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 1000l. 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:—

“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.

“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.

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.

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,