry of Montford was the
only obstacle to the success of his suit; he repeatedly swore, that he
would get rid of him some way or other; and it was to effect this
purpose that he and Lord Mohun had exchanged coats and hats in the
scene-room of the theatre. That the assassination of their victim had
been coolly premeditated, there could not be the slightest doubt. Hall
had spoken to Mrs. Knight, of Drury Lane Theatre, telling her, that he
was certain that Mrs. Bracegirdle detested him in consequence of her
attachment to Montford, and at the same time requested her, as an
intimate friend of Mrs. Bracegirdle, to give her a letter. This proposal
Mrs. Knight very properly declined, observing, that she had already too
many enemies to increase their number. “What enemies?” replied Hall. “Do
you mean Montford? I shall find a way to rid you of _him_ speedily.
Subsequently, in the presence of a Mrs. Sandys, Hall had sworn that he
would stab Montford if he resisted; and at the same time Lord Mohun
declared that he would stand by him. Hall, it also appeared, had
borrowed a brace of pistols from a Captain Leister, to accomplish his
purpose. And further, when Hall seemed to doubt the resolution of his
lordship, and observed at the tavern, that he was ruined, unless Lord
Mohun attended at the theatre to assist him by 6 o’clock, Lord Mohun
replied, “Upon my soul and _honour_ I will be there!”
Notwithstanding this evidence, Lord Mohun was acquitted of the charge of
having been accessory to the murder. The only circumstance in his favour
was the question whether Hall had stabbed Montford when unprepared, or
whether the unfortunate man had defended himself. It was proved that his
sword had been broken. Howbeit, little doubt could exist as to the
culpability of Lord Mohun, in having coolly and deliberately planned the
act of violence against Mrs. Bracegirdle, with a determination to rid
themselves of her supposed paramour _any how_; and we cannot but marvel
at his peers allowing him to escape unpunished. It was the baseness and
profligacy of this man that confirmed the general belief that the Duke
of Hamilton had been foully murdered by M’Carthy, Mohun’s second and
friend, no doubt as worthy as his former companion Hall.
William Montford was an actor of considerable merit, and was also a
successful dramatic writer. He was only thirty-three years of age when
he met with this untimely end. Cibber speaks of him in the following
terms:—“He was tall in person, well made, fair, and of an agreeable
aspect. His voice full, clear, and melodious. In tragedy, he was the
most affecting lover within my memory. His addresses had a resistless
recommendation, from the very tone of his voice, which gave his words
such softness that, as Dryden says,
Like flocks of feather’d snow,
They melted as they fell!
It was to be expected, that such worthless ruffians as Mohun and Hall
should have been anxious to remove the rivalry of a person so likely to
please Mrs. Bracegirdle, although the intimacy between her and Montford
was such, as to leave those acquainted with the parties firmly convinced
that no improper intercourse existed between them. From her walk in the
drama, they constantly performed together, and a strict intimacy had not
only arisen between them, but between Mrs. Bracegirdle and Mrs.
Montford.
In 1662 a meeting took place between Mr. Jermyn, nephew to the Earl of
St. Alban’s, and afterwards himself Lord Jermyn, and Colonel Giles
Rawlins on the one side; and Captain Thomas Howard, brother to Lord
Carlisle, and a friend on the other. Mr. Jermyn was severely wounded,
and his second killed. They fought in the old Pall Mall, St. James’s.
Mr. Jermyn, the challenged party, was entirely ignorant of the nature of
the offence he had given, nor could he induce his antagonist to inform
him. Captain Howard was supposed to have worn a coat of mail under his
dress.
The records of Parliament notice a challenge sent to Lord Chancellor
Clarendon by Lord Ossory, son of the Duke of Ormond, for injurious words
made use of in the House of Lords, on the debate upon a bill for
prohibiting the importation of Irish cattle into England. The Chancellor
submitted the message to the House. This bill was intended to protect
English agriculture and the landed interest, and was chiefly supported
by Buckingham, Ashley, and Lauderdale; and in its provisions its framers
appeared to have lost sight of the fact, that if the Irish were deprived
of the means of selling their principal commodities, it was not in their
power to apply the produce of the sale to the purchase of English goods.
Buckingham supported it with all his powers; and indulging both in his
national animosity towards Ireland and his present enmity to the Duke of
Ormond, maintained with much vehemence, that no one could oppose it who
had not an Irish interest and an Irish intellect. Lord Ossory
immediately sent him a challenge, which Buckingham evaded, on the
pretext that he had mistaken the place and hour of the rendezvous,
during which time his opponent was apprehended.
This Bill led to much violent recrimination, and also to personal
conflict, Buckingham having had a scuffle with the Marquis of
Dorchester, who tore off a handful of his hair, while the Duke pulled
off his periwig.
Pepys, in his notes, alludes to the sad prevalence of duels about this
period, which he states to be “a kind of emblem of the general
complexion of the whole kingdom” at the time; and he relates, in the
following terms, the meeting that took place between Sir H. Bellasses
and Mr. Porter in 1667:—“They two dined yesterday at Sir Robert Carr’s,
where, it seems, people do drink high, all that come. It happened that
these two, the greatest friends in the world, were talking together, and
Sir H. Bellasses talked a little louder than ordinary to Tom Porter,
giving him some advice. Some of the company standing by said, ‘What! are
they quarrelling, that they talk so high?’ Sir H. Bellasses hearing it,
said, ‘No, I would have you know, I never quarrel, but I strike; take
that as a rule of mine!’—‘How?’ said Tom Porter, ‘strike! I would I
could see the man in England that durst give me a blow?’ With that Sir
H. Bellasses did give him a box on the ear; and so they were going out
to fight, but were hindered. And by and by Tom Porter went out; and
meeting Dryden the poet, told him of the business, and that he was
resolved to fight Sir H. Bellasses presently, for he knew, if he did
not, they would be friends to-morrow, and then the blow would rest upon
him; and he desires Dryden to let him have his boy to bring him notice
which way Sir H. Bellasses goes. By and by he is informed, that Sir H.
Bellasses’s coach was coming; so Tom Porter went down out of the
coffee-room, where he stayed for the tidings, and stopped the coach, and
bade Sir H. Bellasses come out. ‘Why,’ said Sir H. Bellasses, “you will
not hurt me coming out, will you?’—‘No,’ says Tom Porter. So out he
went, and both drew. And Sir H. Bellasses having drawn and flung away
the scabbard, Tom Porter asked him, whether he was ready. The other
answered, he was; and they fell to fight, some of their acquaintances
by. They wounded one another; and Sir H. Bellasses so much, that it is
feared he will die. And finding himself severely wounded, he called to
Tom Porter, and kissed him, and bade him shift for himself; ‘for,’ says
he, ‘Tom, thou hast hurt me; but I will make shift to stand on my legs
till thou mayest withdraw, and the world not take notice of thee; for I
would not have thee troubled for what thou hast done.’ And so, whether
he did fly or not, I cannot tell; but Tom Porter showed Sir H. Bellasses
that he was wounded too; and they are both ill, but Sir H. Bellasses to
the life. And this is fine example! and Sir H. Bellasses a parliament
man too; and both of them extraordinary friends” Bellasses only lived a
few days, and Pepys, in noticing his death, adds: “It is pretty to see
how the world talk of them, as a couple of fools, that killed one
another out of love.” This deed took place in Covent Garden.
About the same period a duel took place between the Earl of Shrewsbury
and the Duke of Buckingham. The latter, it appears, had debauched Lady
Shrewsbury, the daughter of the Earl of Cardigan, and was challenged by
her husband. The King, who had been apprised of the intended meeting,
commanded the Duke of Albemarle to secure Buckingham, and confine him to
his house. Albemarle, by all accounts, wilfully neglected the royal
command; and the meeting took place. The Duke was attended by Captain
Holman and Sir J. Jenkins; and Lord Shrewsbury was accompanied by Sir J.
Talbot, a gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and Lord Bernard Howard, son
of the Earl of Arundel. The parties met at Barnes Elms. According to the
custom of the day, the seconds also engaged each other. The combat on
both sides was long and desperate. Buckingham ran Lord Shrewsbury
through the body; Sir John Talbot was severely wounded in both arms, and
Jenkins was left dead on the field. Buckingham and the other seconds
were only slightly wounded. It was reported, that during this murderous
conflict Lady Shrewsbury, in a page’s attire, was holding Buckingham’s
horse in a neighbouring thicket, to facilitate his escape in the event
of his having killed her husband. Such a circumstance is very possible,
as showing the profligacy of the times, since it was reported, and
generally believed, that Lady Shrewsbury had not only been most anxious
that the meeting should take place, but actually slept the same night
with her paramour in the very shirt stained with the blood from the
wound he had received as her champion.
The King, by proclamation, pardoned all parties concerned in the death
of Sir J. Jenkins, but declared his determination not to extend his
gracious mercy to future offenders. After this duel Buckingham,
patronised by Lady Castlemaine, openly took Lady Shrewsbury to live with
him in his own house; and when the Duchess ventured to expostulate on
such a line of conduct, adding, that it was out of the question that she
and his mistress should live under the same roof, he quietly replied,
“That is also my opinion, madam, and I have therefore ordered your coach
to carry you to your father.” Buckingham and Lady Shrewsbury afterwards
lived together at Clifden.
Clifden’s proud alcove,
The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love.
After the death of the Earl of Shrewsbury this worthy pair dissipated
the estate of the young earl; when the matter was brought before the
House of Lords, and an award was made that the Duke should not converse
or cohabit with the Countess in future, and that each should enter into
a security to the King’s Majesty in the sum of 10,000_l._ for that
purpose.
Sir William Coventry, a commissioner of the treasury, having been
obliged by the vexation he had experienced from Buckingham, to resign
his office, sent him a challenge, which was carried by Captain Holmes,
one of the favourite’s creatures, to the King, who immediately committed
Coventry to the Tower.
The following anecdote fully illustrates the profligacy and venality of
that period:—
“Gondemar was at this period one of the most dissolute and fashionable
characters. He was then Spanish ambassador at our Court, and lived at
Ely House, in Holborn, and his passage to Court was ordinarily through
Drury-lane, Covent-garden being then an inclosed field. His gallantry
was so renowned and sought for, that it is stated as he passed by,
ladies would show themselves at their balconies to “present him their
civilities” as he was carried in a litter, his infirmities being such
that he could neither walk nor ride. One day passing by the Lady Jacob’s
house in Drury Lane, she exposed herself for a salutation; he was not
wanting to her, but she, moving nothing but her mouth, gaped wide open
upon him. He wondered at the Lady’s incivility, but thought it might be
haply a yawning fit that took her at that time; for trial whereof, the
next day he finds her in the same place; his courtesies were again
accosted with no better expression than an extended mouth. Whereupon he
sent a gentleman to her, to let her know that the ladies of England were
more gracious to him than to encounter his respects with such affront.
She answered that it was true that he had purchased some of their
favours at a dear rate, and she had a mouth to be stopped as well as
others! Gondemar finding the cause of the emotion of her mouth, sent her
a present as an antidote, which cured her of the distemper.”
Buckingham’s marriage was an act of reparation of his profligacy. He had
seduced the only daughter of the Earl of Rutland, and carried her to his
lodgings at Whitehall. After having kept her there for some time he
returned her to her father, who intimated to the royal favourite, “that
he had too much of the gentleman to suffer such an indignity, and if he
did not marry his daughter immediately, to restore her honour, no power
should protect him from his just revenge.” She was heiress to a
considerable fortune, and Buckingham complied with the Earl’s
injunction.
In 1661, a quarrel arose in London between several ambassadors, which
proved likely to lead to serious consequences. Philip IV. of Spain had
sent the Baron de Batteville to London, where the Comte d’Estrade was
ambassador for France. The Comte de Brabe, the Swedish ambassador, had
made his first entry in town, when a dispute arose amongst these
ministers regarding precedence, each being anxious to take the lead of
the other. The Baron de Batteville had cut the traces of the carriage of
the French ambassador, and when the domestics of the latter sought to
retaliate, they found that chains had been used instead of ordinary
traces. The King of France recalled his minister, and the Spanish
monarch sent the Comte de Fuentes to Paris to apologize for the conduct
of his ambassador. A duel had been expected, as the Comte d’Estrade had
been engaged in the hostile meeting between the Duc de Guise and the
Comte de Coligny, and was considered a very punctilious person in such
matters; but the parties very wisely had referred the affair to their
respective courts.
At this period the pit of the theatre became the constant _arena_ of
quarrels that led to duels. The young bloods of the day made it a point
to go to the playhouse, for the mere purpose of insulting females, and
getting themselves involved in disputes that might increase their
fashionable popularity. In 1720, Mrs. Oldfield, a celebrated actress,
was performing in “The Scornful Lady,” when Beau Fielding (the Orlando
the Fair of the Tatler) insulted a barrister of the name of Fulwood, by
pushing rudely against him. Fulwood expostulated with some degree of
violence, upon which Fielding laid his hand upon his sword. The
pugnacious lawyer drew, and gave his antagonist a severe wound in the
body. Beau Fielding, who was then a man of above fifty years of age,
came forward, and uncovering his breast, showed his bleeding wound to
the public, to excite the compassion of the fair sex; but, to his no
small disappointment, a burst of laughter broke forth from the audience.
Fulwood, emboldened by his success with Fielding, repaired to
Lincoln’s-inn-fields Theatre, where he picked up another quarrel with a
Captain Cusack, and then demanded satisfaction. They went into the
fields, and the lawyer was professionally despatched by the soldier, and
left dead on the ground.
Ball-rooms, masquerades, theatres, the open streets, the public walks,
bagnios, and coffee-houses, now became constant scenes of strife and
bloodshed; Covent-garden and Lincoln’s-inn-fields became the rendezvous
for deciding points of honour; and at all hours of the night the
clashing of swords might be heard by the peaceable citizens returning
home, at the risk of being insulted and ill treated by the pretty
fellows, and the beaux of the day. The system of duelling pervaded all
classes, and even physicians were wont to decide their professional
altercations at the point of the sword. Doctors Mead and Woodward fought
under the gate of Gresham College; the latter slipped his foot and fell.
“Take your life,” exclaimed Dr. Mead. “Any thing but your physic,”
replied the prostrate Woodward.
Dr. Williams and Dr. Bennet, who had grossly abused each other in print
on matters relating to their profession, had recourse to blows, when Dr.
Bennet proposed a meeting to decide the business like gentlemen. This
proposal being rejected by Dr. Williams, Dr. Bennet went the next
morning to his house, and rapped at his door; Williams, on opening it,
discharged a pistol, loaded with swan-shot, in the other’s breast. The
wounded doctor retired across the way towards a friend’s house, being
pursued by Williams, who, very near the door, fired a second pistol at
him, and, whilst Bennet was endeavouring to draw his sword, which had
been pacifically adhering fast to the scabbard, Williams ran him through
the body. Bennet, although in this dismal condition, was able to draw
his rapier; and praying to God to invigorate him to avenge his wrongs,
he gave Williams a home thrust, which entered the upper part of his
breast and came out at the shoulder blade, the sword snapping and part
of it remaining in the wound. Williams in retreating to his house fell
down dead, and Bennet lived but four hours after.
In the same year a duel was fought at Kinsale, in Ireland, which
originated from Ensign Sawyer, of O’Farrell’s regiment, having beaten
the servant of an officer of the same corps, for giving a slighting
answer to his wife. His master, Captain Wrey, had permitted his servant
to obtain a warrant for the assault, which the Ensign hearing of, before
he could be served with it, challenged the Captain to fight him on the
spot. The Captain, after having in vain remonstrated with him upon the
impropriety of his conduct, accompanied him to some distance out of
town, to gain some time for persuasion; when the Ensign on a sudden drew
his sword, and at the first onset wounded the Captain in the left
breast; at the second pass, in the left arm, but on the third lounge the
Captain ran him through the body, by which he expired in two hours,
first owning himself the aggressor, and giving the Captain a kiss as a
last farewell.
A fatal duel took place the same year between a Mr. Paul and a Mr.
Dalton. They had passed the evening together in the company of some
ladies, to one of whom Mr. Dalton was on the point of being married. A
quarrel arose, and they parted in anger, especially Mr. Paul, who
immediately after went to Mr. Dalton’s lodgings, and not finding him at
home, sent a message to him at a tavern, where he understood he was
spending the evening. Mr. Dalton, upon reading it, hastened home, and in
a few minutes after entered the room where Mr. Paul was waiting for him.
The servant, soon after hearing a noise like fencing, ran up stairs; but
before he could enter the room, heard the street-door shut; the candles
were out, and Mr. Paul had fled. He found his master expiring, having a
wound in the upper part of his left breast. Upon this occasion the
coroner’s jury returned a verdict of wilful murder. Mr. Paul never
submitted to his trial, and was outlawed.
While personal meetings were then frequent, and often carried on in the
most dishonourable manner, general frays were not uncommon. In 1717,
after a levee, a large party of gentlemen were assembled at the Royal
Chocolate-house, in St. James’s-street. Disputes at hazard produced a
quarrel, which became general throughout the room; a _mêlée_ ensued, and
as they all fought with swords, three of the party were mortally
wounded. The affray was only terminated by the interference of a party
of the Guards; who, as entreaties and commands were of no avail, knocked
the most pugnacious of the combatants down with the but-end of their
muskets. A footman of one of the party (a Colonel Cunningham), who was
greatly attached to his master, rushed through the drawn swords; and
seizing him round the waist, actually carried him away.
In 1720, at twelve at night, about one hundred _gentlemen_ were engaged
in a riot in Windmill-street with swords and canes, when several of the
party were desperately wounded. The watchmen sought to interfere, but
were knocked down and barbarously ill-treated. At last a patrole of
Horse Guards came up; and finding the rioters obstinate, rode through
them, cutting at them with their swords. Some were killed, and several
of them were so desperately wounded that fears of their recovery were
entertained. The quarrel had begun between two chairmen. Such was the
state of society in London, and of its police, at that period.
A week after this outrageous breach of the peace, a Captain Fitzgerald,
and three young men, met a lady in the Strand, returning from St.
James’s in a sedan-chair. They stopped the chairmen, and brutally
attempted to force the lady out. The chairmen opposed them; then they
drew their swords, and demolished the vehicle. The watchmen interfered,
and one of them was run through the body, and immediately expired.
Clubs were formed of those desperadoes, who assumed the name of the
“_Bold Bucks_,” and the “_Hell-fires_.” “_Blind and Bold Love_” was the
motto of the former association, the members of which, according to a
contemporary writer, “attempt females of their own species
promiscuously. Their own sisters fear their violence, and fly their
privacies.” Atheism was an indispensable qualification for admission
into their society, and their favourite dish for supper, at the taverns
they haunted, was called “_A Holy Ghost Pie_;” but their chief house of
_rendezvous_ was a tavern near Somerset House, where they usually
assembled during Divine service with a loud band of music.
Their excesses became so notorious, and proved such a public grievance,
that in 1721, a Royal proclamation was issued to suppress those clubs,
and about the same time a check was put to duelling by the sentence of
death passed on a Major Oneby, who thought it advisable to baulk the
executioner and the public curiosity by committing suicide.
The following are the particulars of this very important case:—Major
Oneby was indicted in the year 1726, for the murder of Mr. Gower, and a
special verdict was found, stating that the prisoner being in company
with the deceased, and three other persons, at a tavern, in a friendly
manner, after some time began playing at hazard; when _Rich_, one of the
company, asked if any one would set him three half crowns; whereupon the
deceased, in a jocular manner, laid down three halfpence, telling Rich
he had set him three pieces, and the prisoner at the same time set Rich
three half crowns, and lost them to him. Immediately after which, the
prisoner, in an angry manner, turned about to the deceased and said, “It
was an impertinent thing to set down halfpence, and that he was an
impertinent puppy for so doing;” to which the deceased answered,
“whoever called him so was a rascal.” Thereupon the prisoner took up a
bottle, and with great force threw it at the deceased’s head, but did
not hit him, the bottle only brushing some of the powder out of his
hair. The deceased, in return, immediately tossed a candlestick or
bottle at the prisoner, which missed him; upon which they both rose up
to fetch their swords, which were then hung up in the room, and the
deceased drew his sword, but the prisoner was prevented drawing his by
the company; the deceased thereupon threw away his sword, and the
company interposing, they sat down again for the space of an hour.
At the expiration of that time, the deceased said to the prisoner, “We
have had hot words, and you were the aggressor, but I think we may pass
it over,” at the same time offering his hand to the prisoner, who made
for answer, “No, d—n you, _I will have your blood_.”
After which, the reckoning being paid, all the company, with the
exception of the prisoner, went out of the room to go home, and he
called to the deceased, saying, “Young man, come back, I have something
to say to you.” Whereupon the deceased returned into the room, and
immediately the door was closed, and the rest of the company excluded;
but they heard a clashing of swords, and the prisoner gave the deceased
his mortal wound. It was also found that, on the breaking up of the
company, the prisoner had his great coat thrown over his shoulders, and
that he received three slight wounds in the fight; and that the deceased
being asked upon his death-bed whether he had received his wounds in a
manner amongst swordsmen called fair, answered “I think I did.” It was
further found that after the throwing of the bottle, there was no
reconciliation between the prisoner and the deceased.
Upon these facts all the judges were of opinion that the prisoner was
guilty of murder; he having acted upon malice and deliberation, and not
from sudden passion. The argument of the Chief Justice went to show,
that after the door had been shut the parties were upon an equal footing
in point of preparation before the fight began, in which the mortal
wound was given. The main point then, on which the judgment turned, and
so declared to be, was the evidence of _express malice_, after the
interposition of the company, _and the parties had all sat down again
for an hour_. Under these circumstances the Court were of opinion that
the prisoner had had _reasonable time for cooling_; after which, upon an
offer of reconciliation from the deceased, he had made use of that
bitter and deliberate expression, “_That he would have his blood_;” and
again, the prisoner remaining in the room after the rest of the company
had retired, and calling back the deceased by the contemptuous
appellation of “_young man_,” on pretence of having something to say to
him, altogether showed such strong proof of deliberation and coolness,
as precluded the presumption of passion having continued down to the
time of the mortal stroke, and that there was no doubt but that he had
compelled Gower to defend himself.
It was also about this period that Addison and Steele, in the Spectator
and the Tatler, endeavoured to draw public attention to this subject,
and used both the power of persuasion and raillery to discountenance the
disgraceful practice. In No. 84 of the Spectator, Steele wrote an essay
against duelling, and in the character of Spinamont he alluded to a
meeting that had taken place between Sir Cholmondeley Dering and Mr.
Thornhill, when the former was killed. Thornhill was acquitted of the
charge of murder; but two months after, he was stabbed by two men on
Turnham-green, who exclaimed as they struck him, “_Remember Sir
Cholmondeley Dering_.”
In the 9th number of the Spectator, Addison commences his remarks on
duelling by describing the “Hum-Drum and Mum Clubs,” and adds, “I cannot
forbear mentioning a mischievous one that was erected in the reign of
Charles II, I mean the club of duellists, in which none was to be
admitted that had not fought his man. The president of it was said to
have killed half a dozen in single combat; and as for the other members
they took their seats according to the number of their slain. There was
likewise a side-table for such as had only drawn blood, and shown a
laudable ambition of taking the first opportunity to qualify themselves
for the first table. This club, which consisted only of men of _honour_,
did not continue long, most of the members being put to the sword, or
hanged, a little after the institution.”
In a paper, No. 99, Addison relates the following anecdote:—“An English
peer[5] used to tell a pleasant story of a French gentleman who visited
him very early one morning; and after great professions of respect, let
him know that he had it in his power to oblige him, which in short
amounted to this, that he believed he could tell his Lordship the
person’s name who had jostled him as he came out of the Opera; but
before he would proceed, he begged his Lordship that he would not deny
him the honour of making him his second. The English Lord, to avoid
being drawn into a very foolish affair, told him he was under particular
engagements for his two next duels, to a couple of particular friends.
Upon which the gentleman immediately withdrew, hoping his Lordship would
not take it ill if he meddled no further in an affair from whence he
himself was to reap no advantage.”
Steele himself, notwithstanding his efforts to discountenance duelling,
was drawn into a quarrel that very nearly proved fatal. At that period
he was an officer in the Coldstream Guards, when a brother officer
communicated to him his intention of calling out a person who had
offended him, but was dissuaded from this purpose by the powerful
arguments of Steele. Some of the other officers of the regiment thought
proper to spread a report that Steele had thus interfered in the affair
to skreen the offender from a merited chastisement, thus compromising
the honour of the person whom he had offended. A challenge was therefore
sent to Steele. He sought in vain to avoid the meeting, but at last
consented. Relying on his skill in swordsmanship, he felt persuaded that
he could chastise the aggressor without endangering his life. The
parties met, and Steele’s buckle breaking as he was tightening his shoe,
he urged this accident to induce the challenger to desist, but to no
purpose. Swords were crossed, Steele parried several lounges, till at
last, in an attempt to disarm his antagonist, he ran him through the
body. After lingering some time in a hopeless state, Steele was
delighted to hear of his recovery.
Notwithstanding the vogue of duelling, in many instances, as in the case
of Steele, persons who were challenged endeavoured to decline a meeting,
and the following letter from an officer of the Guards to a gentleman
who had called him out, is an illustration of the light in which private
combat was even then viewed by men of real honour:—
“Sir,—I reckon it my peculiar happiness that I can produce the officers
and soldiers who witnessed my behaviour at Fontenoy, as evidence of my
courage. You may endeavour, if you please, to propagate my refusing your
challenge, and brand me with cowardice; but I am fully convinced that
nobody will believe me guilty, and every one will see that you are
malicious. The cause in which we quarrelled was a trifle: the blood of a
soldier should be reserved for nobler purposes. Love is blind,
resentment mean, and taste capricious; and it ought to be considered
that murder, though palliated by a false show of honour, is murder
still, and calls for vengeance.”
During the administration of Sir Robert Walpole the practice of duelling
was most fashionable, and of course frequently resorted to. In the
following letter to Mann, we find an illustration of the manners of the
day (1750).
“About ten days ago, at the new Lady Cobham’s assembly, Lord Hervey was
leaning over a chair talking to some women, and holding his hat in his
hand; Lord Cobham came up and spit in it—yes, spit in it—and then, with
a loud laugh, turned to Nugent, and said ‘Pay me my wager.’ In short, he
had laid a guinea that he committed this absurd brutality, and that it
was not resented. Lord Hervey, with great temper and sense, asked if he
had any further occasion for his hat. ‘Oh, I see you are angry.’ ‘Not
very well pleased.’ Lord Cobham took the fatal hat and wiped it, and
made a thousand foolish apologies, and wanted to pass it off as a joke.
Next morning he rose with the sun, and went to visit Lord Hervey: he
would not see him, but wrote to the _spitter_ (or, as he is now called.
_Lord Gob’em_), to say that he had grossly insulted him before company,
but having involved Nugent in it, he desired to know to which he was to
address himself for satisfaction. Lord Cobham made a most submissive
answer, and begged pardon both in his own and Nugent’s name. Here it
rested for a few days, till, the matter getting wind, Lord Hervey wrote
again to insist upon an explicit apology under Lord Cobham’s own hand,
with a rehearsal of the excuses that had been made to him. This too was
complied with, and the _fair conqueror_ showed all the letters. Nugent’s
disgraces have not ended here. The night of his having declaimed so
furiously against Lord Sandwich, he was standing by Lady Catherine
Pelham at the masquerade, without his mask. She was telling him some
history of a mad dog (which I believe she had bit herself). Young
Leveson, the Duchess of Bedford’s brother, came up, without his mask
too, and looking at Nugent, said, ‘I have seen a mad dog to-day, and a
silly dog too.’ ‘I suppose, Mr. Leveson, you have been looking in the
glass.’ ‘No, I see him now.’ Upon which they walked off together, but
were prevented from fighting (if Nugent would have fought), and were
reconciled at the sideboard. The former circumstance gave rise to a
vulgar, but for a time, a fashionable saw, ‘We spit in his hat on
Thursday, and wipe it off on Friday.’”
Walpole calls Lord Hervey “The fair conqueror,” from his great
effeminacy, which induced Lord Cobham, better known as Earl Temple, to
insult him in so gross a manner.
As the fashion of wearing swords gradually fell into desuetude, pistols
were brought into play, and the fatal duel between Lord Byron and Mr.
Chaworth was one of the last that took place with side-arms.
DUEL OF LORD BYRON AND MR. CHAWORTH, 1765.
On the 26th of January, 1765, Lord Byron and several other gentlemen
dined together at the Star and Garter Tavern in Pall-mall. The party
were chiefly from the county of Nottingham, assembled in a club, about
seven in the evening. The conversation turned upon the subject of game;
upon this occasion Mr. Chaworth had a warm argument with a gentleman
seated next to him about the best manner of preserving game. Lord Byron
joined the conversation, and gave as his opinion, that the best method
was to take no care of it. Mr. Chaworth differed in opinion, and thought
it more advisable to be strict with poachers. This drew on an
altercation. Mr. Chaworth asserted that there was not a hare in that
part of the county which was not preserved by him, or by Sir Charles
Sedley. Upon which Lord Byron offered a bet of 100_l._ that he had more
game on a manor or manors of his, than Mr. Chaworth had on any belonging
to him. Mr. Chaworth accepted the wager, and made a memorandum of it.
Lord Byron then observed, with some degree of warmth, and in a sarcastic
manner, “Sir Charles Sedley’s manors! where are his manors!” To which
Mr. Chaworth replied, with equal heat, “The manors of Hucknel and
Nuttall.” To which Lord Byron replied, “I know no manors of Sir Charles
Sedley.” Mr. Chaworth then observed that the manor of Nuttall was his,
and that he had purchased it from his (Chaworth’s) family, and added,
“If your Lordship wants any further information about his manors, Sir
Charles Sedley lives in Dean-street, and your Lordship knows where to
find me in Berkley-square.”
After this altercation the party remained together for about an hour in
apparent good humour, and the conversation turned on various subjects.
About eight o’clock Mr. Chaworth left the room, and asked a gentleman of
the name of Douston, who was quitting it at the same time, whether he
had observed the dispute between him and Lord Byron. This person
replied, that he had heard part of it. On which Chaworth asked him if he
thought he had gone far enough; to which Mr. D. replied that he thought
he had gone too far, that it was altogether a silly business, and
neither of them should think any more about it.
Shortly after Lord Byron left the room also, and met Mr. Chaworth, when
he stated that he wished to speak with him. He then called a waiter, and
asked if there were any room disengaged. The waiter then showed them to
an unoccupied room, and went in with a candle, which was all the light,
except a dull fire, that was in the apartment. Lord Byron asked Mr.
Chaworth whether it was to him or to Sir Charles Sedley, that he was to
have recourse on the disputed subject. Mr. Chaworth then replied that it
was to him, and that if he had any thing further to say in the matter it
might be advisable to shut the door, which he immediately did; when
turning round, he perceived Lord Byron with his sword half drawn, who
instantly exclaimed, “Draw!” Mr. Chaworth immediately complied, and at
the first thrust his sword passed through Lord Byron’s waistcoat, and he
thought he had wounded him, when Lord Byron shortened his sword, and
gave him the fatal wound, observing at the same time that he had as much
courage as any man in England. A struggle then took place between the
parties, for when the waiter and the landlord entered the room they were
grasped in each others arms, Mr. Chaworth holding his sword in his left
hand, and Lord Byron having his in his right hand. Chaworth gave up his
sword readily, but Lord Byron only surrendered his with reluctance.
Hawkrup, the surgeon, was immediately sent for, and pronounced the wound
to be mortal. The sword had entered about an inch on the left side of
the naval, and passing obliquely upwards, had made its exit about five
or six inches higher on the left side of the back, and in its passage
had made a large opening in the bottom of the stomach, wounded one of
the small intestines, and had passed through the diaphragm.
It appears that when the sword of Mr. Chaworth passed through the
waistcoat of his antagonist, he expressed his apprehension that he had
seriously wounded him. Now, under such an apprehension, it is probable
that he was thrown off his guard, when Lord Byron immediately shortened
his sword and ran him through the body, the unfortunate gentleman
endeavouring to parry the thrust with his left hand, and seizing the
gripe of his sword and struggling for it, still saying that he hoped his
Lordship was not seriously hurt; it was then that Lord Byron exclaimed,
“That he hoped he would acknowledge that he was as brave a man as any
other in the kingdom.”
Writhing under the agonies of his wound, Chaworth several times
declared, that although he well knew that he was in immediate danger of
death, and pained and distressed as he then was, he had rather be in his
present situation, than live under the misfortune of having killed
another person; and when questioned on the nature of the quarrel, he
expressed his conviction that it might have been easily made up. When
asked by one of his relations, Mr. Leveriz, if the business had been
fair, he remained silent. He only observed soon after, that when, after
closing the door, he turned round, he perceived that Lord Byron’s sword
was half drawn; _knowing his man_, he drew his own as quickly as he
could, and had the first pass at him. He further added, that he did not
believe that Lord Byron intended fighting him when they entered the
room, but seeing him up by the door, with scarcely any light in the
room, he believed he thought he had him at advantage.
Lord Byron, in his defence, stated that the deceased had treated him
during the altercation “in a slighting and contemptuous manner,” stating
that he had more game on five acres of his manor, than was on all his
lordship’s estates. He further stated, that on leaving the club-room he
met Chaworth on the stairs, who asked him “if he had any commands for
him,” to which he replied, “I should be glad of an opportunity of
speaking a few words to you.” The door being closed, Lord Byron asked
him “How am I to take those words you used, as an intended affront from
Sir Charles Sedley or yourself,” to which, according to the survivor’s
statement, Chaworth replied, “Your Lordship may take them as you please,
either as an affront or not, and I imagine this room is as fit a place
as any other to decide the affair in.” Lord Byron admitted, that at the
very moment when his antagonist received his mortal wound, he exclaimed,
“I am afraid I have killed your Lordship!” while at the same time “he
put his left hand to his belly, and Lord Byron observing that blood was
flowing, expressed his fear that he had seriously wounded him, when he
went to pull the bell for assistance, Mr. Chaworth saying, “My Lord, all
I have to say is, that you have behaved like a gentleman.”
The House of Lords found William, Lord Byron, “not guilty of the felony
of murder, but of manslaughter,” and his Lordship, claiming the benefit
of the statute of Edward VI, was discharged, paying his fees.
This unfortunate duel leads to many important reflections. It appears
that the parties were sober, that no previous ill-will existed between
them; but that the vanity of both had been hurt by reflections on their
manorial possessions; and the subject of game has ever been, and still
continues to be, a sore one amongst country gentlemen. To fight without
seconds has at all times been considered a murderous transaction; since
no evidence can be produced to prove that the foulest treachery may not
have been perpetrated. Chaworth declined (most probably from a high
sense of honour) accusing his antagonist of foul play; but he at the
same time, on his death-bed, also declined admitting that there had been
fair play. Lord Byron stated, that having parried Mr. Chaworth’s first
thrust, he made a second, which he also parried; and that then finding
himself with his back against the table, with great disadvantage of
light, he endeavoured to shift a little more to the right hand, which
unavoidably brought him nearer to his antagonist, when they both made a
thrust at the same time, Mr. C.’s sword passing against his ribs, and
cutting his waistcoat and shirt for upwards of eight inches, and he
supposes that it was then that Mr. C. received the unlucky wound.
It is impossible to form an opinion on this event, as to the fairness of
the duel; it only tends to show, that any fatal meeting without seconds,
should be visited with such severity as to prevent the probability of a
recurrence.
In 1762, was fought the celebrated duel between Earl Talbot and John
Wilkes. The dispute had originated in words used in the 12th number of
the North Briton, on the 21st August, which conveyed reflections
injurious to Earl Talbot, when Wilkes wrote the following letter to
Colonel Berkeley (afterwards Lord Bottetourt):—
“Winchester, Sept. 30, 1762.
“SIR,
“Lord Talbot, by your message, has at last brought this most important
question to the precise point where my first answer to his Lordship
fixed it, if he preferred that. As you have only seen the two last
letters, I must entreat you to cast your eye over those preceding;
because I apprehend they will justify an observation or two I made this
morning, when I had the honour of paying my respects to you at camp. Be
assured, that if I am between heaven and earth, I will be on Tuesday
evening at Telbury’s, the Red Lion, at Bagshot, and on Wednesday morning
will play this duel with his Lordship.
“It is a real satisfaction to me that his Lordship is to be accompanied
by a gentleman of Colonel Berkeley’s worth and honour.
“This will be delivered to you by my Adjutant, who attends me at
Bagshot. I shall not bring any servant with me, from the fear of any of
the parties being known. My pistols only, or his Lordship’s, at his
option, shall decide this point.
“I beg the favour of you to return me the letters, as I mean to leave
Winchester this evening. I have Lord Bruce’s leave of absence for ten
days.
“I am, &c.
“JOHN WILKES.
“I hope we may make a _partie quarrée_ for supper on Tuesday, at
Bagshot.”
To this lively letter the following reply was sent:—
“Camp, near Winchester, Sept. 30, 1762.
“SIR,
“I have sent all the letters, and shall depend upon the pleasure of
supping with you at Telbury’s, the Red Lion, at Bagshot, Tuesday
evening. My servant will attend me, as the going alone would give room
for suspicion; but you may depend upon his following your directions at
Bagshot, and that he shall not be seen where you would not have him. I
am much obliged by your favourable opinion, and am, &c.
“H. BERKELEY.”
“To Colonel Wilkes.”
In a letter to Earl Temple, Wilkes gives the following account of this
singular meeting:—
“Red Lion, at Bagshot,
”Tuesday, 10 at night, Oct. 5, 1762.
“MY LORD,
“I had the honour of transmitting to your Lordship copies of seven
letters which passed between Lord Talbot and me. As the affair is now
over, I inclose an original letter of Colonel Berkeley’s, with a copy of
mine previous to it, which fixed the particulars of our meeting, and
therefore remained a secret, very sacredly kept by the four persons
concerned.
“I came here at three this afternoon, and about five was told that Lord
Talbot and Colonel Berkeley were in the house. Lord Talbot had been here
at one, and was gone again, leaving a message, however, that he would
soon return. I had continued in the room where I was at my first coming
for fear of raising any suspicion. I sent a compliment to Colonel
Berkeley, and that I wished to see him; he was so obliging as to come to
me directly. I told him that I supposed we were to sup together with
Lord Talbot, whom I was ready to attend as became a private gentleman,
and that he and Mr. Harris (my Adjutant), as our seconds, would settle
the business of the next morning, according to my letter to him from
Winchester, and his answer. Berkeley said that his Lordship wished to
finish the business immediately. I replied, that the appointment was to
sup together that evening and to fight in the morning; that in
consequence of such an arrangement, I had, like an idle man of pleasure,
put off some business of real importance, which I meant to settle before
I went to bed. I added, that I came from Medmenham Abbey, where the
jovial monks of St. Francis had kept me up till four in the morning.
That the world would therefore conclude that I was drunk, and form no
favourable opinion of his Lordship from a duel at such a time; that it
more became us both to take a cool hour of the next morning, and as
early a one as was agreeable to his Lordship. Berkeley said that he had
undertaken to bring us together, and as we were both now at Bagshot, he
would leave us to settle our own business. He then asked me if I would
go with him to his Lordship. I said I would any moment he pleased. We
went directly, with my Adjutant.
“I found his Lordship in an agony of passion. He said that I had injured
him; that he was not used to be injured or insulted. What did I mean?
Did I, or did I not, write the North Briton of August the 21st, which
affronted his honour? He would know; he insisted on a direct answer;
here were his pistols. I replied, that he would soon use them; that I
desired to know by what right his Lordship catechised me about a paper
that did not bear my name; that I should never resolve the question to
him till he made out the right of putting it; and that if I could have
entertained any other idea, I was too well bred to have given his
Lordship and Colonel Berkeley the trouble of coming to Bagshot. I
observed that I was a private English gentleman, perfectly free and
independent, which I held to be a character of the highest dignity; that
I obeyed with pleasure a gracious sovereign, but would never submit to
the arbitrary dictates of a fellow-subject, a lord steward of his
household, my superior indeed in rank, fortune, and abilities, but my
equal only in honour, courage, and liberty. His Lordship then asked me
if I would fight him that evening. I said that I preferred the next
morning, as it had been settled before, and gave my reasons. His
Lordship replied that he insisted on finishing the affair immediately. I
told him that I should very soon be ready; that I did not mean to quit
him, but would absolutely first settle some important business relative
to the education of my only daughter, whom I tenderly loved; that it
would take up but very little time; and that I would immediately decide
the affair in any way he chose, for I had brought both sword and
pistols. I rang the bell for pen, ink, and paper, desiring his Lordship
to conceal his pistols, that they might not be seen by the waiters. He
soon after became half frantic, and used a thousand indecent
expressions, that I should be _hanged_, _damned_, &c., &c. I said that I
was not to be frightened, nor in the least affected by such violence;
that God had given me a firmness and spirit equal to his Lordship’s, or
any man’s; that cool courage should always mark me; and that it would be
seen how well bottomed he was.
“After the waiter had brought pen, ink, and paper, I proposed that the
door of the room should be locked, and not opened till our business was
decided. His Lordship, on this proposition, became quite outrageous;
declared that this was mere _butchery_, and that I was a wretch who
sought his life. I reminded him that I came there on a point of honour
to give his Lordship satisfaction; that I mentioned the circumstance of
shutting the door only to prevent all possibility of interruption; and
that I would, in every circumstance, be governed, not by the turbulence
of the most violent temper I had ever seen, but by the calm
determination of our two seconds, to whom I implicitly submitted. His
Lordship then asked me if I would deny the paper. I answered that I
would neither own nor deny it; if I survived, I would afterwards
declare, but not before.
“Soon after he grew a little cooler, and in a soothing tone of voice,
said, ‘I have never, I believe, offended Mr. Wilkes, why has he attacked
me? He must be sorry to see me unhappy.’ I asked him upon what grounds
his Lordship imputed the paper to me? That Mr. Wilkes would justify any
paper to which he had put his name, and would equally assert the
privilege of not giving any answer whatever about a paper to which he
had not; that that was my undoubted right, which I was ready to seal
with my blood.
“He then said he admired me exceedingly, really loved me, but I was an
unaccountable animal—such parts! But would I kill him who had never
offended me? &c., &c. We had after this a good deal of conversation
about the Bucks’ Militia and the day his Lordship came to see me on
Wycombe Heath, before I was colonel. He soon after flamed out again, and
said to me, ‘You are a murderer, you want to kill me, but I am sure I
shall kill you, I know I shall, by G—d! If you will fight, if you will
kill me, I hope you will be _hanged_. I know you will.’ I asked if I was
first to be _killed_ and afterwards to be _hanged_? That I knew his
Lordship fought me with the King’s pardon in his pocket, and I fought
him with a halter about my neck. That I would fight him for all that,
and if he fell I should not tarry here a moment for the tender mercies
of such a ministry; but would directly proceed to the next stage, where
my valet waited for me, from thence I would make the best of my way to
France, as men of honour were sure of protection in that country. He
then told me that I was an _unbeliever_, and wished to be killed. I
could not help smiling at this, and observed that we did not meet at
Bagshot to settle articles of faith, but points of honour; that, indeed,
I had no fear of dying, but I enjoyed life as much as any man; that I am
as little subject to be gloomy or even peevish, as any Englishman
whatever; that I valued life and the fair enjoyments of it so much, I
would never quit it with my own consent, except on a call of honour.
“I then wrote a letter to your Lordship, respecting the education of
Miss Wilkes, and gave you my poor thanks for the steady friendship with
which you have so many years honoured me. Colonel Berkeley took the care
of the letter, and I have since desired him to send it to Stowe; for the
sentiments of the head at such a moment are beyond all politics, and
indeed everything else, except such virtue as Lord Temple’s.
“When I had sealed my letter, I told his Lordship I was entirely at his
service, and I again desired that we might decide the affair in the
room, because there could not be a possibility of interruption; but he
was quite inexorable. He then asked me how many times we should fire. I
said, that I left it to his choice. I had brought a flask of powder and
a bag of bullets. Our seconds then charged the pistols which my Adjutant
had brought. They were large horse-pistols. It was agreed that we should
fire at the word of command, to be given by one of our seconds. They
tossed up, and it fell to my Adjutant to give the word.
“We then left the room, and walked to a garden at some distance from the
house. It was near seven, and the moon shone brightly. We stood about
eight yards distant, and agreed not to turn round before we fired, but
to continue facing each other. Harris gave the word. Both our fires were
in very exact time, but neither took effect.
“I walked up immediately to his Lordship, and told him, that now I
avowed the paper. His Lordship paid me the highest encomiums on my
courage, and said, he would declare everywhere that I am the noblest
fellow God had ever made. He then desired that we might now be good
friends, and retire to the inn to drink a bottle of claret together,
which we did with great good humour and much laugh.
“His Lordship afterwards went to Windsor, Colonel Berkeley and my
Adjutant to Winchester, and I continue here until to-morrow morning,
waiting the return of my valet, to whom I have sent a messenger.
Berkeley told me he was grieved at his Lordship’s passion, and admired
my coolness and courage beyond his farthest idea,—that was his
expression.
“I am, my Lord, &c.
“JOHN WILKES.”
According to our modern notions of duelling, in this curious transaction
one might be disposed to think that neither of the parties was
particularly anxious to fight. That Wilkes should have wished to sup in
company with the person whom he had offended, the night before the duel,
would lead one to fancy that he contemplated the possibility of a
reconciliation. On the other hand, Lord Talbot, by his conduct, which
was most ungentlemanly and outrageous, seemed disposed to bully Wilkes
into a concession; and both parties talked of killing, with a view to
terrify each other. From the well-known character of Wilkes, no one
could doubt his courage; but his refusing to acknowledge himself the
writer of the offensive article, which he after the duel admitted to
have been his, was a shallow act, that nothing could have justified but
the insulting manner in which Lord Talbot put the question to him; and
most assuredly his Lordship had the worst of the affair, since he was
satisfied with a shot returned, although Wilkes acknowledged himself the
writer of the insulting paragraph. The frequency of the duels that
occurred in those days does not appear to have given them, generally
speaking, a character of much delicacy or punctilious honour; and they
seem to have been the result of fashion more than of feeling.
In 1763 Wilkes got involved in another duel, with Mr. Martin, Secretary
to the Treasury. The North Briton, of which he was the editor, with its
usual acrimony against the members of the administration, had introduced
some characteristic sketches, supposed to allude to Samuel Martin,
member of Parliament for Camelford, and Secretary to the Treasury, and
afterwards the hero in Churchill’s poem, “The Duellist.” The following
was the offensive paragraph:—
“The secretary of a certain board, and a very apt tool of ministerial
persecution, who, with a snout worthy of a Portuguese inquisitor, is
hourly looking out for carrion in office, to feed the maw of the
insatiable vulture, _imo, etiam in senatum venit, notat et designat
unumquemque nostrûm_, he marks us, and all our innocent families, for
beggary and ruin. Neither the tenderness of age, nor the sacredness of
sex, is spared by the cruel Scot.”
In a further number notice is again taken “of the most treacherous,
base, selfish, mean, abject, low-lived, and dirty fellow, that ever
wriggled himself into a secretaryship.”
In consequence of that paragraph, which Mr. Martin applied to himself,
he made use of very insulting language in the House of Commons, when
speaking of the North Briton, upon which Wilkes sent him the following
letter;—
“Great George Street, Nov. 16, 1763.
“SIR,
“You complained yesterday before five hundred gentlemen, that you had
been _stabbed in the dark_ by the North Briton. But I believe you were
not so much in the _dark_ as you affected and chose to be. Was the
complaint made before so many gentlemen on purpose that they might
interpose? To cut off every pretence of this kind, as to the author, I
whisper in your ear, that every passage of the North Briton in which you
have been named or alluded to, was written by
“Your humble servant,
“JOHN WILKES.”
To this letter Mr. Martin returned the following answer:—
“Arlington Street, Nov. 16, 1763.
“SIR,
“As I said in the House of Commons yesterday, that the writer of the
North Briton, who had stabbed me in the dark, was a cowardly as well as
a malignant scoundrel, and your letter of this morning’s date
acknowledges that every passage of the North Briton in which I have been
named, or even alluded to, was written by yourself, I must take the
liberty to repeat, that you are a malignant and infamous scoundrel, and
that I desire to give you an opportunity of showing me whether the
epithet _cowardly_ was rightly applied or not. I desire that you may
meet me in Hyde Park immediately, with a brace of pistols each, to
determine our difference. I shall go to the ring in Hyde Park, with my
pistols, so concealed that nobody may see them, and I will wait in
expectation of you one hour. As I shall call on my way at your house to
deliver this letter, I propose to go from thence directly to the ring in
Hyde Park, from whence we may proceed, if it be necessary, to any more
private place. And I mention that I shall wait an hour, in order to give
you the full time to meet me.
“I am, sir, your humble servant,
“SAMUEL MARTIN.”
When the parties met in Hyde Park, they walked together a little while
to avoid some company which seemed coming up to them. They brought each
a pair of pistols. When they were alone, the first fire was from Mr.
Martin’s pistol, which missed Mr. Wilkes. The pistol in Mr. Wilkes’s
hand only flashed in the pan. The gentlemen then each took one of the
remaining pistols. Mr. Wilkes missed, and the ball of Mr. Martin’s
pistol lodged in Mr. Wilkes’s belly. He bled immediately very much. Mr.
Martin came up, and desired to give him all the assistance in his power.
Mr. Wilkes replied, that Mr. Martin had behaved like a man of honour;
that he was killed; and insisted on Mr. Martin’s making his immediate
escape, adding, that no person should know from him how the affair
happened. Upon this they parted. Mr. Wilkes was carried home; but would
not tell any circumstance of the case, till he found it was perfectly
known. He only said to the surgeon, that it was an affair of honour.
The day following, Mr. Wilkes, imagining himself in great danger,
returned to Mr. Martin his letter, that no evidence might appear against
him, and insisted upon it, with his own relatives, that in case of his
death, no trouble should be given to Mr. Martin, for he had behaved as a
man of honour.
The ball was extracted by Mr. Graves, a surgeon. It had struck Mr.
Wilkes’s coat-button, entered his belly half an inch below the navel,
and sunk obliquely on the right side towards the groin; but it had not
penetrated the cavity of the abdomen. It was extracted behind.
When he was able to write, he sent notice by letter to the Speaker of
the House of Commons of the condition of his health; and on Friday, the
16th, the House made the following order:—“That Dr. Heberden, physician,
and Mr. Cæsar Hawkins, one of His Majesty’s sergeant-surgeons, be
desired to attend John Wilkes, Esq., to observe the progress of his
cure; and that they, together with Dr. Brocklesby and Mr. Graves, do
attend this House to report their opinion thereupon, on the 19th of
January next, in case the said John Wilkes, Esq. be not then able to
attend in his place.”
The order being sent to Dr. Heberden, by order of the Speaker, he sent
it to Dr. Brocklesby, with a letter, desiring to know when he might
attend Dr. Brocklesby to Mr. Wilkes. Dr. Brocklesby sent the order of
the House and Dr. Heberden’s letter to Mr. Wilkes, who immediately
showed his delicacy of feeling on the subject by sending a polite card
to Dr. Heberden, saying, that he was well satisfied with the attention
and skill of Dr. Brocklesby and Mr. Graves; that he did not wish to see
Dr. Heberden for some weeks. He sent a similar card to Mr. Hawkins.[6]
Mr. Martin immediately proceeded to Paris; and on Mr. Wilkes’s arrival
in that city, notes, and a friendly visit, were exchanged between them.
Mr. Martin’s conduct in this transaction had been highly honourable; but
the public was so much exasperated at the danger to which Wilkes had
been exposed, that no credit was given to the spirit which his
antagonist had displayed. On the contrary, it was remarked, that Mr.
Martin had taken no notice of the objectionable passage in the North
Briton until about eight months after the publication, and that in so
public and official a manner before the House, as almost to demand an
interference. He was also accused of having during that period practised
every day at a target, Sundays not excepted; and also with not having
returned Mr. Wilkes’s letter till a month after the duel, with a view,
as it was suggested, had Mr. Wilkes speedily recovered, of making use of
it in evidence of his being concerned in the North Briton.
These were not the only instances of his life being perilled as a
political and party editor. He had not been long in Paris, after his
recovery, when a Scotch captain, of the name of Charles John Forbes,
called him out, as the writer of several articles in the North Briton
against the dignity of Scotland. Wilkes pleaded other engagements of the
same nature, but expressed his willingness to give him satisfaction as
soon as they were disposed of. The captain, in a wild manner, insisted
upon an immediate meeting; but not being able to find a second, or any
one to vouch for his being a gentleman, Wilkes declined accepting his
request. This affair coming to the ear of the police, the parties were
put upon their parole not to fight within the French dominions. Mr.
Wilkes, upon this, offered to meet him in Flanders, or any country in
Europe, Asia, Africa, or America, excepting the French territory. Soon
after the return of Wilkes to London, Captain Forbes appeared there,
with a view, as it was suspected, of fighting with him; but the
ministry, upon getting notice of the arrival and intention of the
Scotchman, very prudently caused it to be intimated to him, that his
presence could not but be very disagreeable; upon which the doughty
champion of Caledonia thought proper to leave the kingdom, and
afterwards entered the Portuguese service a desperate adventurer.
In December 1763, another Scotchman, of the name of Alexander Dunn,
obtained admission into Wilkes’s apartment; but being suspected of a
design to assassinate him, he was immediately seized and searched, when
a new large penknife was found in his pocket; which circumstance,
coupled with a declaration which he had been heard to make, that he, and
ten other sworn Scotch accomplices, had determined to cut Mr. Wilkes
off, whatever might be the result, left little doubt of his intention.
The papers found upon his person were laid before the House of Commons;
but it was found upon further examination, that the man was deranged.
The duel of Wilkes with Lord Talbot was one of the first that occurred
in the beginning of the reign of George III. Hostile meetings had now
assumed a different character. Swords were no longer drawn in bagnios,
taverns, and chocolate houses, on the spur of the moment, and public
broils had ceased to become fashionable: since the wearing of side-arms
had ceased to be customary, duels assumed a more regular and civilised
form. The desperate conduct of the “bloods” and “bucks” of the day was
no longer considered a proof of gentlemanlike bearing, and a man might
be looked upon as fashionable without being what was called _a hell-fire
rake_. The violence of party had now succeeded trifling dissentions and
tavern quarrels; and political differences not unfrequently excited high
feelings of animosity, which could only be tempered in the field: and in
the following chapter we shall see that duels were but of too frequent
occurrence during this momentous reign, a circumstance which we shall
endeavour to account for.
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