mined murder on each side. Gentlemen talk of the dignity of honour, and the sacredness of character, without reflecting that there can be no honour in deliberate murder, no purity of character in a murderer ! The man who sends a challenge to another does but say, in other words, I am a professed murderer. I mean to send you into the other world, with all your imperfections on your head. But I am a man of honour-though I will not take a purse, I will cut a throat. I will do every thing in my power to deprive you of life, and to make your friends and relations wretched for life. If I fall by your hands my friends will be equally miserable :but no matter the laws of honour demand that we should be murderers, and we are both too wise to obey the laws of our God.'

Horrid practice! disgraceful to our country, and equally contrary to all Divine and human institutions!It is to be hoped the time will come when the legislature shall decree that every man who is base enough to send a challenge shall be doomed to suffer death as a murderer. Let no fear be entertained that this can derogate from our national character of genuine courage. Nothing is more true than the observation of the poet, that

'Cowards are cruel, but the brave
Love mercy, and delight to save.'
This abhorred and sanguinary

practice offers to the understanding, in the influence it is found to have over strong and enlightened minds, a paradox most bewildering and humiliating. While reason and common sense exclaim against the folly of duelling-while religion, in its loudest voice, condemns its iniquity-while the laws of a nation load it with penalties, and rank it as a foul crime-while the popular cry is loud against its mischiefs, and when no one is hardy enough to defend it; we daily hear that men of the first rank in society make this appeal to violence, fearless of legal prevention and legal penalties. Husbands and fathers leave their wives and children in their morning's slumber, steal from their pillows to obey the false dictates of honour, and too often, as their families rise from their beds, are they presented with the bleeding bodies of their protectors. We see, too, seconds in this scene of blood, with daring effrontery, retailing in the public prints the particulars of the cruel encounter. In some of the republican states of America these outrages to all the parties are punished with confiscation of their lands, and banishment, even ou proof of sending or accepting of a challenge.* In many other parts of the world, duelling meets with severer punishment than that inflicted by the laws of England. The lands of the murderer, at least,

should be divided between the injured country and the miserable family of the fallen. The English laws prepare an adequate punish ment for every offence except duel ling, for which the murderer too often escapes with impunity.

In addition to the horrors which this practice, unworthily styled 'fashionable satisfaction,' creates, it generally generates among friends of long standing. Such were, previous to this fatal quarrel, Sir Cholmondeley Deering and Mr. Thornhill, who had dined together on the 7th of April, 1711, in company with several other gentlemen, at the Toy, at Hampton Court, where a quarrel rose, which occasioned the unhappy catastrophe that afterwards occurred.

During the quarrel Sir Cholmondeley struck Mr. Thornhill, and a scuffle ensuing, the wainscot of the room broke down, and Thornhill falling, the other stamped on him, and beat out some of his teeth. The company now interposing, Sir Cholmondeley, convinced that he had acted improperly, declared that he was willing to ask pardon; but Mr. Thornhill said, that asking pardon was not a proper retaliation for the injury that he had received; adding, Sir Cholmondeley, you know where to find me.' Soon af

ter this the company broke up, and the parties went home in different coaches, without any farther steps being taken towards their reconciliation.

On the 9th of April, Sir Cholmondeley went to the coffee-house at Kensington, and asked for Mr. Thornhill, who not being there, he went to his lodgings, and the servant showed him to the diningroom; to which he ascended with a brace of pistols in his hands, and soon afterwards Mr. Thornhill coming to him, asked him if he

would drink tea, which he declined, but drank a glass of small beer.

After this the gentlemen ordered a hackney-coach, in which they went to Tothill Fields, and there advanced towards each other in a resolute manner, and fired their pistols almost in the same moment.

Sir Cholmondeley, being mora tally wounded, fell to the ground; and Mr. Thornhill, after lamenting the unhappy catastrophe, was going away, when a person stopped him, told him he had been guilty of murder, and took him before a justice of the peace, who committed him to prison.

On the 18th of May, 1711, Richard Thornhill, Esq. was indicted at the Old Bailey sessions for this murder. In the course of this trial the above recited facts were proved, and a letter was produeed, of which the following is a copy:

April 8th, 1711.

'Sir-I shall be able to go abroad to-morrow morning, and desire you will give me a meeting with your sword and pistols, which I insist on. The worthy gentleman who brings you this will concert with you the time and place. I think Tothill Fields will do well; Hyde Park will not, at this time of year, being full of company. I am

"Your humble Servant,

"RICHARD THORNHILL.' Mr. Thornhill's servant swore that he believed this letter to be his master's hand-writing; but Mr. Thornhill hoped the jury would not pay any regard to this testimony, as the boy had acknowledged in court that he never saw him write.

Mr. Thornhill called several witnesses to prove how ill he had been used by Sir Cholmondeley; that he had languished some time of the

In the case of this malefactor we see, in a striking light, the fatal consequences of lying; for if, after she had first defrauded her mistresses, she had possessed grace sufficient to have acknowledged her crime, she would probably have been forgiven, and her repentance would have secured her peace of mind during her future life: but the concealing her faults by lying naturally led her to the commission

of greater crimes, which ended in her final destruction. Of all crimes lying is one of the meanest, and ought to be studiously avoided by those who wish to be happy in this world or the next. Very true is the observation of the poet :

'But liars we can never trust,

Tho' they should speak the thing that's

true;

And he that does one fault at first,

And lies to hide it, inakes it two.'

57

agin

No occurrence, short of a national misfortune, at this time engaged the public equal to the memorable duel between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun; and no crime of this nature was ever committed with more sanguinary

VOL. I.

dispositions. The principals murdered each other, and Mr. Hamil. ton was one of the seconds.

John Hamilton, Esq. of St. Martin's in the Fields, was indicted at the sessions held at the Old Bailey on the 11th of September,

5

1712, for the murder of Charles Lord Mohun, Baron of Oakhampton, on the 15th of November, preceding; and at the same time he was indicted for abetting Charles Lord Mohun, and George Macartney, Esq. in the murder of James Duke of Hamilton and Brandon; and having pleaded not guilty? to these indictments, the evidence proceeded to give their testimony, in substance as follows:

Rice Williams, footman to Lord. Mohun, proved that his master having met the Duke of Hamilton at the chambers of a master in chancery, on Thursday the 13th of November, a misunderstanding arose between them respecting the testimony of an evidence. That

when his lord came home at night, he ordered that no person should be admitted to speak with him the next morning except Mr. Macartney. That on the Saturday morning, about seven o'clock, this evidence, having some suspicion that mischief would ensue, went towards Hyde Park, and, seeing the Duke of Hamilton's coach going that way, he got over the Park-wall; but, just as he arrived at the place where the duellists were engaged, he saw both the noblemen fall, and two gentlemen near them, whom he took to be the seconds; one of whom he knew to be Mr. Macartney, and the other (but he could not swear it was the prisoner) said 'We have made a fine piece of work of it.'

The waiters at two different taverns proved that the deceased noblemen and their seconds had been at those taverns; and, from what could be collected from their behaviour, it appeared that a quarrel had taken place, and that a duel was in agitation; and some of the duke's servants and other witnesses deposed to a variety of par

ticulars, all which tended to the same conclusion.

But the evidence who saw most of the transaction was William Morris, a groom, who deposed that, as he was walking his horses towards Hyde Park, he followed » hackney-coach with two gentlemen in it, whom he saw alight by the Lodge, and walk together towards the left part of the ring, where they were about a quarter of an hour, when he saw two other gen. tlemen come to them; that, after having saluted cach other, one of them, who he was since told was the Duke of Hamilton, threw off his cloak, and one of the other two, who he now understands was Lord Mohun, his surtout coat, and all immediately drew; that the duke and lord pushed at each other but a very little while, when the duke closed, and took the lord by the collar, who fell down and groaned, and the duke fell upon him; that just as Lord Mohun was dropping, he saw him lay hold of the duke's sword, but could not tell whether the sword was at that time in his body; nor did he see any wound given after the closing, and was sure Lord Mohun did not shorten his sword. He declared he did not see the seconds fight, but they had their swords in their hands, assisting their lords.'

Paul Boussier, a surgeon, swore that, on opening the body of the Duke of Hamilton, he found a wound between the second and third ribs, which entered into the body, inclining to the right side, which could not be given but by some push from above.

Henry Amie, a surgeon, swore that he found the Duke of Hamil. ton had received a wound by a push, which had cut the artery and small tendon of his right arm; an. other very large one in his right leg;