promise from his principal nobility that they would never engage in a
duel on any pretence whatever. He never swerved from his resolution to
pursue all duellists with the utmost rigour, and many were executed in
various parts of the country. A slight abatement of the evil was the
consequence, and in the course of a few years one duel was not
fought where twelve had been fought previously. A medal was struck to
commemorate the circumstance, by the express command of the King. So
much had he this object at heart, that, in his will, he particularly
recommended to his successor the care of his edict against duelling, and
warned him against any ill-judged lenity to those who disobeyed it. A
singular law formerly existed in Malta with regard to duelling. By this
law it was permitted, but only upon condition that the parties should
fight in one particular street. If they presumed to settle their quarrel
elsewhere, they were held guilty of murder, and punished accordingly.
What was also very singular, they were bound, under heavy penalties, to
put up their swords when requested to do so by a priest, a knight, or
a woman. It does not appear, however, that the ladies or the knights
exercised this mild and beneficent privilege to any great extent; the
former were too often themselves the cause of duels, and the latter
sympathised too much in the wounded honour of the combatants to attempt
to separate them. The priests alone were the great peacemakers. Brydone
says, that a cross was always painted on the wall opposite to the spot
where a knight had been killed, and that in the "street of duels" he
counted about twenty of them. [Brydone's "Tour in Malta." 1772.]
In England the private duel was also practised to a scandalous extent,
towards the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth
centuries. The judicial combat now began to be more rare, but several
instances of it are mentioned in history. One was instituted in the
reign of Elizabeth, and another so late as the time of Charles I. Sir
Henry Spelman gives an account of that which took place in Elizabeth's
reign, which is curious, perhaps the more so when we consider that it
was perfectly legal, and that similar combats remained so till the year
1819. A proceeding having been instituted in the Court of Common Pleas
for the recovery of certain manorial rights in the county of Kent,
the defendant offered to prove by single combat his right to retain
possession. The plaintiff accepted the challenge, and the Court having
no power to stay the proceedings, agreed to the champions who were to
fight in lieu of the principals. The Queen commanded the parties to
compromise; but it being represented to Her Majesty that they were
justified by law in the course they were pursuing, she allowed them to
proceed. On the day appointed, the Justices of the Common Pleas, and all
the council engaged in the cause, appeared as umpires of the combat,
at a place in Tothill-fields, where the lists had been prepared. The
champions were ready for the encounter, and the plaintiff and defendant
were publicly called to come forward and acknowledge them. The
defendant answered to his name, and recognised his champion with the due
formalities, but the plaintiff did not appear. Without his presence
and authority the combat could not take place; and his absence being
considered an abandonment of his claim, he was declared to be nonsuited,
and barred for ever from renewing his suit before any other tribunal
whatever.
The Queen appears to have disapproved personally of this mode of
settling a disputed claim, but her judges and legal advisers made no
attempt to alter the barbarous law. The practice of private duelling
excited more indignation, from its being of every-day occurrence. In the
time of James I the English were so infected with the French madness,
that Bacon, when he was Attorney-general, lent the aid of his powerful
eloquence to effect a reformation of the evil. Informations were
exhibited in the Star Chamber against two persons, named Priest and
Wright, for being engaged, as principal and second, in a duel, on which
occasion he delivered a charge that was so highly approved of by the
Lords of the Council, that they ordered it to be printed and circulated
over the country, as a thing "very meet and worthy to be remembered
and made known unto the world." He began by considering the nature
and greatness of the mischief of duelling. "It troubleth peace--it
disfurnisheth war--it bringeth calamity upon private men, peril upon
the state, and contempt upon the law. Touching the causes of it,"
he observed, "that the first motive of it, no doubt, is a false and
erroneous imagination of honour and credit; but then, the seed of this
mischief being such, it is nourished by vain discourses and green and
unripe conceits. Hereunto may be added, that men have almost lost the
true notion and understanding of fortitude and valour. For fortitude
distinguisheth of the grounds of quarrel whether they be just; and not
only so, but whether they be worthy, and setteth a better price upon
men's lives than to bestow them idly. Nay, it is weakness and disesteem
of a man's self to put a man's life upon such liedger performances.
A man's life is not to be trifled with: it is to be offered up and
sacrificed to honourable services, public merits, good causes, and noble
adventures. It is in expense of blood as it is in expense of money. It
is no liberality to make a profusion of money upon every vain occasion,
neither is it fortitude to make effusion of blood, except the cause of
it be worth." [See "Life and Character of Lord Bacon," by Thomas Martin,
Barrister-at-law.]
The most remarkable event connected with duelling in this reign was
that between Lord Sanquir, a Scotch nobleman, and one Turner, a
fencing-master. In a trial of skill between them, his lordship's eye was
accidentally thrust out by the point of Turner's sword. Turner expressed
great regret at the circumstance, and Lord Sanquir bore his loss with as
much philosophy as he was master of, and forgave his antagonist. Three
years afterwards, Lord Sanquir was at Paris, where he was a
constant visitor at the court of Henry IV. One day, in the course of
conversation, the affable monarch inquired how he had lost his eye.
Sanquir, who prided himself on being the most expert swordsman of the
age, blushed as he replied that it was inflicted by the sword of
a fencing-master. Henry, forgetting his assumed character of an
antiduellist, carelessly, and as a mere matter of course, inquired
whether the man lived? Nothing more was said, but the query sank
deep into the proud heart of the Scotch baron, who returned shortly
afterwards to England, burning for revenge. His first intent was
to challenge the fencing-master to single combat, but, on further
consideration, he deemed it inconsistent with his dignity to meet him as
an equal in fair and open fight. He therefore hired two bravos, who
set upon the fencing-master, and murdered him in his own house at
Whitefriars. The assassins were taken and executed, and a reward of one
thousand pounds offered for the apprehension of their employer. Lord
Sanquir concealed himself for several days, and then surrendered to
take his trial, in the hope (happily false) that Justice would belie her
name, and be lenient to a murderer because he was a nobleman, who, on
a false point of honour, had thought fit to take revenge into his own
hands. The most powerful intercessions were employed in his favour, but
James, to his credit, was deaf to them all. Bacon, in his character of
Attorney-general, prosecuted the prisoner to conviction; and he died the
felon's death, on the 29th of June, 1612, on a gibbet erected in front
of the gate of Westminster Hall.
With regard to the public duel, or trial by battle, demanded under the
sanction of the law, to terminate a quarrel which the ordinary course of
justice could with difficulty decide, Bacon was equally opposed to it,
and thought that in no case should it be granted. He suggested that
there should be declared a constant and settled resolution in the state
to abolish it altogether; that care should be taken that the evil be
no more cockered, nor the humour of it fed, but that all persons found
guilty should be rigorously punished by the Star Chamber, and these of
eminent quality banished from the court.
In the succeeding reign, when Donald Mackay, the first Lord Reay,
accused David Ramsay of treason, in being concerned with the Marquis of
Hamilton in a design upon the crown of Scotland, he was challenged by
the latter to make good his assertion by single combat. [See "History
of the House and Clan of Mackay."] It had been at first the intention of
the government to try the case by the common law, but Ramsay thought he
would stand a better chance of escape by recurring to the old and almost
exploded custom, but which was still the right of every man in appeals
of treason. Lord Reay readily accepted the challenge, and both were
confined in the Tower until they found security that they would appear
on a certain day, appointed by the court, to determine the question.
The management of the affair was delegated to the Marischal Court of
Westminster, and the Earl of Lindsay was created Lord Constable of
England for the purpose. Shortly before the day appointed, Ramsay
confessed in substance all that Lord Reay had laid to his charge, upon
which Charles I put a stop to the proceedings.
But in England, about this period, sterner disputes arose among men
than those mere individual matters which generate duels. The men of
the Commonwealth encouraged no practice of the kind, and the subdued
aristocracy carried their habits and prejudices elsewhere, and fought
their duels at foreign courts. Cromwell's Parliament, however,--although
the evil at that time was not so crying,--published an order, in 1654,
for the prevention of duels, and the punishment of all con cerned in
them. Charles II, on his restoration, also issued a proclamation upon
the subject. In his reign an infamous duel was fought--infamous, not
only from its own circumstances, but from the lenity that was shown to
the principal offenders.
The worthless Duke of Buckingham, having debauched the Countess of
Shrewsbury, was challenged by her husband to mortal combat, in January
1668. Charles II endeavoured to prevent the duel, not from any regard
to public morality, but from fear for the life of his favourite. He gave
commands to the Duke of Albemarle to confine Buckingham to his house,
or take some other measures to prevent him flora fighting. Albemarle
neglected the order, thinking that the King himself might prevent the
combat by some surer means. The meeting took place at Barn Elms, the
injured Shrewsbury being attended by Sir John Talbot, his relative,
and Lord Bernard Howard, son of the Earl of Arundel. Buckingham was
accompanied by two of his dependants, Captain Holmes and Sir John
Jenkins. According to the barbarous custom of the age, not only the
principals, but the seconds, engaged each other. Jenkins was pierced to
the heart, and left dead upon the field, and Sir John Talbot severely
wounded in both arms. Buckingham himself escaping with slight wounds,
ran his unfortunate antagonist through the body, and then left the field
with the wretched woman, the cause of all the mischief, who, in the
dress of a page, awaited the issue of the conflict in a neighbouring
wood, holding her paramour's horse to avoid suspicion. Great influence
was exerted to save the guilty parties from punishment, and the master,
as base as the favourite, made little difficulty in granting a free
pardon to all concerned. In a royal proclamation issued shortly
afterwards, Charles II formally pardoned the murderers, but declared his
intention never to extend, in future, any mercy to such offenders. It
would be hard after this to say who was the most infamous, the King, the
favourite, or the courtezan.
In the reign of Queen Anne, repeated complaints were made of the
prevalence of duelling. Addison, Swift, Steele, and other writers,
employed their powerful pens in reprobation of it. Steele especially,
in the "Tatler" and "Guardian," exposed its impiety and absurdity, and
endeavoured, both by argument and by ridicule, to bring his countrymen
to a right way of thinking. [See "Spectator," Nos. 84. 97, and 99; and
"Tatler," Nos. 25, 26, 29, 31, 38, and 39; and "Guardian," No. 20.] His
comedy of "The Conscious Lovers" contains an admirable exposure of the
abuse of the word honour, which led men into an error so lamentable.
Swift, writing upon the subject, remarked that he could see no harm in
rogues and fools shooting each other. Addison and Steele took higher
ground, and the latter, in the "Guardian," summed up nearly all that
could be said upon the subject in the following impressive words:--"A
Christian and a gentleman are made inconsistent appellations of the
same person. You are not to expect eternal life if you do not forgive
injuries, and your mortal life is rendered uncomfortable if you are not
ready to commit a murder in resentment of an affront; for good sense,
as well as religion, is so utterly banished the world that men glory in
their very passions, and pursue trifles with the utmost vengeance, so
little do they know that to forgive is the most arduous pitch human
nature can arrive at. A coward has often fought--a coward has often
conquered, but a coward never forgave." Steele also published a
pamphlet, in which he gave a detailed account of the edict of Louis XIV,
and the measures taken by that monarch to cure his subjects of their
murderous folly.
On the 8th of May, 1711, Sir Cholmely Deering, M.P. for the county of
Kent, was slain in a duel by Mr. Richard Thornhill, also a member of
the House of Commons. Three days afterwards, Sir Peter King brought
the subject under the notice of the Legislature, and after dwelling at
considerable length on the alarming increase of the practice, obtained
leave to bring in a bill for the prevention and punishment of duelling.
It was read a first time that day, and ordered for a second reading in
the ensuing week.
About the same time the attention of the Upper House of Parliament was
also drawn to the subject in the most painful manner. Two of its
most noted members would have fought, had it not been that Queen Anne
received notice of their intention, and exacted a pledge that they would
desist; while a few months afterwards, two other of its members lost
their lives in one of the most remarkable duels upon record. The first
affair, which happily terminated without a meeting, was between the Duke
of Marlborough and the Earl Pawlet. The latter, and fatal encounter, was
between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun.
The first arose out of a debate in the Lords upon the conduct of the
Duke of Ormond, in refusing to hazard a general engagement with the
enemy, in which Earl Pawlet remarked that nobody could doubt the courage
of the Duke of Ormond. "He was not like a certain general, who led
troops to the slaughter, to cause great numbers of officers to be
knocked on the head in a battle, or against stone walls, in order to
fill his pockets by disposing of their commissions." Every one felt that
the remark was aimed at the Duke of Marlborough, but he remained silent,
though evidently suffering in mind. Soon after the House broke up, the
Earl Pawlet received a visit from Lord Mohun, who told him that the Duke
of Marlborough was anxious to come to an explanation with him relative
to some expressions he had made use of in that day's debate, and
therefore prayed him to "go and take a little air in the country." Earl
Pawlet did not affect to misunderstand the hint, but asked him in plain
terms whether he brought a challenge from the Duke. Lord Mohun said his
message needed no explanation, and that he (Lord Mohun) would accompany
the Duke of Marlborough. He then took his leave, and Earl Pawlet
returned home and told his lady that he was going out to fight a duel
with the Duke of Marlborough. His lady, alarmed for her lord's safety,
gave notice of his intention to the Earl of Dartmouth, who immediately,
in the Queen's name, sent to the Duke of Marlborough, and commanded him
not to stir abroad. He also caused Earl Pawlet's house to be guarded by
two sentinels; and having taken these precautions, informed the Queen of
the whole affair. Her Majesty sent at once for the Duke, expressed her
abhorrence of the custom of duelling, and required his word of honour
that he would proceed no further. The Duke pledged his word accordingly,
and the affair terminated.
The lamentable duel between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun took
place in November 1712, and sprang from the following circumstances. A
lawsuit had been pending for eleven years between these two noblemen,
and they looked upon each other in consequence with a certain degree of
coldness. They met together on the 13th of November in the chambers of
Mr. Orlebar, a Master in Chancery, when, in the course of conversation,
the Duke of Hamilton reflected upon the conduct of one of the witnesses
in the cause, saying that he was a person who had neither truth nor
justice in him. Lord Mohun, somewhat nettled at this remark, applied
to a witness favourable to his side, made answer hastily, that Mr.
Whiteworth, the person alluded to, had quite as much truth and justice
in him as the Duke of Hamilton. The Duke made no reply, and no one
present imagined that he took offence at what was said; and when he went
out, of the room, he made a low and courteous salute to the Lord Mohun.
In the evening, General Macartney called twice upon the Duke with a
challenge from Lord Mohun, and failing in seeing him, sought him a third
time at a tavern, where he found him, and delivered his message. The
Duke accepted the challenge, and the day after the morrow, which was
Sunday, the 15th of November, at seven in the morning, was appointed for
the meeting.
At that hour they assembled in Hyde Park, the Duke being attended by
his relative, Colonel Hamilton, and the Lord Mohun by General Macartney.
They jumped over a ditch into a place called the Nursery, and prepared
for the combat. The Duke of Hamilton, turning to General Macartney,
said, "Sir, you are the cause of this, let the event be what it will."
Lord Mohun did not wish that the seconds should engage, but the Duke
insisted that "Macartney should have a share in the dance." All being
ready, the two principals took up their positions, and fought with
swords so desperately that, after a short time, they both fell down,
mortally wounded. The Lord Mohun expired upon the spot, and the Duke of
Hamilton in the arms of his servants as they were carrying him to his
coach.
This unhappy termination caused the greatest excitement, not only in the
metropolis, but all over the country. The Tories, grieved at the loss of
the Duke of Hamilton, charged the fatal combat on the Whig party, whose
leader, the Duke of Marlborough, had so recently set the example of
political duels. They called Lord Mohun the bully of the Whig faction,
(he had already killed three men in duels, and been twice tried for
murder), and asserted openly, that the quarrel was concocted between him
and General Macartney to rob the country of the services of the Duke of
Hamilton by murdering him. It was also asserted, that the wound of which
the Duke died was not inflicted by Lord Mohun, but by Macartney; and
every means was used to propagate this belief. Colonel Hamilton, against
whom and Macartney the coroner's jury had returned a verdict of wilful
murder, surrendered a few days afterwards, and was examined before a
privy council sitting at the house of Lord Dartmouth. He then deposed,
that seeing Lord Mohun fall, and the Duke upon him, he ran to the Duke's
assistance, and that he might with the more ease help him, he flung down
both their swords, and, as he was raising the Duke up, he saw Macartney,
make a push at him. Upon this deposition a royal proclamation was
immediately issued, offering a reward of 500 pounds for the apprehension
of Macartney, to which the Duchess of Hamilton afterwards added a reward
of 300 pounds.
Upon the further examination of Colonel Hamilton, it was found that
reliance could not be placed on all his statements, and that he
contradicted himself in several important particulars. He was arraigned
at the Old Bailey for the murder of Lord Mohun, the whole political
circles of London being in a fever of excitement for the result. All the
Tory party prayed for his acquittal, and a Tory mob surrounded the
doors and all the avenues leading to the court of justice for many hours
before the trial began. The examination of witnesses lasted seven hours.
The criminal still persisted in accusing General Macartney of the murder
of the Duke of Hamilton, but, in other respects, say the newspapers of
the day, prevaricated foully. He was found guilty of manslaughter. This
favourable verdict was received with universal applause, "not only from
the court and all the gentlemen present, but the common people showed a
mighty satisfaction, which they testified by loud and repeated huzzas."
["Post Boy," December l3th, 1712.]
As the popular delirium subsided, and men began to reason coolly upon
the subject, they disbelieved the assertions of Colonel Hamilton, that
Macartney had stabbed the Duke, although it was universally admitted
that he had been much too busy and presuming. Hamilton was shunned by
all his former companions, and his life rendered so irksome to him, that
he sold out of the Guards, and retired to private life, in which he died
heart-broken four years afterwards.
General Macartney surrendered about the same time, and was tried for
murder in the Court of King's Bench. He was, however, found guilty of
manslaughter only.
At the opening of the session of Parliament of 1713, the Queen made
pointed allusion in her speech to the frequency of duelling, and
recommended to the Legislature to devise some speedy and effectual
remedy for it. A bill to that effect was brought forward, but thrown
out on the second reading, to the very great regret of all the sensible
portion of the community.
A famous duel was fought in 1765 between Lord Byron and Mr. Chaworth.
The dispute arose at a club-dinner, and was relative to which of the two
had the largest quantity of game on his estates. Infuriated by wine and
passion, they retired instantly into an adjoining room, and fought with
swords across a table, by the feeble glimmer of a tallow-candle. Mr.
Chaworth, who was the more expert swordsman of the two, received a
mortal wound, and shortly afterwards expired. Lord Byron was brought
to trial for the murder before the House of Lords; and it appearing
clearly, that the duel was not premeditated, but fought at once, and
in the heat of passion, he was found guilty of manslaughter only, and
ordered to be discharged upon payment of his fees. This was a very bad
example for the country, and duelling of course fell into no disrepute
after such a verdict.
In France, more severity was exercised. In the year 1769, the Parliament
of Grenoble took cognizance of the delinquency of the Sieur Duchelas,
one of its members, who challenged and killed in a duel a captain of the
Flemish legion. The servant of Duchelas officiated as second, and was
arraigned with his master for the murder of the captain. They were both
found guilty. Duchelas was broken alive on the wheel, and the servant
condemned to the galleys for life.