The deadliest of games: the institution of dueling.

• Author: Kingston, Christopher G.

1. Introduction

   "Pistols at ten paces" and other forms of dueling were once commonplace in Europe and the early United States (Holland 1997). Alexander Hamilton, who graces $10 Federal Reserve notes, died in a duel in 1804; Andrew Jackson, whose portrait appears on the $20, was seriously wounded in two duels. Except for some politically motivated dueling (Freeman 2001), the institution faded in the North in the early 19th century but at the same time waxed strong in the U.S. South (Seitz 1929) and West (Steward 2000). By the 20th century, the code duello had largely disappeared from the United States (Wallace 1991) and Europe. To this day, however, dueling persists in rural areas in some developing nations, including Paraguay (Gunson 1998) and the Philippines (de Leon 2002).

   Most analysts have treated duels as irrational affairs, a belief that has deep roots. Victorianera Virginian Robert Reid Howison, for instance, considered dueling a form of private war that "originated in the wicked vindictive passions and propensities of fallen human nature." Only when the "Kingdom of Christ shall be established in all hearts," he opined, will dueling cease (Howison 1924). Many others also considered dueling a barbaric activity (Morgan 1995, p. 228). The fact that most duels seemed to be fought over trivial matters--or, in the terms of one writer, at "the drop of a hat"--further suggests that dueling was essentially an irrational activity.

   By contrast, we contend that dueling contains a rational core that can be modeled. After all, dueling has ended in many places though human nature remains unchanged (Wright 2002a). Moreover, even wicked people like Adolf Hitler have opposed dueling (Combs 1997). Both facts suggest that something other than innate human depravity drives dueling behavior. Yet, while a number of models of optimal firing strategies under various circumstances have been proffered (see, for instance, Blackwell 1948, Restrepo 1957, Kursin 1983, Radzik 1988), there has been less attention to why the combatants might have rationally agreed to duel in the first place.

   Careful review of the historical literature suggests that most duels were born of conflicts over resources, sometimes tangible resources like land, lucrative government offices, market share, or women (Morgan 1995, pp. 535-536), but usually intangible ones. In the best recent treatments of dueling, Greenberg (1990) and Morgan (1995) argue persuasively that duelists sought to defend their "honor." Other scholars (Schwartz, Baxter, and Ryan 1984; Billacois 1990; Keiser 1990; Weber 1999) and contemporaries (Anon. 1830) make similar claims. Importantly, they contend that "honor" was not a meaningless term or catch-all but rather a reference to reputation for fair dealing, honoring contracts, and paying debts. Financial responsibility, in other words, if not quite synonymous with honor was at least an important component of the concept. Gentlemen did not shoot each other over trivial matters but rather over accusations that they had lied. Seemingly bizarre behavior, like gently tugging on a rival's nose, was a major offense because it symbolized the unmasking of a liar. The credit implications of such an accusation were certainly negative. Seen in this light, duels take on a more rational cast.

   In fact, dueling thrived when and where credit markets were opaque and highly personal in nature, as in early modern Europe, colonial America, the antebellum South, late 19th century Mexico, and rural Paraguay today. Where credit markets are more impersonal and formal, like the antebellum North (Wright 2001, 2002b), Nazi Germany, and much of the globe today, "honor" loses its strength as a credit signal and dueling fades. Economies of scale and relatively low transaction costs allow modern lenders to carefully screen applicants through the use of credit histories, revenue statements, and balance sheets. Personal credit markets, however, rely more upon outward appearances than financial facts; holistic impressions of the borrower's "character" reign supreme.

   Southern planters often relied on personal credit markets and just as often they were highly leveraged, even technically bankrupt. Thomas Jefferson, for example, was a lifelong bankrupt who stayed one step ahead of the jailer by borrowing from Peter to pay Paul (Sloan 1995). Like Jefferson, most Southern planters owned tremendous assets but also owed tremendous liabilities (Breen 1987). Further complicating their financial affairs, many of their liabilities were essentially callable. Most of their debt took the form of callable open book accounts or relatively short term (one to five years) bonds and mortgages that had matured but remained "at interest" at the mutual consent of both lender and borrower (Kilbourne 1995). At the same time, many of their assets were highly illiquid, like real estate, or mission-critical, like slaves (Mann 2003). Similar to a bank short of cash reserves, planters could not suffer any attack on their credit standing lest they be run upon and ruined.

   Unlike the formal lending sector, the personal credit market would make loans to men like Jefferson so long as they remained honorable men of character. A man who lost his honor, however, was no longer worthy of credit. His fortune was jeopardized as he might be forced to sell assets at unpropitious times in order to meet the demands of liability holders. Unable to obtain new loans to pay pressing demands, he stared bankruptcy and destitution in the face. An attack upon a man's honor, therefore, was not a trivial affair but rather a dire threat to his business and to his family's well-being. To those accustomed to obtaining bank loans, risking life and limb to reestablish one's credit seems absurd. To those accustomed to private credit markets, not defending one's honor was the absurdity (Wright 2002a).

   The customs of the code duello also point to the basic rationality of the institution. Duels were not barroom brawls or spontaneous gunfights but rather carefully planned events. In a typical scenario, one man would insult another by tugging on his nose or accusing him of being a liar, thief, or some other term that threatened to sour the personal credit market's assessment of his creditworthiness. If the accused thought the accusation potentially damaging, which he was likely to do if the accuser was of a similar social rank and hence presumably qualified to make the accusation, "negotiations" commenced. Working through an agent called a "second," the accused sought to persuade the accuser to withdraw, modify, or explain away the damaging comment or action. If the accuser refused, the accused had to decide whether the potential damage was sufficient to warrant challenging him to a duel. If a challenge was issued, the accuser now faced a decision: risk his life or admit that he had lied. Unsurprisingly, the public scorned men who refused to accept a challenge; its credit rating implications were also negative (Morgan 1995).

   The challenged chose the weapons, time, and place of the encounter. Other rules, like distance between the shooters, number of shots allowed, and other details were also agreed to. If last minute attempts at reconciliation failed, the men fought it out, with their seconds nearby to ensure that this deadliest of games was fairly played. Dueling was illegal in most jurisdictions so duels were usually conducted in secret. Data are therefore sparse. Our best guess is that the chance of surviving a duel was roughly 50%. Legal sanctions were extremely rare because juries sympathetically entertained claims of "self-defense" and surviving witnesses, usually just one of the principals and the two seconds, often swore that the shooting had been an "accident" (Piccato 1999).

   The honor and creditworthiness of the winning duelist was upheld and even enhanced. Accusations against his character were erased; the winner had signaled the credit market that he was a manly, courageous leader capable of defending his property and his interests. The loser lost his life, but that outcome many thought preferable to living life dishonored. Once accused, it was often better to have dueled and lost than not to have dueled at all (Holland 1997; Piccato 1999).

   Personal creditors did not punish duelists by restricting future loans the way that banks appear to have done. The reason is that personal creditors "won" whether their debtor survived a duel or not. If the borrower lived, his credit remained high and a damaging run on his assets was avoided. (A run could injure all creditors by forcing the debtor to sell assets for prices far below fair value. Or, a run could help some creditors at the expense of others if the debtor showed favoritism by immediately liquidating some claims in full.) If the borrower died, his estate went into a slow, managed liquidation. Assuming the executor was an honorable man, creditors of the estate could look forward to receiving their fair share of the estate's assets, with legal interest if the debtor died while financially solvent. Because probate proceedings were better...