at Farnborough last year. There was much
slashing and hewing. The veteran received
three cuts early in the fight; but, as both
wore steel caps under their hats, there was no
very serious danger to be looked for. The other
gentleman had been pierced in the thigh, but so
as to cause him serious inconvenience. At last
the veteran, growing tired of the struggle,
closed upon his adversary, stabbed his horse
several times and, with his dagger at his enemy's
throat, was proclaimed the victor. Curious to
say, the well intentioned purpose of the judicious
friends who arranged the meeting was happily
carried out, for they became sworn friends
on the very field.

It was within the Irish barristerial ranks,
in the sacred order whose province was the
vindication, and the interpretation of the law,
that this violation of its strictest injunctions
was carried out. The priests and preachers of
the Legal Temple were by far the most daring
sinners. The judges of the land—where their
arguments failed to convince, and were fortified
by a tone and expression derived from no higher
source than the mere accident of exalted position
—were willing to gauge the issue by a fairer
test. There is a list of legal worthies preserved,
who have adopted this impartial mode of
arrangement.

Another list has been handed down of the
more notable encounters. We find a Lord
Chancellor fighting a Master of the Rolls; a Chief
Justice fighting two peers and two other
gentlemen; a local Judge fighting a Master of the
Rolls and four others; a Baron of the Exchequer
fighting his own brother–in–law and two others;
a Chancellor of the Exchequer fighting a Privy
Councillor; a Provost of College fighting a
Master in Chancery; and another Chief Justice
disposing of three gentlemen from the country,
one with swords, another with guns, wounding
all three. So repeated were these little differences
in the case of the well–known Lord Norbury,
that he was happily said to have "shot
up" into preferment. It strikes the modern
mind with astonishment—the mind that has not
as yet become "more Irish and less nice"—to
see the intimate manner in which these two departments
of the profession were linked together.
A nice capacity for pleading, and a nice eye for
levelling, were equally essential. It would be
madness, indeed, to be deficient in. either, when
there was to be found a noble lord who, being
worsted in a series of suits, determined to vindicate
himself by calling out, seriatim, the dozen
barristers or so who were retained on the other
side. Commencing with the attorney and distributing
the parts among his own sons, he disposed
of three, when some circumstances interfered
and checked his further progress. Counsel
often fell out on circuit, would leave court
and hurry to an adjoining field, "blaze" and
return (if the issue admitted of it) to the
court, where judge and jury were anxiously
expecting them. A perfect chronicle of duelling,
taken on its facetious as well as on its
serious side, may be found set out in detail
in Sir Jonah Barrington's volumes, who
enumerates no less than two hundred and twenty–
seven " memorable and official " duels as
having occurred during his "grand climacteric."
So lately as the O'Connell trials, the
Attorney–General prosecuting showed himself
no degenerate member of his order, and wrote
a challenge across the table to his adversary.

Even when sojourning in a strange land, and
under the blighting influence of the cold and
order–loving Saxon, the traditions of his country
did not desert the Irish gentleman. In the little
pugnacious entries in the London Chronicle,
which were as invariably recorded as the births
and marriages, the exiled Hibernian took his part
not ingloriously. He turns up, often playing
principal, very often second. His known
experience made him an invaluable assistant, or
even arbitrator. The inexperienced Saxon was
grateful for his services. Thus, in the year
'seventeen seventy–seven, where my Lord Milton
met my Lord Poulett "this morning at ten
o'clock," my Lord Poulett was fortunate enough
to secure "Captain Kelly's" advice and aid as
his second. The artificial ties of kindred—often
carried to an absurd extent—were, in the case
of unhappy Irish differences, no bar to a happy
adjustment according to the laws of honour.
Thus, "a duel was this day fought (in 'seventeen
sixty–three) between two brothers, Irish
gentlemen, in Kensington gravel–pits, in which one
received so dangerous a wound that his life is
despaired of." This quarrel arose out of the
barbarous treatment of a sister by one of her
brothers—she having married an officer against
the wishes of the family. Again, the rather
shabby protection afforded by what is called
"the cloth" was not allowed to avail; or, at
least, was gracefully waved by the offender. The
instance of the Reverend Mr. Hill is full of
instruction. In 'seventeen sixty–four, "a duel
was fought in Epping forest between Colonel
Gardiner of the Carabineers, and the Reverend
Mr. Hill, Chaplain to Bland's Dragoons, when
the latter received a wound of which he died
two days later. Mr. Hill," continues the obituary
notice, "was an Irish gentleman of good
address, great sprightliness, and an excellent
talent in preaching, but rather of too volatile a
turn for his profession."

The misunderstanding between Lords Townshend
and Bellamont, which occurred in the year
seventeen hundred and seventy–two, was, indeed,
a model difficulty. As an "affair of honour,"
arising out of no vulgar incidents of assault and
battery or strong personal language; as one
negotiated through all its stages with a rare
delicacy; and, finally, as one brought to a satisfactory
issue upon the field, it takes rank among
the highest on record. As exhibiting the supremest
niceties which then regulated the code
of honour, it deserves our careful study. The
details of this famous transaction, which filled
the newspapers of the time, were something in
this wise:

Lord Townshend was Lord–Lieutenant of
Ireland, lived in the Castle of Dublin, received