Madder, Badder and More Dangerous
Today, 26th January, is the anniversary of a notorious sword fight which took place in 1765 in a London pub and resulted in the death of a man called William Chaworth. His killer was William, 5th Baron Byron, a loose cannon of a man who was known as “the Wicked Lord” or “the Devil Byron”, epithets which he liked and indeed encouraged. Byron was the great uncle of the famed poet and adventurer who succeeded him to the Baronetcy in 1798, the 5th Baron’s own son and grandson both having pre-deceased him.
Byron and Chaworth had been drinking in the Star and Garter tavern (sometimes described as a hotel) in Pall Mall. They had neighbouring estates in Nottinghamshire and indeed were kinsmen. They were in the company of other Nottinghamshire worthies who met for dinner and drinks every month. Fully refreshed with wine, the two men got into an argument about wildlife management, and specifically who had more deer on his estate. They decided to have it out with swords in an upstairs room of the pub and Chaworth was mortally wounded, dying the following day. Byron, far from showing any contrition, mounted his sword in pride of place on the wall in his home. He was found guilty of manslaughter by his peers in Westminster Hall and given a small fine. One would love to have been a fly on the wall on the fateful day. There is a fuller account based on contemporary articles here.
On another occasion, Byron killed his own coachman, plonking the dead man’s body on top of his wife as he continued the journey at the reins himself. In the 1770s he expended much energy destroying his own estate, Newstead Abbey, in order to ensure that his estranged son (who had eloped with his own first cousin) inherited only debt. This backfired badly when the young man died in 1776: Byron didn’t really think that one through.
On the plus side, the Wicked Lord was a founding Governor of the Foundling Hospital.
For another famous duel on this blog, read Pistols in Putney.
When I read stories like that, I yearn for a hero to step from behind a tree and give the villain the trouncing he deserves. Unfortunately this happens only in novels and films. Life is never so tidily just.
Is there any real difference between duels and the drunken killings that happen all too often in our own era? For me, there isn’t. Weapons and inflated egos (add a dash of alcohol to taste) were always a sinister combination.
I recall that even the much admired Duke of Wellington was involved in a famous pistol duel though, happily, both parties survived, having both missed their targets, whether accidentally or on purpose, and lived to settle their differences by agreement.
I don’t suppose there is much material difference when it boils down to it to the modern “meet me outside” (not much, if any, of that at the pubs I use!). That too is about insult, reputation, satisfaction and all the rest of it. But I don’t think we can equate duelling with modern gang kulcha stabbings and shootings except highly superficially although there does seem to be the “respect” = “reputation” thing going on. More accurate equivalence of that might be found in the gangs of the early 18C – Mohocks, Muns, Hectors etc. But I’m not that much of a social historian.
I am digging deeper into all this duelling business, such fun, so there will be more.