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.