“I then wrote a letter to your Lordship, respecting the education of Miss Wilkes, and gave you my poor thanks for the steady friendship with which you have so many years honoured me. Colonel Berkeley took the care of the letter, and I have since desired him to send it to Stowe; for the sentiments of the head at such a moment are beyond all politics, and indeed everything else, except such virtue as Lord Temple’s.
“When I had sealed my letter, I told his Lordship I was entirely at his service, and I again desired that we might decide the affair in the room, because there could not be a possibility of interruption; but he was quite inexorable. He then asked me how many times we should fire. I said, that I left it to his choice. I had brought a flask of powder and a bag of bullets. Our seconds then charged the pistols which my Adjutant had brought. They were large horse-pistols. It was agreed that we should fire at the word of command, to be given by one of our seconds. They tossed up, and it fell to my Adjutant to give the word.
“We then left the room, and walked to a garden at some distance from the house. It was near seven, and the moon shone brightly. We stood about eight yards distant, and agreed not to turn round before we fired, but to continue facing each other. Harris gave the word. Both our fires were in very exact time, but neither took effect.
“I walked up immediately to his Lordship, and told him, that now I avowed the paper. His Lordship paid me the highest encomiums on my courage, and said, he would declare everywhere that I am the noblest fellow God had ever made. He then desired that we might now be good friends, and retire to the inn to drink a bottle of claret together, which we did with great good humour and much laugh.
“His Lordship afterwards went to Windsor, Colonel Berkeley and my Adjutant to Winchester, and I continue here until to-morrow morning, waiting the return of my valet, to whom I have sent a messenger. Berkeley told me he was grieved at his Lordship’s passion, and admired my coolness and courage beyond his farthest idea,—that was his expression.
“I am, my Lord, &c.
“John Wilkes.”
According to our modern notions of duelling, in this curious transaction one might be disposed to think that neither of the parties was particularly anxious to fight. That Wilkes should have wished to sup in company with the person whom he had offended, the night before the duel, would lead one to fancy that he contemplated the possibility of a reconciliation. On the other hand, Lord Talbot, by his conduct, which was most ungentlemanly and outrageous, seemed disposed to bully Wilkes into a concession; and both parties talked of killing, with a view to terrify each other. From the well-known character of Wilkes, no one could doubt his courage; but his refusing to acknowledge himself the writer of the offensive article, which he after the duel admitted to have been his, was a shallow act, that nothing could have justified but the insulting manner in which Lord Talbot put the question to him; and most assuredly his Lordship had the worst of the affair, since he was satisfied with a shot returned, although Wilkes acknowledged himself the writer of the insulting paragraph. The frequency of the duels that occurred in those days does not appear to have given them, generally speaking, a character of much delicacy or punctilious honour; and they seem to have been the result of fashion more than of feeling.
In 1763 Wilkes got involved in another duel, with Mr. Martin, Secretary to the Treasury. The North Briton, of which he was the editor, with its usual acrimony against the members of the administration, had introduced some characteristic sketches, supposed to allude to Samuel Martin, member of Parliament for Camelford, and Secretary to the Treasury, and afterwards the hero in Churchill’s poem, “The Duellist.” The following was the offensive paragraph:—
“The secretary of a certain board, and a very apt tool of ministerial persecution, who, with a snout worthy of a Portuguese inquisitor, is hourly looking out for carrion in office, to feed the maw of the insatiable vulture, imo, etiam in senatum venit, notat et designat unumquemque nostrûm, he marks us, and all our innocent families, for beggary and ruin. Neither the tenderness of age, nor the sacredness of sex, is spared by the cruel Scot.”