Duelling in England was carried to its greatest possible excess in the
reigns of James I. and of the two Charles’s. In the reign of the latter
Charles, the seconds always fought as well as their principals; and as
they were chosen for their courage and adroitness, their combats were
generally the most fatal. Lord Howard, of Carlisle, in the reign of
Charles II., gave a grand fête champêtre at Spring Gardens, near the
village of Charing, the Vauxhall of that day. This fête was to
facilitate an intrigue between lord Howard and the profligate duchess of
Shrewsbury: but the gay and insinuating Sidney flirted with the duchess,
abstracted her attention from Howard, and ridiculed the fête. The next
day his lordship sent a challenge to Sidney, who chose as his second a
tall, furious, adroit swordsman, named Dillon; Howard selected a young
gentleman, named Rawlings, just come into possession of an estate of
10,000_l._ a year. Sidney was wounded in two or three places, whilst his
second was run through the heart, and left dead on the field. The duke
of Shrewsbury became afterwards so irritated as to challenge the
infamous Buckingham for intriguing with his wife. The duchess of
Shrewsbury, in the disguise of a page, attended Buckingham to the field,
and held his horse whilst he fought and killed her husband. The
profligate king, in spite of every remonstrance from the queen, received
the duke of Buckingham with open arms, after this brutal murder.
In 172 duels fought during the last sixty years, 69 persons were killed;
(in three of these duels, neither of the combatants survived;) 96
persons were wounded, 48 desperately and 48 slightly; and 188 escaped
unhurt. Thus, rather more than one-fifth lost their lives, and nearly
one-half received the bullets of their antagonists. It appears also,
that out of this number of duels, eighteen trials took place; six of the
arraigned were acquitted, seven found guilty of manslaughter, and three
of murder; two were executed, and eight imprisoned for different
periods.
About thirty years ago, there was a duelling society held in Charleston,
South Carolina, where each “gentleman” took precedence according to the
numbers he had killed or wounded in duels. The president and deputy had
killed many. It happened that an old weather-beaten lieutenant of the
English navy arrived at Charleston, to see after some property which had
devolved upon him, in right of a Charleston lady, whom he had married;
and on going into a coffee-house, engaged in conversation with a native,
whose insults against England were resented, and the English lieutenant
received a challenge. As soon as the affair was known, some gentlemen
waited upon the stranger to inform him, that the man who had called him
out was a duellist, a “dead shot,” the president of the duellist club;
they added, that the society and all its members, though the wealthiest
people of the place, were considered so infamous by really respectable
persons, that he would not be held in disesteem by not meeting the
challenger. The lieutenant replied, that he was not afraid of any
duellist; he had accepted the challenge, and would meet his man. They
accordingly did meet, and at the first fire the lieutenant mortally
wounded his antagonist. In great agony, and conscience-stricken, he
invoked the aid of several divines, and calling the “duellist society”
to his bedside, lectured them upon the atrocity of their conduct, and
begged, as his dying request, that the club might be broken up. The
death of this ruffian suppressed a society which the country did not
possess sufficient morals or gentlemanly spirit to subdue.
In Virginia, a Mr. Powell, a notorious duellist, purposely met and
insulted an English traveller, for having said, that “the Virginians
were of no use to the American Union, it requiring one half of the
Virginians to keep the other half in order;” the newspapers took it up
as a national quarrel, and anticipated the meeting, without the
magistracy having decency, morals, or public spirit sufficient to
interfere. The Englishman, therefore, got an American duellist as his
second, went into training and practice, and met his adversary amidst a
mob of many thousands to witness the fight. Mr. Powell was killed on
the first shot, and the Englishman remained unhurt.
The brother of general Delancey, the late barrack-master general, having
high words with a “gentleman” in a coffee-house at New York, the
American immediately called for pistols, and insisted upon fighting in
the public coffee-room, across one of the tables. None of the
“gentlemen” present interfered; they fought across the table, and the
American dishonestly firing before his time, the Englishman was shot
dead upon the spot. Lately, at Nashville, a gentleman was shot dead
before his own door, in a duel, in the principal square of the city.
In 1763, the secretary of the English treasury, Mr. Martin, notoriously
trained himself as a duellist, for the avowed purpose of shooting Mr.
Wilkes, whom he first insulted in the House of Commons, and afterwards
wounded in the park. This gave rise to Churchill’s poem of “The
Duellist;” the House of Commons ordered his majesty’s sergeant surgeon
to attend Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. Martin was considered to “have done the
state some service.”
At that period duels were frequent among clergymen. In 1764, the _Rev._
Mr. Hill was killed in a duel by cornet Gardener, of the carabineer. The
_Reverend_ Mr. Bate fought two duels, and was subsequently created a
baronet, and preferred to a deanery after he had fought another duel.
The _Reverend_ Mr. Allen killed a Mr. Delany in a duel, in Hyde Park,
without incurring any ecclesiastical censure, though judge Buller, on
account of his extremely bad conduct, strongly charged his guilt upon
the jury.
In 1765, occurred a celebrated duel between the father of the late lord
Byron and Mr. Chaworth, a famous duellist. They quarrelled at a
club-dinner at the Star and Garter, Pall Mall, about game; Chaworth was
a great game preserver, and lord Byron had argued upon the cruelty and
impolicy of the game laws. They agreed to fight in an adjoining room, by
the light of only one candle. Lord Byron entered first; and, as Chaworth
was shutting the door, turning his head round, he beheld lord Byron’s
sword half undrawn; he immediately whipped his own weapon out, and
making a lunge at his lordship, ran it through his waistcoat, conceiving
that his sword had gone through his body: lord Byron closed, and,
shortening his sword, stabbed Mr. Chaworth in the belly. The challenge
had proceeded from Chaworth. Lord Byron read his defence to the House of
Lords, and was found guilty of manslaughter; and, upon the privilege of
his peerage, was discharged on paying his fees.
In 1772, a Mr. M‘Lean was challenged and killed by a Mr. Cameron; and
the mother of Mr. M‘Lean, on hearing of the shocking event, instantly
lost her senses, whilst a Miss M‘Leod, who was to have been married to
the deceased, was seized with fits, and died in three days.
In Mr. Sheridan’s duel with Mr. Mathews, the parties cut and slashed at
each other, _à la mode de théâtre_, until Mr. Mathews left a part of his
sword sticking in Mr. Sheridan’s ear.
In a famous duel in which Mr. Riddell was killed, and Mr. Cunningham
very severely wounded, the challenge, by mistake, had fallen in the
first instance into the hands of sir James Riddell, father to Mr.
Riddell, who, on having it delivered to him, did no more than provide
surgeons for the event.
In 1789, colonel Lennox conceived himself to have been insulted by the
late duke of York having told him, before all the officers on the parade
of St. James’s, “that he desired to derive no protection from his rank
of prince.” The colonel accordingly fought his royal highness, it was
said, with cork bullets; but be that as it may, he contrived to disturb
one of the huge rows of curls which it was then the fashion to wear on
the side of the head.
In 1790, a captain Macrae fought and killed sir George Ramsay, for
refusing to dismiss a faithful old servant who had insulted captain
Macrae. Sir George urged, that even if the servant were guilty, he had
been sufficiently punished by the cruel beating that captain Macrae had
given him. As soon as the servant heard that his master had been killed
on his account, he fell into strong convulsions, and died in a few
hours. Captain Macrae fled, and was outlawed.
In 1797, colonel Fitzgerald, a married man, eloped from Windsor with his
cousin, the daughter of lord Kingston. Colonel King, the brother, fought
colonel Fitzgerald in Hyde Park. They fired six shots each without
effect; and the powder being exhausted, colonel King called his opponent
“a villain,” and they resolved to fight again next day. They were,
however, put under an arrest, when colonel Fitzgerald had the audacity
to follow lord Kingston’s family to Ireland, to obtain the object of his
seduction from her parents. Colonel King hearing of this, repaired to
the inn where colonel Fitzgerald put up. Colonel Fitzgerald had locked
himself in his room, and refused admission to colonel King, who broke
open the door, and running to a case of pistols, seized one, and desired
colonel Fitzgerald to take the other. The parties grappled, and were
fighting, when lord Kingston entered the room; and perceiving, from the
position of the parties, that his son must lose his life, instantly shot
Fitzgerald dead on the spot.
In 1803, a very singular duel took place in Hyde Park, between a
lieutenant W., of the navy, and a captain I., of the army. Captain I.
had seduced the lieutenant’s sister. Lieutenant W. seemed impressed with
a deep sense of melancholy: he insisted that the distance should be only
six paces. At this distance they fired, and the shot of captain I.
struck the guard of lieutenant W.’s pistol, and tore off two fingers of
his right hand. The lieutenant deliberately wrapped his handkerchief
round the wound, and looking solemnly to heaven, exclaimed, “I have a
left hand, which never failed me.” They again took their ground.
Lieutenant W. looked steadfastly at captain I., and casting his eyes up
to heaven, was heard to utter “forgive me.” They fired, and both fell.
Captain I. received the ball in his head, and died instantly: the
lieutenant was shot through the breast. He inquired if captain I.’s
wound was mortal. Being answered in the affirmative, he thanked heaven
that he had lived so long. He then took his mourning ring off his
finger, and said to his second, “Give this to my sister, and tell her it
is the happiest moment I ever knew.” He had scarcely uttered the last
word, when a quantity of blood gushed from his wound, and he instantly
expired.
These are practices in a _Christian_ country.
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