In the somewhat brutal days of George III. (which brutality has descended to our own times) the Park was disgraced by prize-fights, and several duels were fought there, although the place was not so private as Wimbledon Common, Putney, or Kensington Gravel Pits. One of the favourite places in the Park for these encounters was near the Cheesecake House, or Price’s Lodge, for it was there that the celebrated duel between Lord Mohun and the Duke of Hamilton took place in 1712, and it certainly retained its position till 1751, when Fielding wrote Amelia, where Colonel Bath and Booth meeting in St. James’s Park, the Colonel says, “ ‘I will tell you therefore, Sir, that you have acted like a Scoundrel.’—‘If we were not in the Park,’ answered Booth warmly, ‘I would thank you very properly for that Compliment.’—‘O Sir!’ cries the Colonel, ‘we can soon be in a convenient place.’ Upon which Booth answered he would attend him wherever he pleased.—The Colonel then bid him come along, and strutted forward directly up Constitution Hill to Hyde Park, Booth following him at first, and afterwards walking before him, till they came to that Place which may be properly called the Field of Blood, being that part a little to the Left of the Ring, which Heroes have chosen for the Scene of their Exit out of this World.” Booth ran the Colonel through the body, without seriously injuring him, and a reconciliation took place, ending, “ ‘I bleed a little, but I can walk to the house by the water, (the Cheesecake House) and, if you will send me a Chair thither, I shall be obliged to you.’ ”[25]
I propose to give an account of some authentic duels which have taken place in Hyde Park, commencing with that of Lord Mohun and the Duke of Hamilton, on November 15th, 1712, all the rest being taken from The Gentleman’s Magazine.
This duel was invested with a political colouring, the Duke being the leader of the Jacobite faction in Scotland, and Mohun being a violent Whig; so that the Tories, enraged at Hamilton’s fall, did not scruple to call it a Whig murder, and denounce Lord Mohun’s second, General Macartney, as having unfairly stabbed him; but from the evidence taken at the two inquests,[26] there is not a scintilla of truth in the statement.
The story of the duel is, briefly, this. The two noblemen were opposing parties in a lawsuit; and, on Nov. 13, 1712, met in the chambers of a Master in Chancery, when the Duke remarked of a witness—“There is no truth or justice in him.” Lord Mohun replied, “I know Mr. Whitworth; he is an honest Man, and has as much truth as your Grace.” This, fanned to flame by officious friends, was enough; and, two days afterwards, they fought, early in the morning, in Hyde Park, near Price’s Lodge; their seconds, Col. Hamilton and General Macartney, also fighting, as was the custom; or, as they expressed it, “taking their share in the dance.”
The duel is shortly described by a witness, “John Reynolds of Price’s Lodge in the Park, Swore, That hearing of a Quarrel, he and one Nicholson, got Staves and ran to part them: that he Reynolds was within 30 or 40 yards of Duke Hamilton and my Lord Mohun when they fell. That my Lord Mohun fell into the ditch upon his back, and Duke Hamilton fell near him, leaning over him. That the two seconds ran in to them; and immediately after them this John Reynolds, who demanded the Seconds’ Swords, which they gave him, without any Resistance. He then wrested the Duke’s Sword out of his Hand, and Nicholson took away my Lord Mohun’s, and gave it to Reynolds, who carried the four swords some distance from the parties: He return’d and help’d Duke Hamilton up, who still lay on his Face. He got him up, and he walk’d about 30 Yards: they desir’d him to walk farther, and he said he could walk no farther.”
By this witness, supported by two others, we see no mention of General Macartney stabbing the Duke, as represented in the illustration, and as it was currently reported at the time. Macartney fled; but Col. Hamilton remained, stood his trial, and was found guilty of manslaughter. He accused Macartney of the foul deed, and great was the hue and cry after him. The Duchess was naturally enraged, and offered a reward of £300 for his apprehension, the Government supplementing her offer by an additional £500, but Macartney got away safely. When things were quieter, he returned, stood his trial at the Queen’s Bench, Colonel Hamilton’s testimony was contradicted, and he was acquitted of the murder, but found guilty of manslaughter. The punishment for this, by pleading benefit of Clergy, which, of course, was always done, was reduced to a very minimum—something amounting to the supposed burning of the hand with a barely warm, or cold iron—and he was restored to his rank in the army, and had a regiment given him.
