Dueling in Charleston: Violence Refined in the Holy City

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Chapter 1

SINNERS IN THE HOLY CITY

Charleston’s Hot Weather, Hotter Tempers

Over the years it has been argued by historians, professors, even myriad tour guides that South Carolinians—Charlestonians especially—participated in more duels than any other group of people in the nation, quite possibly the entire North American continent. This domestic opinion is subjective, of course, but hardly comes as a surprise to many natives whose forebears were part of the richest and fastest-growing city in British North America. Practiced from the colonial period and well through the nineteenth century, dueling was an inherently dangerous means of settling disputes and resting arguments. Though certainly not restricted to South Carolina, it seemed to find full expression here in both frequency and public acceptance.

By the late 1700s, the diversity of European colonists in the Carolina Lowcountry region was remarkable. By 1780, there were nine separate ethnic groups cohabitating in a city already more than a century old, and each one of them carried their own distinct talents, trades and traditions from their respective homelands.¹

Among these jumbled creeds, Charleston was conspicuous for its seemingly endless supply of hot-tempered duelists and their wanton, albeit elegant armed conflicts. Even today, just a cursory database search through any of the city’s newspapers will return a hefty number of results. Newspapers and periodicals regularly announced the outcomes of concluding duels, not unlike modern-day sports pages. From August 1808: It is reported and we fear too much truth, that a duel was fought on Tuesday Last [August 9] on the Georgia side of the river between James Lesley, an attorney, and Dr. Bochelle…Mr Lesley was shot through the body and died in a few hours. From August 2, 1853: Duel this morning about 5 o’clock [at] back of the race course. Mr. J.D. Legare and Mr. Dunovant met to settle their disputes when the former was instantly killed. And, of course, from May 25, 1839: Duel fought at the lower end of Broad Street between Fell and Herriot, the former shot in the foot to keep him from running and the latter in the mouth to keep him from jawing.²

So why, really, was there so much violence in and around Charleston, the so-called Holy City? Is the adage true that within the bounds of the blessed lie the truest of sinners? Some might even suggest it was the heat. At least that was Charleston’s own Dr. David Ramsay’s hypothesis in 1809 when he stated that warm weather and its attendant increase of bile in the stomach generated an irritable temper which made men say and do things thoughtlessly without any deliberate intention of hurting the feelings of another person. To be sure, Dr. Ramsay was no dope, far from it in fact. A 1773 Princeton graduate with a medical degree from the University of Pennsylvania and a two-time South Carolina delegate to the Continental Congresses of 1782 and 1785, his contributions to American independence and its history are exemplary even today.³

In truth, Ramsay’s thinking does carry some merit, scientific theory or not. A simple perusal over duels recorded in Charleston during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries reveals that, indeed, a majority of them took place between June and September. Noteworthy also is the public’s awareness of these heat-related disputes. An ad placed in the City Gazette & Daily Advertiser by Timothy Crackskull (hopefully a pseudonym) noted on July 2, 1793:

Whereas the warmth that usually prevails in the month of July has very strong effects on the constitution of the inhabitants of this city, and as amongst many of the young gentlemen it may issue on duels—the subscriber gives this public notice, that he has choice and approved pistols, on the newest and most destructive construction, which he will hire at the rate of one guinea per day for each pair. Enquire at No. 9 Old Church-yard.

Also in Ramsay’s defense, contemporary medical researchers have initiated numerous studies comparing weather’s effects on moods and actually have found evidence concluding high temperature and humidity levels as having negative impacts on one’s demeanor. One particular Swedish study in 1974 observed over sixteen thousand college-age students and recorded notable increases in both dysphoria and irritability. Another analysis performed in 2004 revealed a conclusive bond between aggressive behavior and high humidity—a climactic condition for which Charleston is world renowned.⁴

Dueling Pistols, by Kincheloe, 2012, watercolor. For their contests, South Carolina duelists sometimes chose early morning hours just before sunrise, usually in isolated locations outside of town. A nationally recognized watercolorist and sculptor, Kincheloe’s works are included in numerous private and public collections around the country, including the National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington D.C. Private collection, photo by Sean Money.

By modern scientific standards though, blaming all local duelists’ murderous behavior on the weather seems a bit too easy. Letters, correspondences, court documents and newspaper articles in both the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries specifically comment on the persistent stubbornness among adversaries, their arguments carrying on for months at a time and throughout changing seasons. Moreover, plenty of Charleston’s duels occurred in non-summer months. Ramsay himself, for instance, was involved with at least one duel in Charleston, serving as an attendant (or second) to Edward Peter Simons in an affair with Gilbert C. Geddes—a duel which occurred in late October 1823.⁵

Besides the weather, dogmatism was a major symptom of a duelist’s temperament. After all, for any honorable aristocrat to waver in his beliefs was, for its day, the equivalent of spinelessness. (Politicians even now are harangued loudly for flip-flopping on an issue.) Plenty of stubborn locals gratuitously used newspapers and the perpetual neighborhood rumor mill to assert their rigid convictions—even in the face of hard evidence proving they were mistaken. Seemingly, it was these poor souls who were the most dangerous in Charleston.

In 1807, Thomas Hutson, a local attorney, made a flippantly insulting comment about an associate named Arthur Smith. Smith, upon notification of Hutson’s words, took him to task by demanding that he acknowledge publicly that it is untrue. Of note here is that Hutson and Smith up until this point had been close colleagues, considered by some as longtime friends and courtroom allies. Despite this close relationship, Hutson remained inflexible, exhibiting numb-skulled obstinacy to the point where retraction of any kind was, even among friends, out of the question. He replied to Smith, I do not recall the remark but if I said it, I meant it.⁶

A challenge followed. The pair met on September 14 at Pigeon Point near Beaufort and exchanged shots. Each fell. Smith died that night, Hutson a few hours later. Both in their early twenties, Hutson’s and Smith’s funerals were performed concurrently. In perhaps a forewarning to others, both families and attending clergy laid the two to rest in the same tomb.⁷

For likely obvious reasons, dueling in retrospect appears foolish, reckless and even humorous to many. Silly as it may sound today though, it was a deadly serious matter for those who partook of it long ago. Unfortunately, those raw, human emotions that, in turn, led to controlled killing remain impossible to quantify, further clouding our empathy for it now in the twenty-first century. Even more disturbing are the dozens of popular historical figures like Henry Clay and Sam Houston who openly protested the deadly art yet still took part in it. Even Alexander Hamilton went on record as an opponent to dueling, and most everyone knows just how horribly that principle worked out for him.⁸

Sadly, Charlestonians were not used to subservient roles—especially the rich ones. While lower socioeconomic classes answered to the law and more or less respected its enforcement, those of high wealth were a bit more aloof. For them, slander and libel were constant, severe threats, and these character smirches were something that no common courtroom was fit to handle correctly. Or so they believed.

Now, by today’s standards, what with social networking, expanded (and relentless) news coverage and a seemingly bottomless chasm of digital information, purposely faulting a person’s character is nothing noteworthy. In fact, numbers of reality-based television shows practically wallow in it. Imagine if at the end of each episode of Survivor the contestant voted off the island could challenge a teammate, walk off ten paces and shoot him or her. It’s simply unheard of. Yet the defamation is still there, the same basic insults and criticisms exist and, worse, it’s broadcast all over the country. Of course, human emotions of today run just as high as in past centuries (actually higher judging by the recorded number of antidepressants prescribed in recent years). Yet what is clearly not the same are the consequences of losing face. Honor and character are routinely questioned among countless scores of people on a daily basis, but unlike the upper classes of past centuries, most of modern society has fortunately learned to absorb it and move on.

An overwhelming amount of psychological studies can be launched from observations within dueling’s history. Presently, though, it is impossible to ascertain any real symptoms of duelists. Did conditions like depression or general anxiety disorders factor in? If so, then to what degree did each influence a duelist’s vengefulness? Unfortunately, psychiatric analyses of duelists cannot be performed in hindsight, or at least not accurately. Thus, today’s historians likely will never have an exact answer to the essential question: What were they thinking?

Finally, Charleston psychiatrist Howard M. Kurtzman, MD, offers a more modern, maybe more understandable retrospection. He observes that the issuing of challenges as well as accepting them was likely done out of nothing more than pure fear—something that Charleston’s wealthy elitists had plenty of in those earlier days. He states:

In essence, a duelist is insecure, and he needs the identification with an unsullied reputation. This false and inflated identity becomes who the duelist actually believes he is. It boosts his value and increases his specialness compared to other men and must be defended at all costs. Attacking this identity is tantamount to being physically assaulted. A fight for one’s life/identity is the only remedy to the perceived loss in his value. Winning such a high-stakes duel would not only restore the loss but, depending on the publicity generated, also boost his value even higher than it was before the insult. In my opinion, the winner of a duel has, in essence, shot himself, and his victory, if any, is indeed Pyrrhic.⁹

Just as Kurtzman says, within the conventions of a gentleman, honor was valued higher than life itself. Lose honor, lose everything. It was a frightful notion indeed. As Shakespeare wrote, Life every man holds dear, but the dear man holds Honor far more precious-dear than life.¹⁰

Duel au pistolet au XIXème siècle, by Bauce et Rouget in 1857 denotes a traditional affaire d’honneur among gentlemen. Each duelist is using a flintlock pistol, is clothed in proper attire and has an assistant on hand to govern the fight. A surgeon is ready to administer care to the loser. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons/public domain.

Fear of ridicule, then, or a tarnished repute in the eyes of one’s peers led to bitter resentment and an overbearing need to right the wrong. This resentment, Kurtzman continues, subsequently brooded within, eventually boiling over into vengeance. Vengeance then systematically took over rationalization to the point where any inner reflection on the consequences (i.e., dying) was the furthest thing from a duelist’s mind. Attain satisfaction first and damn whatever else happens. Whatever the motives, Charleston citizens and soldiers alike were excellent students of revenge and justice. Their personal integrity and conviction proved paramount, and they killed—sometimes brutally—to preserve both.

Without question, it’s extraordinarily tough to pinpoint Charleston’s (maybe even South Carolina’s) most well-known duel. For starters, one must at least consider the feud and ultimate 1778 showdown between Charleston’s Christopher Gadsden and Major General Robert Howe. So well known was that particular affair that a song was written about it. A few verses, sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle:

And then they both together made,

This honest declaration—

That they came here by honor led,

And not by inclination.

That is, they fought, ’twas not because

Of rancor, spite or passion,

But only to obey the laws

Of custom and the fashion.

The pistols then, before their eyes,

Were fairly primed and loaded;

H. wished and so did G. likewise,

The custom was exploded.¹¹

Maybe best remembered today as a founder of Charleston’s Sons of Liberty and designer of the Gadsden flag (Don’t Tread On Me), Christopher Gadsden was a Charleston-born