To the Editor of the American Phrenological Journal.

Having examined the heads of several gentlemen, since I have been in the southern states, who have fought duels, I have been struck with the fact, that most of them have Combativeness moderately developed, Cautiousness large, and Approbativeness very large. This has led me to reflect upon the principles in our nature which instigate and keep up the practice of duelling.

Duelling is a pretended display of courage, personal prowess, or bravery, in defence of one’s character and honour. But it strikes me that, on phrenological principles, with such an organisation as I have alluded to, a man can be neither truly brave nor courageous, natural fear or actual cowardice being the more legitimate result of such a conformation. Hence it would follow, if we are permitted to take the cases alluded to as proper data from which to reason, that the fighting of duels is no test of courage at all; but rather the result of fear, or (as I shall hereafter show) they generally evince a want of moral courage in those who engage in them; and this view, if I mistake not, exactly corresponds with the popular notion upon this subject. But suppose they did display courage; what then? What is this boasted courage, of which we hear so much?

Courage may be divided into two kinds—physical and moral. The former, when analysed, will be found to consist mainly in the exercise of Combativeness; and this is one of the lower propensities, common to man and brute. Of course, then, physical courage is a low passion; and one that is often displayed in the bull-dog or game-cock far more powerfully than in the most gallant knight that ever shivered a lance, or the most renowned hero that ever waded to the temple of fame through fields of carnage and blood. But moral courage, which is made up of Combativeness, Firmness, Self-esteem, and the higher sentiments, and which enables us to go boldly forward in our own integrity and strength, and on all occasions support the right, and do whatever Conscientiousness, Benevolence, affection, and the reasoning faculties dictate, is an exalted feeling—a noble sentiment—and none can show too much of it; for, since it cannot be exercised but in a worthy cause, it is incapable of being perverted or abused.

The manifestation of physical courage is proper when exerted in defence of our natural rights; but is very liable to be abused, and when misdirected, instead of its being a virtue, it becomes one of the worst of vices. Man is not the natural enemy of man; and we live in a community which professes to be regulated by wholesome laws. Therefore, when one man voluntarily turns this instrument of defence against his fellow-man, or exercises it improperly upon a brute, he tramples upon the laws, and is justly held amenable and punishable. Such a manifestation of Combativeness or courage is a plain perversion of a naturally good faculty, and becomes odious and sinful; and such I cannot but conceive to be the kind of manifestation of this feeling which generally takes place in duelling.

“But,” says the advocate of duelling, “must I submit, then, when I am insulted, to be disgraced?” Certainly not, sir; but, in order to preserve your character from infamy, you should be careful not to employ means which, instead of rescuing it, actually adds to its degradation; or, in other words, in order to preserve your honour, you should not resort to means really dishonourable.

But with the view to appreciate the weight of this subject, I have endeavoured to bring it home to myself, and consider what reply I would make in case I should be challenged. In our country, where we have no Court of Honour, (an institution, by the way, which I think ought to be set up,) I would say to the challenger, “Sir, if you think yourself injured or insulted beyond the redress of civil laws, I am willing to submit the case to gentlemen of honourable standing, and settle it according to their decision.” If he would not listen to this proposal, but still insisted on fighting, I would say to him, “Sir, neither my conscience nor my judgment will allow me to be so fool-hardy as to throw my life away by meeting a man who seeks my blood, nor will my humanity nor my moral feelings allow me to imbrue my hands in the blood of a fellow-being.”

Should he then call me a coward, I would reply, “Sir, you show no proof of it. I hold that fighting duels is more frequently an evidence of a want of moral courage, than a proof of physical courage. If, by my course, I display no proof of the latter, I certainly do of the former, by thus braving public opinion on a point which I consider wrong. But suppose you did thus prove my want of physical courage, you only show that my intellectual and moral faculties are stronger than my brute propensities; and is this a disgrace to a rational being?” Let the advocates of this practice say what they will in vindication of it, and attempt to justify it on the ground of its expediency, necessity, &c., the fact is, all their reasonings upon the subject are shallow, sophistical, and disgraceful in a civilised, or more especially Christian community.

The only proper grounds on which to meet the question, are its reasonableness and its justice. Is it rational? is it right? In a barbarous community, where might is held as the only grounds of right, the doctrine might meet with favour; but among us, who reject such a principle of action, and who profess to be governed by established laws, it is evidently irrational; nay, a gross neglect of duty in those who profess to administer our laws, to permit individuals thus to set them at defiance, and under the excitement of passion execute vengeance on each other. But, on the scope of right, the question does not admit of debate. Not only do the principles of our holy religion, in the broadest and most direct terms, condemn all such practices as sinful, but every moral principle of our nature revolts at them. True, were we to suppress the influence of our moral sentiments, and exercise our reasoning faculties in connection with our selfish propensities only, we might say, “injury for injury,” “blow for blow;” but even then we could not say, “death for insult,” for there is no comparison between the two. An insult is limited in its consequence to time; death reaches to eternity. But phrenology teaches us, that we have no right to settle a question of this nature, without exercising our reasoning faculties in connection with the moral sentiments; and I defy any one to prove that the latter ever sanctioned duelling. Nothing can be clearer than that to decline a challenge would be an act of moral courage, and as much more honourable than to accept, as the moral feelings are above the animal instincts. If, therefore, any one choose to differ with me in opinion upon this point, he is welcome to do so, and I envy him not his privilege, for I hold mine to be the legitimate conclusion of a rational and moral view of the subject; ergo, the opposite conclusion must spring from the predominance of the brute propensities acting in concert with the intellect.

Again; I am aware that it will be urged, as the most specious argument in favour of duelling, that, in this matter, we are bound to respect public opinion. But it has been clearly shown, that public opinion (or that part of it which still advocates this practice) is unquestionably wrong on this subject; and in this enlightened age, every honest man, and every brave man, is bound to resist public opinion in all matters that interfere with humanity, justice, and moral obligation, and thus set forth the noble example of correcting public opinion. And more especially is it the prerogative of phrenology, above all other sciences, (inasmuch as it enables us clearly to analyse the passions and motives of men,) to wield its giant strength, against those vices which neither civilisation nor Christianity has yet been able to subdue.

Public opinion, forsooth! And what is public opinion? What but an evanescent and a capricious thing—a fickle dame, ever varying, ever changing—that raises a man a hero and a demi-god to-day, and tramples him in the dust as a base wretch and outcast to-morrow? Look at the Protean aspects of public opinion in the different ages of the world, and among the different nations of the earth. Look at public opinion in the different epochs of the Roman empire, and of the Grecian states. Behold its changes. Look at it under the mighty Egyptian, Babylonian, Assyrian, Medean, and Persian dynasties. Compare public opinion at the present day in China, with that in the United States. Compare it among our rude Saxon forefathers, with that which prevailed in the days of William the Conqueror. And in English society, what mighty changes has it not undergone since the days of Henry the Eighth. Look at the changes produced on public opinion by a Solon, a Zoroaster, a Pythagoras, a Homer, a Socrates, or a Plato; an Alexander, a CÆsar, or an Alfred. See the tyrant bow its neck to the mild, but sublime influence of the Gospel, wherever it has been introduced. See it bend again before the influence of philosophy, science, and the arts, and, more especially, before improvements in our political and civil codes. And are we to be told, then, that, amid the full glare of light and knowledge which beams upon us, we are passively and submissively to bow to this capricious tyrant, and not dare to raise our voices against its cruel and absurd edicts? No. Reason forbids it; morality forbids it; Heaven forbids it. Let the light of science and morality, then, clear the mist from our eyes; and let us go on to refine and correct public opinion, until every vestige of barbarism and superstition are expunged from our herald-roll. And what is duelling but a vestige of barbarism that has too long formed a foul blot upon our national escutcheon?

Mobile, March 12th, 1839.