Read Ebook: The History of Duelling. Vol. 2 (of 2) by Millingen J G John Gideon

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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 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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

In a paper, No. 99, Addison relates the following anecdote:--"An English peer 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 .

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.

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."

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 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 :--

"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.

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.

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