It must have been a terrible affair. Sir Bernard Burke, in his Anecdotes of the Aristocracy, describes it as follows: "This sanguinary duel, originating in a political intrigue, was fought early one morning at the Ring in Hyde Park, then the usual spot for settling these so-called affairs of honour. The Duke and his second, Colonel Hamilton of the Foot Guards, were the first in the field. Soon after came Lord Mohun and his second, Major Macartney. No sooner had the second party reached the ground than the Duke, unable to conceal his feelings, turned sharply round on Major Macartney, and remarked, 'I am well assured, sir, that all this is by your contrivance, and therefore you shall have your share in the dance; my friend here, Colonel Hamilton, will entertain you.' I wish for no better partner,' replied Macartney; the Colonel may command me.' Little more passed between them, and the fight began with infinite fury, each being too intent upon doing mischief to his opponent to look sufficiently to his own defence. Macartney had the misfortune to be speedily disarmed, though not before he had wounded his adversary in the right leg; but, luckily for him, at this very moment the attention of the Colonel 58 FAMILIAR LONDON was drawn off to the condition of his friend, and, flinging both swords to a distance, he hastened to his assistance. The combat, indeed, had been carried on between the principals with uncommon ferocity, the loud and angry clashing of the steel having called to the spot the few stragglers that were abroad in the Park at so early an hour. In a very short time the Duke was wounded in both legs, which he returned with interest, piercing his antagonist in the groin, through the arm, and in sundry other parts of his body. The blood flowed freely on both sides, their swords, their faces, even the grass about them, being reddened with it; but rage lent them that almost supernatural strength which is so often seen in madmen. If they had thought little enough before of attending to their self-defence, they now seemed to have abandoned the idea altogether. Each at the same time made a desperate lunge at the other; the Duke's weapon passed right through his adversary, up to the very hilt; and the latter, shortening his sword, plunged it into the upper part of the Duke's left breast, the wound running downwards into his body, when his Grace fell upon him. It was now that the Colonel came to his aid, and raised him in his arms. Such a blow, it is probable, would have A SAVAGE COMBAT 59 been fatal of itself; but Macartney had by this time picked up one of the swords, and, stabbing the Duke to the heart over Hamilton's shoulder, immediately fled, and made his escape to Holland. Such, at least, was the tale of the day, widely disseminated and generally believed by one party, although it was no less strenuously denied by the other. Proclamations were issued, and rewards offered, to an unusual amount, for the apprehension of the murderer, the affair assuming all the interest of a public question. Nay, it was roundly asserted by the Tories, that the Whig faction had gone so far as to place hired assassins about the Park to make sure of their victim, if he escaped the open ferocity of Lord Mohun, or the yet more perilous treachery of Macartney. "When the Duke fell, the spectators of this bloody tragedy, who do not appear to have interfered in any shape, then came forward to bear him to the Cake-House, that a surgeon might be called in, and his wounds looked to; but the blow had been struck too home; before they could raise him from the grass, he expired. Such is one of the many accounts that have been given of this bloody affair, for the traditions of the day are anything but uniform or consistent. . . . . 60 66 FAMILIAR LONDON Lord Mohun himself died of his wounds upon the spot, and with him his title became extinct.” In 1762 a duel was fought between John Wilkes and Samuel Martin, a member of Parliament, who had called Mr Wilkes "a stabber in the dark, a cowardly and malignant scoundrel." They repaired to a copse in Hyde Park, with pistols, and fired four times. Wilkes was seriously wounded. Martin rushed forward, and remorsefully insisted on helping his late antagonist off the ground; whereon Wilkes urged Martin to hurry away and escape arrest. This story really refreshes one after the horribly brutal episode in the former narrative. There are many other stories of duels in Hyde Park, and as lately as 1822 the Dukes of Bedford and Buckingham did battle on the sward. There is an old story about a duel between an Englishman and a Frenchman in a darkened room. The Englishman, being reluctant to take his adversary's life, fired up the chimney and brought down the Frenchman. "When I tell this story in France,” says the narrator, "I make the Englishman go up the chimney." It is a relief to turn away from these records of the senseless brutality of men whose better instincts were overcome by their animal passions |