There's something a little disturbing about all of the episodes in this series because, after all, what's being described and analyzed are weapons designed to kill someone -- anyone. But this one is especially creepy. It opens with a brief historical record of dueling, going back to David and Goliath. I'm sure that the balding little man, a writer who serves as the expert, knows what he's talking about and that he probably has a nice family, yet he seems so enthusiastic in his presentation that the viewer may get the eerie feeling that the guy LIKES the idea of two men trying their best to kill one another.
Before the establishment of a system of jurisprudence, conflicts were settle out of court by mano a mano combat. The survivor had the most just cause. But during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I -- that is, about the time of Shakespeare -- the laws were codified and settled in court. Except for the aristocracy, who lived in a culture of honor and manliness that kept the duel alive. The groundlings were presumably too dense to engage in these rituals and probably were limited to fist fights or crude weapons.
A professor from Oregon provides an apt historical view of the evolution of the personal sword, from symbol to weapon, and effectively relates it to upward mobility. As more commoners became aristocrats, the duel was a way of proving their status and shutting the door behind them. However, sword fights required skill and stamina, which meant that the younger and more fit duelist won. In the middle of the 1700s, the gun became the weapon of choice and evened the playing field. Now an old man could shoot a young man. The pistol was also a far more dangerous weapon and the greater the danger, the more courage on display. So the thinking went.
It also meant, of course, that honor had little to do with the outcome, let alone justice. Alexander Hamilton, one of our more brilliant and passionate founders and author of The Federalist Papers, was swept up into a duel with Aaron Burr, a much lesser figure and an argumentative egotist, and Hamilton was killed on the same spot as his son had been killed in a duel two years earlier.
The duel was brought to America by British officers and died out in the North. It found fertile ground in the South where the plantation system approximated the aristocratic manor system in Europe. The South had been settled by Cavaliers who brought a personal touch to the justice system quite outside the courts. A man settled his own problems and didn't go whining to lawyers. The program performs a nice analysis of the social pressures that brought about the many duels in the South.
The Civil War pretty much ended the ritual of the duel, although it was still so common that Jefferson Davis had to be careful about where he posted his officers. So many challenges were outstanding that he couldn't afford to have two enemies stationed near one another. But if dueling died out in the South, it was still carried by Southerners to the Southwest, where it turned into the fast draw contest of Western movies.
I'm compelled to editorialize. Warfare is one thing, anonymous frightened hordes attack each other, but the duel is a personal matter and has had a pernicious influence on American culture because it has led to a stereotyped conception of manliness. You are manly to the extent that you're willing to settle grievances, however slight, with violence. For us, it's almost the opposite of femininity. Yet personal challenges can be turned aside easily by the use of wit and common sense. There isn't room to provide some examples I've witnessed. Besides, the Japanese Kamikaze pilot, whom no one can consider unmanly, wrote poems to be left for their families. And the night before a battle, the generals of Ancient Greece would sit around discussing poetry and art. Our conception of masculinity seems so limited compared to the array of alternatives.
Before the establishment of a system of jurisprudence, conflicts were settle out of court by mano a mano combat. The survivor had the most just cause. But during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I -- that is, about the time of Shakespeare -- the laws were codified and settled in court. Except for the aristocracy, who lived in a culture of honor and manliness that kept the duel alive. The groundlings were presumably too dense to engage in these rituals and probably were limited to fist fights or crude weapons.
A professor from Oregon provides an apt historical view of the evolution of the personal sword, from symbol to weapon, and effectively relates it to upward mobility. As more commoners became aristocrats, the duel was a way of proving their status and shutting the door behind them. However, sword fights required skill and stamina, which meant that the younger and more fit duelist won. In the middle of the 1700s, the gun became the weapon of choice and evened the playing field. Now an old man could shoot a young man. The pistol was also a far more dangerous weapon and the greater the danger, the more courage on display. So the thinking went.
It also meant, of course, that honor had little to do with the outcome, let alone justice. Alexander Hamilton, one of our more brilliant and passionate founders and author of The Federalist Papers, was swept up into a duel with Aaron Burr, a much lesser figure and an argumentative egotist, and Hamilton was killed on the same spot as his son had been killed in a duel two years earlier.
The duel was brought to America by British officers and died out in the North. It found fertile ground in the South where the plantation system approximated the aristocratic manor system in Europe. The South had been settled by Cavaliers who brought a personal touch to the justice system quite outside the courts. A man settled his own problems and didn't go whining to lawyers. The program performs a nice analysis of the social pressures that brought about the many duels in the South.
The Civil War pretty much ended the ritual of the duel, although it was still so common that Jefferson Davis had to be careful about where he posted his officers. So many challenges were outstanding that he couldn't afford to have two enemies stationed near one another. But if dueling died out in the South, it was still carried by Southerners to the Southwest, where it turned into the fast draw contest of Western movies.
I'm compelled to editorialize. Warfare is one thing, anonymous frightened hordes attack each other, but the duel is a personal matter and has had a pernicious influence on American culture because it has led to a stereotyped conception of manliness. You are manly to the extent that you're willing to settle grievances, however slight, with violence. For us, it's almost the opposite of femininity. Yet personal challenges can be turned aside easily by the use of wit and common sense. There isn't room to provide some examples I've witnessed. Besides, the Japanese Kamikaze pilot, whom no one can consider unmanly, wrote poems to be left for their families. And the night before a battle, the generals of Ancient Greece would sit around discussing poetry and art. Our conception of masculinity seems so limited compared to the array of alternatives.