medieval. Billacois states "Churchmen saw duelling as a manifestation of
infernal libertinism" (87). and "To set oneself up as a judge in place
of the law-giving King and God of Justice was a profoundly impious act"
(101). These sentiments are clearly demonstrated in the literature of the
eighteenth century. It is fitting that Valmont dies in a duel, for he is a
relentless libertine. The same is true of Robert Lovelace in Samuel Richardson’s
novel Clarissa. If this appears to be a paradox, that is because it is. There is
an irrefutable gap between a general disapproval of duelling and the obligation
to participate when it was one’s own honour at stake or somebody close. This
catch-22 in the eighteenth century mind can be found in almost every piece of
literature that duelling is a part of, no matter how small a part that may be.
In Clarissa, Lovelace’s participation in a duel with Clarissa’s brother (who is
also a scoundrel) is strongly held against him. Yet, at the end of the novel,
the doomed Clarissa, who is taking on saintly proportions by this point,
implores her cousin, Colonel Morden, not to seek vengeance on Lovelace. Despite
this, Morden is moved by principle and by Clarissa’s honour and kills Lovelace
in a duel. Morden is clearly justified in doing this and is not brought down or
thought less of for the altercation. Another example of this dichotomy comes
from Oliver Goldsmith’s novel The Vicar of Wakefield. In this novel, the Vicar’s
oldest son, George. fights a duel under the employ of Squire Thornkill. After
this happens, Thornkill sends George to Sir William, Thornkill’s uncle, to
supposedly be rewarded. Instead George receives a strict rebuke for haaving
participated in a duel at all. Sir William calls George "the instument of [Thornkill's]
vices" (125), for Thornkill is a conscientious opponent to the duel.
George’s parent’s are equally shocked to hear of the incident. Despite this,
later in the novel, after George’s mother believes that Thornkill has ruined her
daughter, George’s mother orders him to challenge Thornkill for her daughter’s
honour. The duel never takes place because Thornkill has his men seize George.
When Sir William learns of this, he again scolds George, but the more serious of
his rebukes goes to his nephew, about whom he states "I find his present
prosecution was dictated by tyranny, cowardice, and revenge" (187), for it
is a greater crime in Sir William’s eyes that his nephew did not respond
honorably to the challenge. Thornkill’s honour is clearly at a greater loss for
having dishonorably backed out of a duel (by having his men seize George), then
George’s honor is for having participated in a duel at all. Dueling was a
complicated and intricate event, much more then it would appear to be at first
glance in literature. Yet, when one looks closely into the literature it is
possible to see a different story emerging; one that was torn between love and
hate for the duel. It are these split sentiments that cause Viernan to call the
eighteenth century "an era of divided souls" (165), for even those
individuals who spoke adamently against the duel would become participants under
the proper circumstances. Kiernan also reflects this when he states "There
could be respect for a man who took the field only on valid occasion; and a
properly conducted duel was orderly and dignified, perpetuating a privelege of
blue blood without harming anyone else. It might stir curiosity, even
admiration, rather than dislike" (167), but the problem was, who decided
which duel was honorable and which one was not? As seen in literature, it often
seemed to depend whether the offended party was a close family member or a
stranger. Other unwritten rules of the duel are found in the literature of the
eighteenth century; such as dueling between classes, and codes of honour. It is
through literature that the reader can see the unwritten codes and begin to
understand the complexity and complications of the eighteenth century society
that claimed the duel as its own.