Dr. Franklin, in his letter to Mr. Percival, referred to, in my last number, observes, that, “formerly, when duels were used, to determine lawsuits, from an opinion, that Providence would, in every instance, favor truth and right with victory, they were excusable.” Dr. Johnson did not think this species of duel so absurd, as it is commonly supposed to be: “it was only allowed,” said he, “when the question was in equilibrio, and they had a notion that Providence would interfere in favor of him, who was in the right.” Bos., vol. iv. page 14. The lawfulness of a thing may excuse it: but there are some laws, so very absurd, that one stares at them, in the statute book, as he looks at flies in amber, and marvels “how the devil they got there.” There was, I am gravely assured, in the city of New Orleans, not very long ago, a practitioner of the healing art, who was called the Tetotum doctor—he felt no pulse—he examined no tongue—he asked no questions for conscience’ sake, nor for any other—his tetotum was marked with various letters, on its sides—he sat down, in front of the patient, and spun his tetotum—if B. came uppermost, he bled immediately—if P., he gave a purge—if E., an emetic—if C., a clyster, and so on. If there be less wisdom, in this new mode of practice, than in the old wager of Battel, I perceive it not.

Both Drs. Franklin and Johnson refer to it, as an ancient practice. It was supposed, doubtless, to have become obsolete, and a dead letter, extinguished by the mere progress of civilization. Much surprise, therefore, was excited, when, at a period, as late as 1818, an attempt was made to revive it, in the case of Ashford vs. Thornton, tried before the King’s Bench, in April of that year. This was a case of appeal of murder, under the law of England. Thornton had violated, and murdered the sister of Ashford; and, as a last resort, claimed his right to wager of battel. The court, after full consideration, felt themselves obliged to admit the claim, under the unrepealed statute of 9, William II., passed A. D. 1096. Ashford, the appellant, and brother of the unfortunate victim, declined to accept the challenge, and the murderer was accordingly discharged. This occurred, in the 58th year of George III., and a statute was passed, in 1819, putting an end to this terrible absurdity. Had the appellant, the brother, accepted this legalized challenge, what a barbarous exhibition would have been presented to the world, at this late day, through the inadvertence of Parliament, in omitting to repeal this preposterous law!

In a former number, I quoted a sentiment, attributed, by Boswell, to Dr. Johnson, and which, I suppose, was no deliberate conviction of his, but uttered, in the course of his dinner-table talk, for the gratification of Gen. Oglethorpe, “Men have agreed to banish from society, a man, who puts up with an affront without fighting a duel.” This is not asserted, as an independent averment, but assumed or taken for granted, as the basis of the argument, such as it was. Is this a fact? Cannot cases innumerable be stated, to prove, that it is not? The words, ascribed to Dr. Johnson, are not confined to any class or profession, but are of universal application. Have men agreed to banish from society every man, who refuses to fight a duel, when summoned to that refreshing amusement? Let us examine a few cases. General Jackson did not lose caste, because he omitted to challenge Randolph, for pulling his nose. Josiah Quincy was not banished from society, for refusing the challenge of a Southern Hotspur. I believe, that Judge Thacher, of Maine, would have been much less respected, had he gone out to be shot, when invited, than he ever has been, for the very sensible answer to his antagonist, that he would talk to Mrs. Thacher about it, and be guided by her opinion. Nobody ever supposed, that Judge Breckenridge suffered, in character or standing, because he told his challenger, that he wouldn’t come; but, that he might sketch his, the Judge’s, figure, on a board, and fire at that, till he was weary, at any distance he pleased; and if he hit it, upon a certificate of the fact, the Judge would agree to it.

Had Hamilton refused the challenge of Burr, his deliberate murderer, his fame would have remained untarnished—his countrymen would never have forgotten the 14th of October, 1781—the charge of that advanced corps—the fall of Yorktown! On his death-bed, Hamilton expressed his abhorrence of the practice; and solemnly declared, should he survive, never to be engaged in another duel. “Pendleton knows,” said he, in a dying hour, referring to Burr, and addressing Dr. Hossack, “that I did not intend to fire at him.” How different from the blood-thirsty purposes of his assassin! In vol. x. of Jeremy Bentham’s works, pages 432-3, the reader will find a letter from Dumont to Bentham, in which the Frenchman says, referring to a conversation with Burr, in 1808, four years after the duel—“His duel with Hamilton was a savage affair:” and Bentham adds—“He gave me an account of his duel with Hamilton; he was sure of being able to kill him, so I thought it little better than murder.”

In England, politics seem to have given occasion to very many affairs of this nature—the duels of the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun, in 1712, fatal to both—Mr. Martin and Mr. Wilkes, in 1763—the Lords Townshend and Bellamont, in 1773—C. J. Fox and Mr. Adam, in 1779—Capt. Fullerton and Lord Shelburne, in 1780—Lord Macartney and Major General Stuart, in 1786—the Duke of York and Colonel Lenox, in 1789—Mr. Curran and Major Hobart, in 1790—Earl of Lonsdale and Capt. Cuthbert, in 1792—Lord Valentia and Mr. Gawler, in 1796—William Pitt and George Tierney, in 1798—Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Paull, in 1807—Lord Castlereagh and Mr. Canning, in 1809—Mr. O’Connell and Mr. D’Esterre, in 1815—Mr. Grattan and the Earl of Clare, in 1820—Sir A. Boswell and James Stuart, in 1822—Mr. Long Wellesly and Mr. Crespigny, in 1828—the Duke of Wellington and the Earl of Winchelsea, in 1829—Lord Alvanley and Morgan O’Connell, in 1835—Sir Colquhon Grant and Lord Seymour, in 1835—Mr. Roebuck and Mr. Black, in 1835—Mr. Ruthven and Mr. Scott, in 1836—the Earl of Cardigan and Mr. Tuckett, in 1840.

Sir J. Barrington says, that, during his grand climacteric, two hundred and twenty-seven duels were fought. In different ages and nations, various preventives have been employed. Killing in a duel, here and in England, is murder, in the surviving principal, and seconds. To add effect to the law, it was proclaimed, by 30, Charles II., 1679, to be an unpardonable offence.

Disqualification from holding office, and dismissal from the army and navy have, at different times, been held up, in terrorem. In England, eighteen survivors have suffered the penalty, provided against duelling. Major Campbell was hung, in 1808, for having killed Capt. Boyd, in a duel.

In 1813, Lieutenant Blundell was killed in a duel at Carisbroke Castle: the survivor and both seconds were tried, and convicted of murder; and, though subsequently pardoned, dismissed the service. “Duels,” says Sir George Mackenzie, “are but illustrious murders.” Mr. Addison recommends the pillory. The councils of Valentia and Trent excommunicated such combatants; but a man, who has made up his mind to fight a duel, cares little for the church.

During the first eighteen years of the reign of Henry IV., four thousand persons were slain, in duels, in France. He published his famous edict of Blois, against duels, in 1602: and, in 1609, added, to the existing penalties, punishment by death, confiscations, fines, and imprisonment, respectively, for all, concerned in fighting or abetting, even as spectators, or as casual passers, who did not interpose. All this, however, was the work of Sully: for this consistent king, at this very time, gave Crequi leave to fight the Duke of Savoy, and even told him, that he would be his second, were he not a king.

Duels were so frequent, in the reign of his successor, Louis XIII., that Lord Herbert, who was then ambassador, at the court of France, used to say, there was not a Frenchman, worth looking at, who had not killed his man. “Who fought yesterday?” was the mode of inquiring after the news of the morning. The most famous duellist of the age was Montmorenci, Count de Bouttville. He and the Marquis de Beuoron, setting their faces against all authority, and, persisting in this amusement, it was found necessary to take their stubborn heads off. They were tried, convicted, and beheaded. A check was, at length, put to these excesses, by Louis XIV. A particular account of all this will be found in Larrey, Histoire de France, sons le RÉgne de Louis XIV., tom. ii. p. 208. Matters, during the minority of Louis XIV., had come to a terrible pass. The Dukes de Beaufort and Nemours had fought a duel, with four seconds each, and converted it into a Welch main, as the cock-fighters term a meleÉ. They fought, five to five, with swords and pistols. Beaufort killed Nemours—the Marquis de Villars killed D’Henricourt, and D’Uzerches killed De Ris. In 1663, another affair took place, four to four. The king finally published his famous edict of 1679. The marshals of France and the nobility entered into a solemn league and covenant, never to fight a duel, on any pretence whatever; and Louis le Grand adhered to his oath, and resolutely refused pardon to every offender. This greatly checked the evil, for a time.

Kings will die, and their worthy purposes are not always inherited by their successors; soon after the death of the great monarch, the practice of duelling revived in France.

The only radical and permanent preventive, of this equally barbarous, and foolish custom, lies, in the moral and religious education of the people. The infrequency of the practice, in New England, arises entirely from the fact, that the moral and religious training of the community has taught them to look upon a duellist, as an exceedingly unfashionable personage.

New Englanders are a calculating race. They calculate, that it is infinitely better to mind their business, and die quietly in their beds, than to go out and be shot, by the very fellow, who has not the decency to say he is sorry, for treading on their toes, when he was drunk—and they are a fearful race, for they fear the reprehension of the wise and good, and the commands of God, more than they fear the decisions of a lawless tribunal, where fools sit in judgment, and whose absurd decrees are written on the sand.