The DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry, presents the Cabocad of America, starring Raymond Massey and Richard Carlson. Tonight's DuPont play is called, A Duel with Aunt Rebecca. And here is Richard Carlson to begin our story. My name, good friends, is James Shields. As a lad I came to America from Ireland. And after 15 years of wandering, I finally came to rest in Illinois, joined the great Democratic Party and went into politics. In 1842, the time I'm remembering, the good voters of Illinois made me state auditor with a fine fancy office in Springfield and some fine fancy worries to match. The worst of them, I remember, had to do with money. That's why my old friend and fellow Democrat Whiteside had come to see me that September afternoon. Well, young man, I trust you've selected another occupation. Meaning what, sir? Meaning that after what you've done today, I wouldn't give a half cent for your political future. Then why not, sir? You know why not. This, this order you've signed making the state bank's money worthless. But the money's already worthless. It became worthless when the state bank failed. Listen to me, young man. You're in politics. And if you're a Democrat, you don't deliberately lay your head on a block and then hand the Whigs a newly sharpened axe. But I, I had no choice, sir. Oh, you had a dozen choices. Let somebody else do the dirty work. You might have made the governor sign it or the state treasurer. You might have gone fishing. Or you shall never shut up with the name of James Shields to that order. Have you any notion of what the Whigs will do to you? You'll finish, sir? For the moment? Very well. First, by law, that order had to be issued and by the state auditor. Second, I happen to believe in fulfilling the obligations of my office. Third, I have never run from a fight and I never shall. Fourth, and summon it up. I've done my duty as I've seen it. And as for the Whigs, sir, I'll let them do their worst. Well, the Whigs did their worst. Such a commotion you never saw. And I was the villain. I was worse than Satan, Benedict, Arnold and Judas put together. And every day that went by found me getting angrier. Then one morning I, I picked up a copy of that infernal Whig paper, the Sangamo Journal, and I really got mad. Thinking back on it, I must have given Whiteside quite a start that morning. Mr. Whiteside. Oh, oh, good morning, Shields. Come in, come in. I've come to ask just one question, sir. Will you serve as my second? What? Somebody's challenged you to a duel? No, sir, it's, it's I who'll do the challenging. Who? Challenge who? I don't know, sir. But I mean to find out and when I do I... Now, now, hold on, young man. What, what's all this about? You've not read the Sangamo Journal this morning? Before breakfast and spoil my appetite? Certainly not. Well, sir, in this morning's edition I am called a fool, a liar and a thief. You are, are you? By whom? The scoundrel doesn't even dare put his name to it. It's, it's odd in a letter. Here, pretended to be from a country woman named Aunt Rebecca. Aunt Rebecca is it well, sir. He won't get away with it. He'll apologize or he'll fight. Oh, now Shields, it can't be that bad. It can't, hey, here. Listen to this. Dear Mr. Editor, I'm just a simple country woman, but if anybody's planning to tire and feather the great Mr. Shields, I would sure like to donate the feathers. Ah, ah, you smile, white sir. No, no, it's just that I... And listen to this. Where is it now? Ah, here it is. Tell me, does that great financier and friend of the common people, Mr. Shields, get his salary paid in paper or silver? I bet you my prize hog he don't take paper. Even if you don't have a prize hog to bet with me, any democratic politician will do just as good. Oh, you're still thinking of using it. I'm sorry, but I do. Whoever wrote it is pretty good. Thank you for your attention, sir, and good day. Now, now, now, Shields, just a minute, just a minute. In the first place, don't forget that you and I wrote a letter like this last year, signed at Ebenezer's Slocum, you remember? Yes, sir, I do. And if the Whigs were in office, we'd still be writing them. Perhaps so, but... You know, to stay in politics, young man, you've got to control your temper. You can't fight a duel with every Whig who attacks you, even if you are a crack shot and a good swordsman. A man calls me a liar, and I'm supposed to sit by and do... Yes, sir, exactly, and do nothing. And the next chance you get, you call him a liar. That way nobody's feelings get hurt. Now, see here, a good politician takes about as much notice of slander as a... well, as efficient as the rain. You either want to be a successful politician or a stone. Well, Whiteside kept at me for a good half hour and finally calmed me down. Only a few days later, there was a second letter published in the journal attacking me, and it was a lot worse. Well, it wasn't easy, but I finally managed to ignore that one too. But then came a third, signed Aunt Rebecca like the others, and thus Sarsius most infuriating of all. After I'd read it, I exploded. I wrote a letter of my own and walked over to the office of Simeon Francis, editor of the Sangamo journal. Oh, Sile. Come in, won't you? Come in. I am in. Mr. Francis, I wish to know the name of the author of the Aunt Rebecca letters. Oh, those humorous pieces? Perhaps the author thought them humorous. I did not. His name, sir. Yes, of course, his name. Well, it escapes me at the moment, but it'll come to me, I'm sure. I hope so, sir, for I shall stand here until it does. Oh, yes, certainly. Well, let me see, some young politician. No one important, you know. Grand old game politics. The Whigs attacked the Democrats, and then the Democrats attacked the Whigs. Nothing personal, you know. Attack a man one day, dine with him the next. His name, sir? Oh, yes. Well, Mr. Shields, would you mind telling me why you wish this information? Not at all, sir. I have written a letter to him. It is complete except for the name of the recipient. Would you care to hear it? Well, if you wish, sir, certainly. September 16th. Sir, I am informed by the editor of the Sangamo Journal that you are the author of certain articles which I consider highly slanderous and abusive. I will require of you a full, absolute and public apology. This may prevent consequences which no one will regret more than myself. Your obedient servant, James Shields. You're not serious, Mr. Shields. Why such a letter can only result in a duel. Yes, Mr. Francis. I shall duel with this Aunt Rebecca, whoever he is. But Mr. Shields, he's an old friend of yours. And the name of my friend, sir? Abraham Lincoln. Abe Lincoln? Yes, Mr. Shields. You see, you wouldn't think of dueling with an old friend. He was a friend, sir. He may still be if he chooses. That is a matter which will be entirely up to Mr. Lincoln. Well, my friend Whiteside tried to reason with me again, but I wouldn't listen. I'd gone too far and I was too mad. And finally, when I threatened to deliver the letter myself, he agreed to take it over to Abe Lincoln's office. Well, afternoon, Mr. Whiteside. Haven't seen you in quite a spell. Come in. Good to see you. Sit down. The leather one's the most comfortable. Thank you, Lincoln, but I'm afraid this isn't a social occasion. I'm here to deliver a letter from James Shields. From Jim? A letter? Why doesn't he just... Oh, that kind of a letter, eh? I'm afraid so. Here it is. Thank you. Well, I... No, don't go. Let's see what this is all about. Sir, I have been informed by highly slanderous and abusive... full absolute and public apology. I see. So that's it. You see, Shields is a most sensitive fellow, Lincoln, and he's sort of... He's also a most belligerent fellow, Whiteside. But seeing that he's your friend, I hope that you'll be... This doesn't strike me as being particularly friendly, sir. I have been informed, he said. Suppose his informant was mistaken. Why doesn't he ask me if I wrote those letters? Well, Lincoln, it's just that he's... He says he requires an apology. He means to be my friend. Why doesn't he ask for an apology? Well, as I said, sir, he's a... And he threatens consequences. Consequences. In other words, a duel. You know, I don't think I like this letter, Whiteside. Now, see here, young man. I know Shields and I know you. You're both good men. But Shields is proud and you're stubborn. And unless one of you gives way a little, you're certain to end by fighting a duel. And I don't want to see that. Nor do I, sir. But I look at it this way. I hold nothing against Jim Shields. Those letters weren't meant to insult him personally. And if Shields were to approach me as a friend, well, now I'd... I'd give him every bit of satisfaction I could. But he hasn't, sir. He's written threatening me... threatening to kill me if I don't do as he says. Well, sir, it sort of sets my back up. And so in short, Lincoln? So in short, sir, I'm very much afraid that Mr. Shields is going to have to be the one to give way a little. But I know, Shields, it'll mean a duel. I hope not, Whiteside. I most earnestly hope not. But if it does? If it does, sir, then I shall... I shall have to defend myself. Meantime, I think I'll write, Mr. Shields, a letter that won't appear in the journal. A personal letter. September 17th, to James Shields' Esquire. Sir, you say you have been informed that I am the author of certain letters which you deem personally abusive to you, and you demand an apology. Now, sir, since you do not trouble to inquire if I actually am the author, I cannot bring myself to answer your note in its present form. Your obedient servant, Abraham Lincoln. September 18th, to Abraham Lincoln, attorney at law. Sir, Dr. Barrowman has delivered your note. In reply, I will state that in the absence of any denial from you, I must consider you the author of the Aunt Rebecca letters. I will be awaiting your apology. September 19th, to James Shields' Esquire. Sir, I am sure that this affair can be settled amicably if you will withdraw your previous notes and substitute a letter asking me to give you gentlemanly satisfaction if I am the author of the letters. September 20th, sir, I will withdraw nothing. I will substitute nothing. If I do not receive satisfaction from you in one way, I shall be forced to seek it in another. September 21st, sir, I regret that I must consider your note a challenge to a duel. Therefore, I specify the following. Weapons, cavalry broadswords of the largest size to be supplied by me. Time and place will be decided by our seconds in which capacity Dr. Maryman has consented to serve me. Your obedient servant, A. Lincoln. Well, so there it was. We were going to fight a duel. It may sound presumptuous, me being ready to put an end to the life of the great Mr. Lincoln, but do not forget Abe was just a 33-year-old Springfield lawyer then. As for Doolan, I was a pretty good swordsman and Abe was not, but then he was a full foot taller than me and his arms were so all fired long he could hug a hog's head and still twiddle his thumbs. So we looked to be about equal. Anyway, the 24th of September found Whiteside and me at the Doolan place, an island in the Mississippi. Sure owns some out here. What time is it now? Five minutes to five. Thinking any second or two here at five. Still no boat in sight. I wonder. Now you don't suppose that maybe Mr. Lincoln's got... Wait, wait, what's that there coming around the riverbed? Yeah. It's a boat. And there's two men in it. That answer your question? My question, sir, concerned Mr. Lincoln's watch, not his courage. He's a wig and therefore a fool, but that doesn't mean he's a coward. You see, you do like the man. For the hundredth time, will you listen to me? I'm sorry, Whiteside, but I'm afraid I'm a little deaf to everything except an apology for Mr. Lincoln. Therefore, the duel is on? Yes, Mr. Whiteside, the duel is on. The DuPont Cavalcade continues, starring Raymond Massey as Abraham Lincoln and Richard Carlson as James Shields. Shields, a fiery young Illinois politician, angered by a series of published letters attacking him, has challenged another Illinois politician, Abraham Lincoln, to a duel. The dueling place is an island in the Mississippi. Shields' second, Whiteside, now meets Lincoln and his second as they arrive at the island. Good day, Mr. Lincoln. How are you, Whiteside? Afternoon, Merriman. Good day, sir. You brought the weapons? Certainly, certainly. I have them. Mr. Lincoln, I suggest that you wait here. Dr. Merriman and I will take the broadswords to Mr. Shields for his choice, as agreed. He's at the duel in place beyond Yonder Thickets, about the center of the island. When we're ready, I'll give you the signal to join us there. I'll whistle. As you say, sir. Mr. Shields, you have the choice of weapons. I have. And are they a sharp sword? As scalpel, sir. A sharp sword means a clean wound. They are precisely equal in all respects. Your choice, sir. There there'll do. This one. Thank you. Thank you, sir. Then, while I was thrashing the air with mighty strokes, getting ready for the coming mortal combat, Merriman bids me bide my time, and off he goes with Whiteside to, he says, make the necessary preliminaries. So there's Abe down at the water's edge waiting, and there's me up in the middle of that island waiting too, while our seconds decide to hold up the proceedings for a parley. Merriman, this is ridiculous. I know. We've got to stop it. Neither man can win because if one is killed, the other's career is ruined. You're right, sir. Quite right. But what can we do? I've been working on Lincoln for a week, but he no more tells Shields he didn't really write those letters. What did you say, Merriman? He didn't? I said he didn't really write those letters. Well, he wrote the first one all right, but that was the mild one. The others, well, they were written by, well, by a young lady of his equities. By a young lady? Whiteside, where are you going? That's right. By a young lady, Shields. By a young lady. Now, what have you got to say to that? Well, sir, that's most interesting. And if Mr. Lincoln would come down off his high horse long enough to tell me that, well, it'd make a considerable difference. His high horse. All you have to do is ask him. And all he has to do is tell me. I hope Merriman is having more luck with Lincoln than I'm having with you. For the last time, Lincoln, it's not going to kill you to tell Shields the truth, man. When he asks me, Merriman, I'll tell him everything. Also, I'll apologize. But if I back down now, it'll appear an act of cowardice. In whose eyes, young man? In my eyes, sir. I guess that's the signal for the duel. Come. Here they come now. Good evening, Mr. Shields. Mr. Lincoln. Any luck, doctor? No. Well, then? Well, then the two biggest fools in Illinois may proceed to destroy each other. Gentlemen, will you take your places? At the count of ten, you may begin. Are you ready, Mr. Shields? I am, sir. Mr. Lincoln? Ready, sir. Very well. Mr. Whiteside and I will count in unison. Ready? One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. A moment, gentlemen. Yes, Mr. Lincoln. Tell me, since the seconds have had a bit of a plover, do the rules governing these affairs prevent the two principals from having a word together before the beginning of hostilities? Well, sir, I... Just a moment, please. Certainly. Certainly. The consensus, Mr. Lincoln, is that such a procedure is irregular but permissible. In that case, would you gentlemen be so kind as to withdraw to the far side of the island? As you wish, sir. Come along now. Yes. Well, Mr. Shields? Well, Mr. Lincoln? It just occurred to me that a few minutes from now, one of us may no longer be in the best of health. And remembering our... Do I presume if I say our friendship? I've always considered you my friend, Mr. Lincoln. Until recently, of course. Yes, of course. Well, remembering our previous friendship, then, it... Well, in short, Mr. Shields, I should merely like to say goodbye to you as an old friend. That's not necessary, sir. I have no intention of killing you. In all frankness, I only mean to disarm you. Well, sir, that is likewise my intention. But with swords so sharp, the slightest slip may mean almost instant... Well, sir, I believe you know my meaning. Yes, yes, I see. Well, with that unfortunate possibility in mind, I should also like to say goodbye to you too, Mr. Lincoln. Thank you, sir. Thank you kindly. You know, Mr. Shields, I was just thinking how unfortunate it is that even now, in 1842, men don't seem yet to have found a way to settle their differences peaceably. I agree. But it is indeed unfortunate. Why, when you consider all that could be avoided by the simple thing as an apology, it... Well, it makes you wonder. Yes, yes, of course. But I must tell you that regardless of the outcome of this encounter, I will at least have learned two most valuable lessons. For one, I doubt that I shall ever again resort to personal attacks on my political opponents. Hmm. The most commendable resolve, I'm sure. And second, I assure you that in the future, I shall think twice before writing a series of anonymous letters attacking... A series? But Whiteside said you wrote only one of the letters. Mr. Shields, could that remark of yours be construed as an inquiry into the authorship of those letters? Well, sir, I... Well, sir, I suppose that it might possibly be so construed. Then I shall so construed. And since you have inquired, I can tell you that I was the author of only the first letter. Inspired by its success, a high-spirited young lady of my acquaintance wrote the others. What is it you said? I may have helped with some of them a little bit. But I can inform you that they were written solely for political effect and that no personal offense was intended. I see. And tell me, sir, what you have just said, might that possibly be construed as an apology? Well, sir, I... Yes, I suppose it might be so construed. Well, sir, then I shall so construed. And so accept it and so thank you for it. You're most welcome, sir. And now, Mr. Shields, may I make an inquiry of you? You may, Mr. Lincoln. And will you tell me, Jim, why in heaven we are standing on this dad-blasted island in the middle of this dad-blasted river? Ha! Ha-ha-ha! I'll tell you why, Abe. It's because we're a couple of dad-blasted fools, sir. Very well, then. Come on, Jim. Let's get out of here. Oh, there, gentlemen, to the boats! Mr. Shields and I are exceedingly hungry. Well, good friends, that's the story just as it happened. I'm not apologizing either. As I said, how was I to know that Abe Lincoln would turn out to be a great man? Hmm. I've come to think of it, maybe I should have known at that. It took a lot of courage and a lot of goodwill and wisdom getting us out of a situation like that. Yes, I guess I should have known, shouldn't I? And to know, Abe Lincoln didn't forget that almost-dual of ours either. Years later, he said to me, the young lady that I was standing up for, the mysterious Aunt Rebecca? You never knew who she was, Jim? Well, she was a young lady in Springfield. Her name then was Mary Todd. Six weeks later, she became Mrs. Abraham Lincoln. More thanks to Raymond Massey, Richard Carlson, and the Cavalcade players for tonight's story. Next week, the star of the DuPont Cavalcade will be Margaret Sullivan. Our play, Militant Angel, a story of a great woman, Annie Warburton Goodrich, and her exciting crusade for humanity. Be sure to listen. Tonight's DuPont Cavalcade starred Raymond Massey and Richard Carlson, and featured Charles Dingle. It was written by Warner Law. Music was composed by Arden Cornwell and conducted by Donald Borey. The program was directed by John Zoeller. This is Cy Harris speaking. Don't forget, next week, our star, Margaret Sullivan. Our play, Militant Angel. The DuPont Cavalcade of America comes to you from the Velasco Theater in New York and is sponsored by the DuPont Company of Wilmington, Delaware, makers of better things for better living through chemistry. Baby Snooks has a good time at daddy's expense. Listen on NBC.
