The following are the particulars of this very important case:—Major Oneby was indicted in the year 1726, for the murder of Mr. Gower, and a special verdict was found, stating that the prisoner being in company with the deceased, and three other persons, at a tavern, in a friendly manner, after some time began playing at hazard; when Rich, one of the company, asked if any one would set him three half crowns; whereupon the deceased, in a jocular manner, laid down three halfpence, telling Rich he had set him three pieces, and the prisoner at the same time set Rich three half crowns, and lost them to him. Immediately after which, the prisoner, in an angry manner, turned about to the deceased and said, “It was an impertinent thing to set down halfpence, and that he was an impertinent puppy for so doing;” to which the deceased answered, “whoever called him so was a rascal.” Thereupon the prisoner took up a bottle, and with great force threw it at the deceased’s head, but did not hit him, the bottle only brushing some of the powder out of his hair. The deceased, in return, immediately tossed a candlestick or bottle at the prisoner, which missed him; upon which they both rose up to fetch their swords, which were then hung up in the room, and the deceased drew his sword, but the prisoner was prevented drawing his by the company; the deceased thereupon threw away his sword, and the company interposing, they sat down again for the space of an hour.
At the expiration of that time, the deceased said to the prisoner, “We have had hot words, and you were the aggressor, but I think we may pass it over,” at the same time offering his hand to the prisoner, who made for answer, “No, d—n you, I will have your blood.”
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.
Upon these facts all the judges were of opinion that the prisoner was guilty of murder; he having acted upon malice and deliberation, and not from sudden passion. The argument of the Chief Justice went to show, that after the door had been shut the parties were upon an equal footing in point of preparation before the fight began, in which the mortal wound was given. The main point then, on which the judgment turned, and so declared to be, was the evidence of express malice, after the interposition of the company, and the parties had all sat down again for an hour. Under these circumstances the Court were of opinion that the prisoner had had reasonable time for cooling; after which, upon an offer of reconciliation from the deceased, he had made use of that bitter and deliberate expression, “That he would have his blood;” and again, the prisoner remaining in the room after the rest of the company had retired, and calling back the deceased by the contemptuous appellation of “young man,” on pretence of having something to say to him, altogether showed such strong proof of deliberation and coolness, as precluded the presumption of passion having continued down to the time of the mortal stroke, and that there was no doubt but that he had compelled Gower to defend himself.
It was also about this period that Addison and Steele, in the Spectator and the Tatler, endeavoured to draw public attention to this subject, and used both the power of persuasion and raillery to discountenance the disgraceful practice. In No. 84 of the Spectator, Steele wrote an essay against duelling, and in the character of Spinamont he alluded to a meeting that had taken place between Sir Cholmondeley Dering and Mr. Thornhill, when the former was killed. Thornhill was acquitted of the charge of murder; but two months after, he was stabbed by two men on Turnham-green, who exclaimed as they struck him, “Remember Sir Cholmondeley Dering.”
In the 9th number of the Spectator, Addison commences his remarks on duelling by describing the “Hum-Drum and Mum Clubs,” and adds, “I cannot forbear mentioning a mischievous one that was erected in the reign of Charles II, I mean the club of duellists, in which none was to be admitted that had not fought his man. The president of it was said to have killed half a dozen in single combat; and as for the other members they took their seats according to the number of their slain. There was likewise a side-table for such as had only drawn blood, and shown a laudable ambition of taking the first opportunity to qualify themselves for the first table. This club, which consisted only of men of honour, did not continue long, most of the members being put to the sword, or hanged, a little after the institution.”
In a paper, No. 99, Addison relates the following anecdote:—“An English peer[[5]] 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.”