Bring Back the Duel

The last duel in Britain was fought in 1852, but the practice is still lodged in our public consciousness. Trial-by-combat is a regular feature in historical dramas from Hamilton to Barry Lyndon. Duelling scars run across the faces and limbs of the most divisive characters in history, and bullets lodged in vital organs have marked the ends of many great lives. It is not difficult to imagine the ten paces and puffs of gunsmoke that characterise movie duels or the morning sun reflecting off rapier steel (à la The Princess Bride). The duel, however, once served a very real social function. The duellist’s willingness to risk death in order to defend their honour and prove their courage kept the aristocracy in check and placed hard limits on the slanderous press. 

One country demonstrates the social utility of the duel particularly well. Uruguay — in an interesting counterexample to the rest of the world — retained the legal use of the duel into the 1990s, making it the last country on Earth to ban the practice. Uruguayans were still clashing rapiers when Bill Clinton was elected president. According to historian Dr David Parker, the duel remained legal through the twentieth century for two reasons. First, the machismo and strict codes of honour present in South American politics meant that the practice would have continued illegally anyway, as no self-respecting gentleman (or lady, as was sometimes the case) would refuse a thrown gauntlet. Second, and more importantly, Uruguayans saw duelling as a democratic practice. It was a means by which everyday citizens could challenge politicians and partisan journalists for ignoring their rights and slandering their names. As Parker argues, “The duel’s apogee came right at the time when Uruguay was [...] the region’s most liberal and progressive state.” No one — from a president to a lowly Viewpoint writer — was beyond a challenge.

The real practice of duelling in the nineteenth century, unlike the fatal encounters we see on screen, operated according to a very strict and ancient code. This code duello, which originated in Italy but was used across Europe and America, ensured that duels only rarely resulted in death. In the example of Uruguay, one duel-related death is recorded on average per decade throughout the last century. A duel could only be proposed in response to serious wrongdoing, and challenges were reviewed by lawyers like a lawsuit. A duelist’s ‘second’ inspected the weapon before the match to ensure no foul play. These guidelines remained in place even in the notoriously violent American South, where most pistol bouts ended after two shots. The very real threat of death, enough to ensure a duel was never taken lightly, was seldom realised in practice.

Our university came of age with the fencing duel in the Renaissance, and St Andreans were once renowned across Europe for their skill with the rapier. James Crichton of the class of 1574, known as “the admirable Crichton” for his humanist learning, met a highly publicised end in a duel with his friend the Duke of Mantua. According to legend, Crichton bested the duke but gave him his sword as a sign of friendship. The duke took the sword and slew his old friend, cementing not only his infamy but also the reputation of St Andrews alumni as noble and self-sacrificing people. Indeed, duelling has continued to the present at this university, albeit under different circumstances. One former St Andrews duellist claims his “dispute [was] dealt with hastily and effectively, with minimal physical injury, and utmost decorum upheld.” A much better solution than throwing punches outside Aikman’s. 

Rather than an outdated mode of violence, the duel provided an important social function. It restrained the worst excesses of tabloid journalism and could keep the rich and powerful in check in the name of honour. With strict rules of conduct and legal oversight, the duel only rarely proved fatal. Considering these facts, and our own university’s noble history of duelling, it is clear that its return could only be a positive. I invite anyone who disagrees to pick up their rapier.

Illustration by Magdalena Yiacoumi