(This is another chapter from my historical novel of the mid-18th century. Wilkes, Churchill and Sackville are genuine historical characters; the others are imaginary)
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One day when I entered
Child’s club I discovered Lord Staines in a state of great excitement. He
brandished a paper at me, and asked me whether I had read it. I saw it was a
magazine called the “North Briton”, which everyone knew to be written by John Wilkes,
Member of Parliament for Aylesbury. I had often read it with amusement, and
considered that it was a true friend of English liberty, though I had not yet
seen the most recent issue. Staines told me, with such fury that his hands
shook, that it contained a libellous attack upon him. When I took it from him
to read it, I saw that it suggested that he was the catamite of Lord George
Sackville, for whose sake, I recalled, he had resigned his commission in the
army. The names were spelt thus: Lord S*****s and Lord G****e S******e, but
anyone who was acquainted with public affairs would instantly know who was
meant. I told him that such low
degraded stuff was beneath his attention, and best ignored; and that I was sure
that his father would have given the same advice; but he said he had already
written to Mr Wilkes, the supposed author, demanding an apology; but having
received none, he was determined on a duel; so he had issued a challenge, and
wished me to be his second.
Accordingly, a few days later, immediately
after sunrise, we took a coach out to Putney Heath. It was a bright morning,
but cold. Dew lay heavy on the grass, and glittered on cobwebs on the bushes.
There was no-one in sight except our opponent and his second, and another man I
did not know, but was told he was one Doctor Blake, who was there in the event
of any serious injury.
It was my first sight of the celebrated Mr
Wilkes. He was well dressed and slender of build, but his face was disfigured
by the most violent squint, which caused his eyes to point in clean opposite
directions. He talked merrily, and appeared entirely unperturbed by the peril
of his situation. His second was a large, burly fellow; and I was astonished to
discover that under his cloak he wore a clergyman’s gown. I was informed that
this was the Reverend Charles Churchill, the popular poet who was said to be Mr
Wilkes’s assistant at the “North Briton”.
Doctor Blake then asked whether the two
gentlemen were determined to proceed with the duel. Lord Staines replied, with
no little heat, that his honour had been most grossly traduced, and that
nothing but the most profuse and abject apology would satisfy him. Mr Wilkes
appeared to make light of the whole matter. He said that Lord Staines could
produce no evidence that he, Wilkes, was the author of the offending article,
but having read it, his opinion was that it contained more than a grain of
truth; and, furthermore, since Lord Staines had seen fit publicly to dub him a
liar and a scoundrel, he was the one entitled to an apology. These words
angered Lord Staines even more, which was undoubtedly Wilkes’s intention.
A case was produced and opened, containing a
brace of very fine silver-mounted pistols. Churchill and I checked that they
were properly loaded. I attempted to hold my hands steady, lest I revealed my
fear by allowing them to shake: it was the first time I had ever witnessed a
duel.
Lord Staines and Mr Wilkes walked twelve
paces apart, then turned and presented their pistols. Lord Staines fired first,
and grazed his opponent’s coat, but did no further harm.
Mr Wilkes did not seemin the least perturbed by this narrow miss. He then levelled his pistol at Lord Staines's beast, and held it there for what appeared an age,with a glint in his eye. Staines, I was impressed to see, did not flinch, but stood motionless, regarding his opponent with a cold stare. At last Wilkes, with a laugh, deliberately fired at the ground, so that his bullet skipped across the earth
by Lord Staines’s feet. He then laughed and walked forward with his hand outstretched, congratulating Staines on his fine courage. Staines did not take the proffered hand, instead intending to reload and fire again; but Mr
Churchill announced that, in his decided opinion, sufficient satisfaction
had been given and that the business had been ended with perfect honour to both
parties. He proposed that we should all adjourn to a nearby tavern and drink
some wine. I agreed with this, and so did Doctor Blake; but Lord Staines said
this was no kind of apology, and, again refusing Wilkes’s hand, departed forthwith,
not even giving me a glance.
Doctor Blake did not stay long, but I
remained at the tavern with Wilkes and Churchill for the remainder of the
morning. I discovered Mr Wilkes to be the most engaging of companions. It was
not, I found, his first duel; for he had been challenged by Lord Talbot over a
previous article in the same magazine, and that too had passed without blood
being shed.
I saw much of him over the
next few months, and read the “North Briton” with great enjoyment...
