In the preliminary arrangements, some humane articles were agreed upon, probably by the influence of the seconds; but, if we are to believe Sir Edward Sackville, Lord Kinloss, in choosing his adversary’s weapon, expressed some blood-thirsty sentiments, that gave him reason to hope for little mercy if he should be the vanquished party. Being on his part incensed by these unworthy expressions, he, though heavy with a recent dinner, hurried on the combat. To follow his remarkable narrative:[349]
1613.
‘I being verily mad with anger [that] the Lord Bruce should thirst after my life with a kind of assuredness, seeing I had come so far and heedlessly to give him leave to regain his lost reputation, bade him alight, which with all willingness he quickly granted; and there, in a meadow ankle-deep in water at the least, bidding farewell to our doublets, in our shirts began to charge each other; having afore commanded our surgeons to withdraw themselves a pretty distance from us, conjuring them besides, as they respected our favours or their own safeties, not to stir, but suffer us to execute our pleasures; we being fully resolved (God forgive us!) to despatch each other by what means we could. I made a thrust at my enemy, but was short, and in drawing back my arm, I received a great wound thereon, which I interpreted as a reward for my short-shooting; but, in revenge, I pressed in to him, though I then missed him also, and then received a wound in my right pap, which passed level through my body, and almost to my back. And there we wrestled for the two greatest and dearest prizes we could ever expect trial for—honour and life; in which struggling, my hand, having but an ordinary glove on it, lost one of her servants, though the meanest, which hung by a skin.... At last, breathless, yet keeping our holds, there passed on both sides propositions of quitting each other’s swords; but when amity was dead, confidence could not live, and who should quit first, was the question; which on neither part either would perform, and restriving again afresh, with a kick and a wrench together, I freed my long captivated weapon; which incontinently levying at his throat, being master still of his, I demanded if he would ask his life, or yield his sword; both which, though in that imminent danger, he bravely denied to do. Myself being wounded, and feeling loss of blood, having three conduits running on me, which began to make me faint, and he courageously persisting not to accord to either of my propositions, through remembrance of his former bloody desire, and feeling of my present state, I struck at his heart, but with his avoiding missed my aim, yet passed through the body, and drawing out my sword, repassed it again through another place, when he cried: “O, I am slain!” seconding his speech with all the force he had to cast me; but being too weak, after I had defended his assault, I easily became master of him, laying him on his back, when, being upon him, I redemanded if he would request his life; but it seemed he prized it not at so dear a rate to be beholden for it, bravely replying, “he scorned it.” Which answer of his was so noble and worthy, as I protest I could not find in my heart to offer him any more violence; only keeping him down, until at length his surgeon, afar off, cried out, “he would immediately die if his wounds were not stopped.” Whereupon, I asked if he desired his surgeon should come, which he accepted of; and so being drawn away, I never offered to take his sword, accounting it inhuman to rob a dead man, for so I held him to be. This thus ended, I retired to my surgeon, in whose arms, after I had remained a while for want of blood, I lost my sight, and withal, as I then thought, my life also. But strong water and his diligence quickly recovered me, when I escaped a great danger. For my lord’s surgeon, when nobody dreamt of it, came full at me with his lord’s sword; and had not mine, with my sword, interposed himself, I had been slain by those base hands; although my Lord Bruce, weltering in his blood, and past all expectation of life, comformable to all his former carriage, which was undoubtedly noble, cried out: “Rascal, hold thy hand!”’
Thus miserably, a victim of passion, died a young nobleman who might otherwise have lived a long and useful life. Being childless, his title and estates went to his next brother, Thomas. Through what means it came about, we cannot tell, but possibly it might be in consequence of some recollection of a well-known circumstance in the history of a former great man of his family, King Robert Bruce, the heart of Edward Lord Kinloss was enclosed in a silver case, brought to Scotland, and deposited in the abbey-church of Culross, near the family seat. The tale of the Silver Heart had faded into a family tradition of a very obscure character, when, in 1808, this sad relic was discovered, bearing on the exterior the name of the unfortunate duellist, and containing what was believed to be the remains of a human heart. It was again deposited in its original place, with an inscription calculated to make the matter clear to posterity. The Bruce motto, Fuimus, is also seen on the wall, conveying to the visitor an indescribable feeling of melancholy, as he reflects on the stormy passion which once swelled the organ now resting within, and the wild details of that deadly quarrel of days long gone by.
Silver Heart in Culross Abbey-church.
1613.
‘The unfortunate Lord Bruce saw distinctly the figure or impression of a mort-head, on the looking-glass in his chamber, that very morning he set out for the fatal place of rendezvous, where he lost his life in a duel; and asked of some that stood by him if they observed that strange appearance: which they answered in the negative. His remains were interred at Bergen-op-Zoom, over which a monument was erected, with the emblem of a looking-glass impressed with a mort-head, to perpetuate the surprising representation which seemed to indicate his approaching untimely end. I had this narration from a field-officer, whose honour and candour is beyond suspicion, as he had it from General Stuart in the Dutch service. The monument stood entire for a long time, until it was partly defaced when that strong place was reduced by the weakness or treachery of Cronstrom, the governor.’—Theophilus Insulanus’s Treatise on the Second-Sight. 1763.
Sep. 11.