End of the duel man date – An Irishman’s Diary about duelling and roadworks

I was somewhat alarmed this week to hear that two Irish companies had won a lucrative “duelling” contract in Scotland. Or at least that’s what I thought I’d heard. There was, after all, a certain historic plausibility to the news.

In past centuries, Ireland played a leading role in the practice whereby gentlemen resolved their differences by the exchange of gunshots and other lethal remedies. The tactic was paradoxically popular among lawyers when faced with situations – often involving the honour of women – for which mere law was deemed inadequate.

Indeed one of the most famous documents of the era, the “Irish Code Duello”, was drawn up on the occasion of the Clonmel Assizes of 1777. Governing behaviour before, during, and after duels, it stipulated, for example, that once participants had taken up firing positions, it was too late for apologies. They must then make a sincere attempt to kill or maim each other (“no dumb firing”) before further negotiations might be considered. The document was very influential for a time, and not just in Ireland. In the American colonies, it was considered an advance on the savagery with which similar disputes had been settled previously. As for the popularity of duelling in Ireland back then, there were 19 companies in Dublin alone making or selling pistols for the purpose.

But as to what two modern Irish companies would do as part of a “duelling contract”, in Scotland or elsewhere, I couldn’t imagine. So it was a great relief, except to the part of me that loves the English language, when I realised that the word in question was “dualling”.

It had somehow escaped me until then that there was a verb “to dual”. But there is, apparently, at least in civil engineering. It means to make a dual carriageway out of an existing, single-carriage road.

And this still sounds wrong to my ears. Even so, if nobody is killed or injured in the process, who’s to complain? The rise of dualling-with-an-a at the expense of duelling-with-an-e is a net gain for humanity. So I can only congratulate Wills Brothers and John Paul Construction on their £35 million contract and wish them well on their important work on the A9 between Perth and Inverness.

Never mind Waterloo, by the way, this year also marks the bicentenary of an event that was the beginning of the end for duelling-with-an-e in Ireland, involving as it did not just a lawyer, but the most famous Irish lawyer of all, Daniel O’Connell.

For a deadly affair, it began in rather innocuous fashion when, on January 22nd, 1815, O’Connell made a speech referring to Dublin Corporation as “beggarly”. It has been called worse things, before and since. But the insult struck a nerve then, because no fewer than eight members of the body had been declared insolvent at one time or other.

There was also growing tension generally between the still all-Protestant Corporation and O’Connell’s Catholic movement. In this context, a young alderman named John d’Esterre wrote to O’Connell demanding apology. And when O’Connell instead repeated his sentiments, with added feeling, the situation escalated.

By January 31st, D’Esterre was seen striding through Dublin, en route to the Four Courts, with a horsewhip. A showdown, and a riot between rival supporters, was averted. But on February 1st, representatives of both men met and agreed a duel for later that day.

D’Esterre had been an officer in the Royal Marines and was reputed as a crack shot. As the duel neared, however, his demeanour did not suggest great confidence. The suspicion afterwards was that he had been provoked by parties who saw the chance to get rid of O’Connell and took advantage of D’Esterre’s political ambitions to egg him on. Still, both duellists appeared to be in excellent spirits when they met, at Bishop’s Court, Co Kildare, watched by several hundred people who had sped out of Dublin at the news. D’Esterre shot first and missed, O’Connell a moment afterwards, hitting his target in the hip. Despite much blood, nobody considered the wound fatal. The wound disagreed; two days later, D’Esterre was dead.

Far from enjoying his success, it seems, O’Connell was ever afterwards riven by guilt. He offered the young widow half his income, which she refused. But years later, hearing she had taken a lawsuit in Cork, he dropped his own work to represent her. He never passed D’Esterre’s house subsequently without blessing himself. And when attending Mass, he took to wearing a single black glove, to spare God from seeing the hand that fired the shot.

@FrankmcnallyIT