Was duelling only for the upper classes?
The English upper classes desperately wanted duelling to remain elite. By the 19th century, however, a growing group of professionals thought they had as much right as anyone else to defend their reputations at pistol-point. These were men who valued their good name because it was etched on an office door, not on a family crest. Did this mean anyone with a business card could issue a challenge? Aristocratic Englishmen did not wish to find out. For them, a duel involving two linendrapers in 1838 was the last straw. Duelling had become a farce.
Elsewhere, duellists’ progress toward equality took different detours. In post-Revolutionary France, republican newspaper editors frequently crossed blades with blue-blooded monarchists. Across the continent, where the sword never fell out of favour, duelling ultimately became a sport that naturally valued great skill over high birth. And, in the fledgling United States, where the standards for duellists became looser as one travelled west, a lawman’s skill with a colt revolver might be his only professional prerequisite.
No such liberties or looseness were permitted on British soil. By 1844, hundreds of noble names – including the Duke of Wellington’s – had appeared on an anti-duelling declaration. No more lawyers, no more doctors, and definitely no more linendrapers would have a chance to improve their standing by fighting a duel. Of course, the English middle classes promptly claimed all the credit for having eradicated the aristocratic vice of duelling.
So, who won in the end? Perhaps it was a draw.