The United States regarded itself from its inception as a classless society, unlike the effete societies of Europe, but there were exceptions when it came to the duel. Rank was a problem in a notorious duel in 1838, where the two protagonists were both congressmen. (Joanne B. Freeman in Affairs of Honor: National Politics in the New Republic identified 70 encounters involving one or two serving congressmen). Jonathan Cilley of Maine launched an attack in the House of Representatives on Colonel James Watson Webb, editor of the Whig Morning Courier and New York Enquirer, alleging that the newspaper took a soft editorial line on corruption. The dishonored Webb reacted in the expected way with a challenge, which Cilley refused to accept since a mere editor was beneath a gentleman’s notice. Webb then prevailed on Congressman William Jordan Graves of Kentucky to act as his second and deliver the challenge on his behalf, but Cilley again declined. The affair took a new twist when Graves decided that he himself had been offended by Cilley’s manner and issued a challenge on his own behalf. Cilley was obliged to accept. Rifles, another American innovation, were the chosen weapons, and Cilley was shot dead, leaving a wife and three children. Graves was punished by a motion of censure in the House.
One intriguing aspect—for those of us safely ensconced in the twenty-first century at least—was the obligation that Cilley felt himself under to participate in the social ritual that would put his life at stake. This obligation was a factor in the most famous of all American duels, the Burr-Hamilton encounter, or “interview,” as the contemporary euphemism had it. Every aspect of this “interview” has been discussed, or set to music, but it is worth pondering the enigma of the words that Hamilton—an opponent of dueling despite his checkered past in this regard—wrote on his deathbed. “I have found for some time that my life must be exposed to that man.” Why must it? we ask. What is the power of that force we now call culture, specifically of the cult or code of honor? How does a conviction become a commandment, and one that requires putting life itself at risk?