ied by his peers, and, strange to say, acquitted.
On his last acquittal he spoke gracefully before the Peers, expressing
great contrition for the disgrace which he had brought upon his order,
and promising to efface it by a better course of life. For some time
this able but depraved nobleman kept to his resolution, and studied the
constitution of his country.[49] He became a bold and eloquent speaker
in the House on the side of the Whigs; and he had attained a
considerable popularity, when the affair with the Duke of Hamilton
finished his career before the age of thirty.[50]

A family dispute, exasperated by the different sides taken by these two
noblemen in Parliament, was the cause of an event which deprived the
Jacobite party of one of their most valuable and most moderate leaders;
for had the counsels of the Duke of Hamilton prevailed, the Chevalier
would never have undertaken the futile invasion of 1708, nor perhaps
have engaged in the succeeding attempt in 1715. Upon the fortunes of the
Earl of Mar, the death of the Duke so far operated that it was not until
all fear of offending the powerful and popular Hamilton was ended by his
tragical death, that the appointment of Secretary was conferred upon his
rival. The Whigs were calumniously suspected of having had some unfair
share in the death of the Duke,--an event which took place in the
following manner.

Certain offensive words spoken by Lord Mohun in the chambers of a Master
in Chancery, and addressed to the Duke of Hamilton, brought a
long-standing enmity into open hostility. On the part of Lord Mohun,
General Macartney was sent to convey a challenge to the Duke, and the
place of meeting, time, and other preliminaries were settled by
Macartney and the Duke over a bottle of claret, at the Rose Tavern, in
Covent Garden. The hour of eight on the following day was fixed for the
encounter, and on the fatal morning the Duke drove to the lodgings of
his friend, Colonel Hamilton, who acted as his second, in Charing Cross,
and hurried him away. It was afterwards deposed, that on setting out,
the Colonel, in his haste, forgot his sword; upon which the Duke stopped
the carriage, and taking his keys from his pocket, desired his servant
to go to a certain closet in his house, and to bring his mourning-sword,
which was accordingly done. This was regarded as a fatal omen in those
days, in which, as Addison describes, a belief in such indications
existed.

The Duke then drov