When the defence opened, Captain James Macnamara prayed the court for leave to speak seated. His wound caused him too great an agony to remain upon his feet. The court granted the request without delay. In a low and trembling voice, he addressed the jury sworn to decide whether, in a duel upon Primrose Hill, he had killed Colonel Robert Montgomery.
The indictment concerned the death of Montgomery, who was struck by a ball in the right side on the 6th of April, 1803, in the parish of St Pancras. The trial did not open upon a charge of murder: Macnamara explained that a first grand jury had thrown out that bill. He appeared here in consequence of a coroner’s inquest, upon an indictment for manslaughter, distinguished from murder throughout the proceedings—a legal designation that does not correspond precisely to involuntary homicide. He observed that the inquest had been conducted over the body, before he was yet able to render any account of what had brought him to the field. Mr Knapp laid before the jurors the single question submitted to their judgment: had Montgomery lost his life by the pistol shot discharged by Macnamara at their meeting upon the hill? If so, the counsel concluded, the verdict must be guilty of manslaughter. Knapp conceded, nonetheless, that both gentlemen were held in high esteem: Macnamara had served his King and country with bravery, he said, and Montgomery had well earned the affection of all who knew him. He did not ask the jury to weigh one reputation against the other, but solely to pass judgment upon that shot and that death.
The dispute had its origin in Hyde Park, between four and five o’clock in the afternoon. Colonel Montgomery was riding on horseback in company with William Sloane and the latter’s brother, Stephen. A Newfoundland dog trotted beside the colonel; another dog of the same breed followed a party of mounted gentlemen. The two animals fell to fighting. Montgomery dismounted to part them, then inquired to whom the other beast belonged. Macnamara answered that it was his.
William Sloane heard the colonel declare that he would knock the dog down if it attacked his own. Macnamara asked if he dared utter such a threat against his dog. The colonel repeated that he would strike it if it set upon his. The word “arrogance” then entered the dispute. Sloane recalled that Macnamara used the term several times; he also heard Montgomery say, once he learned he had to do with an officer of the Navy, that if the gentleman were offended, he knew where he was to be found. Under cross-examination, Sloane stated that he had seen no ground to believe Macnamara’s dog had been set on to attack that of the colonel.
Stephen Sloane recollected a more threatening answer from Macnamara: that if Montgomery struck his dog, he must strike him next. Yet he recorded also that the colonel remarked the public park was no place to adjust a private quarrel, and gave his name. Montgomery added that he had no desire to give offence to his interlocutor by defending his dog. Macnamara replied that he took no offence at the remark itself; but that if an affront were intended, he would receive it with the utmost readiness.
Lord Buckhurst came up with the party after the dispute had commenced. He heard Macnamara pronounce the manner in which Montgomery addressed him to be arrogant. The colonel inquired whether he felt himself offended. “No, not by what you said,” Macnamara replied, adding that he would resent any language intended as an affront. He shook his cane, but Buckhurst took the gesture to be involuntary, born of irritation, and in no way directed as a personal insult.
William Sloane parted from Montgomery at the top of St James’s Street, and presently perceived Macnamara’s party turning back. He turned his horse likewise and rejoined the colonel with his brother. Later, he caught sight of Macnamara in Jermyn Street. Montgomery was then some thirty yards from St James’s Church when a gentleman whom Sloane took to be Captain Barry quitted Macnamara to speak with him; Sloane did not see him return. The two parties subsequently met upon Primrose Hill, attended by their seconds and a surgeon.
At Chalk Farm, about half-past six, James Harding, a wine merchant, observed the company ascending the hill. Barry directed a servant to fetch a case from the carriage. Some fifty yards off, Harding made out Sir William Keir and Barry priming and loading the pistols. A shot was discharged into the air to prove that the piece was in order. The two adversaries stepped apart, took their ground facing each other at a distance of about six yards, and fired almost at the same instant. Montgomery fell; Macnamara remained standing.
Harding drew near. Montgomery lay upon the ground; Mr Heaviside, the surgeon, opened his coat and examined the wound in his right side. He rendered him what assistance he could before turning his care to Macnamara. Harding believed he heard it said that Macnamara was wounded also and must be bled. Harding helped to carry the colonel to Chalk Farm. His eyes were fixed; he still groaned. Harding later saw him lying lifeless upon a bed.
Macnamara now called upon the jury to weigh that which, in his submission, had compelled him to the meeting. He protested that he had not gone to the ground out of resentment, nor with any thirst for blood. To his mind, Montgomery’s words, repeated before bystanders, amounted to a challenge which an officer could not decline without the forfeit of his honour. He knew full well, he acknowledged, that religion and reason enjoined obedience to the law; yet he besought the jurors to consider that professional standing upon which depended the authority of a naval captain called to lead men into peril. He averred that he had hoped to obtain an amicable explanation, not to expose both their lives to the hazard of pistol fire.
Macnamara dwelt also upon the disparity between the two men. Montgomery, he observed, was a figure of fashion in London, surrounded by troops of friends; he himself was almost a stranger there, after a lifetime spent upon distant stations in the service of his country. He dreaded the rumours that would pass from mouth to mouth, gathering weight at every repetition. The report that he had refused a meeting would have outstripped any explanation he could offer. In such terms, at least, did he represent to the jury the shadow from which he had sought to defend his name.
In support of his character, Macnamara called several distinguished officers who had known him at sea and in private life. When his counsel asked Lord Hood whether he was an officer of merit, Mr Justice Heath interposed: professional merit was not the question before the court. Erskine amended his question, inquiring instead what Lord Hood knew of the prisoner’s general conduct and disposition. Hood thereupon spoke of him as a mild and moderate man and a thorough gentleman, whom he had promoted in 1794.
Lord Nelson testified that he had known Macnamara nine years and had served alongside him. He accounted him an officer of great worth, who would not suffer an insult to pass unnoticed; yet in all that time, he had never known him to offend man, woman, or child. Lord Hotham, who had known him since 1794, pronounced him irreproachable in every station and as desirable a companion as a man could wish. Lord Minto, who had known him from 1783 to early 1797 and had sailed aboard his ship, remembered him as a cheerful, benevolent man, utterly unapt to take offence or seek a quarrel. Sir Hyde Parker distinguished what he had himself observed from what he had heard reported: he had never found Macnamara quarrelsome, though he knew him to be a man who would not brook an insult. Sir Thomas Troubridge likewise assured the court that he had never perceived in him any disposition to dispute.
Following the summing-up of Mr Justice Heath, the jury retired. They remained in deliberation for some twenty minutes. Upon their return, the foreman pronounced the verdict: not guilty.