Fiction: From Chapter 6: New Orleans (Part 2)

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Walt invited some soldiers recently returned from the war in Mexico to join them, because one of these was General James J. Shields. Walt, familiar with the legend of the Rebecca letters and subsequent duel, asked him for the real story, which he was glad to relate, because he was still rather vain and had to try his capacity to charm the beautiful blonde lady seated puzzlingly with these two possibly disreputable fellows.
    “I begin at the site of the action, and, as I felt neither of us truly wanted to be there—we had been friends theretofore, or friendly rivals—I dissembled calm by conjecturing a comparison of ourselves to those other famed duelists Hamilton and Burr. I asked if such had occurred to him.”
    Walt interposed, “Yes! I have wandered over those same fields in Weehawken.”
    Shields continued. “A delicious breeze charms the place, wafted from the river across the fields. I, too, have been there many times since that day.”
    Malinda said, “Smells are so important. I love the smell of Tennessee.”
    Edgar said, “Perhaps Burr was the better man, and Hamilton only a slanderer fearful to maintain his own position as favored golden boy.”

“Should I continue with my story?”

    After a moment, Shields asked, “Well, should I continue with my own story?” He received resounding encouragement but lacked the charm or drama to hold them even briefly, so he made it short. Finishing, though, amid long, loud laughter from all around, Shields recounted, “. . . by lopping off an overhanging branch! My men had warned me of his advantage in height, and our seconds on both sides had kept up a rigorous attempt to dissuade us, but I had simply disregarded it, relying on my skill, or, really, made impetuous by my anger. Until the very instant he gave me this ocular, palpable, fatal proof! Hahaha! He had a good eight or nine inches on me!”
    Malinda asked, awestruck, “How tall was he?”
    A voice from behind said, “He is six feet, four inches tall.”
    All their heads turned, chins and beards tilting up, and beheld, without believing it, the representative from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln.
    Malinda leapt toward him in her inclination to embrace him, but caught herself, so that her fingertips only brushed his chest, his waistcoat. She looked into his face, which towered over hers, and he smiled down kindly into her eyes.
    “Congressman Lincoln!”
    “How do, ma’am?”
    “Well! I used to be just fine! Won’t you pray sit down?”
    “Thank you kindly, miss. General Shields. Mr. Whitman.”
    Shields said, “Congressman Lincoln! Why, this is indeed an unexpected honor! To what do we owe the pleasure of.”

“What’re you drinking, so early in the day?”

    “I had hoped to find General Taylor in these parts. But I’m equally pleased to find this pleasant company. What’re you drinking, so early in the day?”
    Walt looked at Poe with his mouth agape, as if to say, “He knows me!”
    Abe said, “I’m grateful to you, Mr. Whitman, for your faithful coverage, no doubt to your own detriment, of my curiosity about this strange war we’re in with our neighbors to the south. You have the knack of getting into places nobody else seems to want to get in.”
    “Like you, sir, I know something smells fishy—Call me Walt, sir. I.”
    “Well, Walt, I want to thank you for showing all the folks there’s more in this mess than meets the eye. And you call me Abe. I never cared for sir at all, since Shakespeare used it as an insult.”
    “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to try this absinthe”

    “I wanted to try this absinthe I heard so much about, supposed to be so evil. Must be good! Hahaha. Actually, I am trying quite seriously to wean myself from spirits generally. I was told I might find General Taylor here, at some point of the day or night.”
    “I meant, to New Orleans, generally.”
    “Oh. I’m quite fond of this little town. I was here before, as a mere boy, on a couple of occasions, but I declare, this far south, and this intolerable humidity, I don’t mind if I do have a drink. If you don’t mind me intruding myself. Please! Carry on with your conversation.” He winked at Shields.
    Malinda asked, “So what’s the best part about being a Congressman?”
    “That’s easy. It’s having access to the Library of Congress. I swear I’ve spent so much time there, I’ve forgotten all about my constituents, practically. I just go from one book to the next, hunting something down, and hours pass before I know it. I became obsessed with this Bank of the United States, and went looking for what there was about it, and at first I didn’t find much, but then, once I got the knack for it, well, I find that there’s kind of a lot, and it goes back further than I ever thought. Back to the very beginnings of our nation, even, but then back further than that. It’s all tied to Europe, and how they want to have a hand in our government here. It just strikes me as odd, ’cause I can’t put my finger on the start of it, or what they really want, or. But shoot! What were you talking about? It must be exciting, what with Walt and Mr. Poe here. See what I mean by obsessed? I can’t get it offa my mind.”
    He reached out his long arm to shake Edgar’s hand.

“Mr. Poe, I love ‘The Raven’! Call me Abe.”

    “Mr. Poe. My wife and I are great admirers of your work. I love ‘The Raven’! Please. Call me Abe.”
    “Thank you kindly, Sir! And I of you. And I of you, a man of integrity, who yet adopts the persona of a simple, unlearned man. But shrewd in the courtroom. Are you a Jew?”
    “Hahaha! Not that I know of, Ed. My father was a mean old drunkard snake, and all my family, though I don’t know much about my family, was just backwoods farmers and no-accounts from Illinois and Kentucky.”
    “You know, I believe we are related.”
    Malinda said, “But tell us what you know about this war with Mexico, and what brings you to New Orleans.”
    “Well, I just don’t like it. The war, I mean; the town, I love: I came here, like I said, as a boy. The war, though. It just doesn’t have anything to do with us. It smells to me like the money powers of Europe again, trying to expand, take over everything. They’re getting their hooks in America, even after we stopped them here in 1812, and it just rubs me the wrong way. This Maximilian is a Habsburg, and there’s a whole lotta anti-Catholic feeling across America, and I think we should just not expand right now, should focus on fixing what’s wrong internally, and that’s a lot.”
    “Slaves.”

“And California. States’ rights.”

    “And California. States’ rights. We’ve mistreated the Indians and the coloreds, and we’re like to do the same thing to the Mexicans, and I don’t want any part of it. I don’t like change. I want things to be simple, not like they really were, but like I always thought they were, when I was a child. See? Politics is boring. Bores even me. But I’m obsessed. And I just wanna get out, go back home, practice law, like I’m used to. Leave the rest for better minds.”
    Malinda said, “But you’re in a position to change everything! Most of us only dream of having that kind of power.”
    “But I don’t think I’ll be in the Congress very much longer. Because of my position—my speeches, my writing, and old Walt here; I mean, I stood up and admitted I was wrong in favoring this war, which I did because I had been given false information. But the war just drags on and on. Gets uglier and uglier. In the Capitol, I used the phrase ‘severest deception,’ which will no doubt effectively end my career in the politics of this great nation. So I thought I better come on down here, see for myself what the situation really was, if I could. I might wanna go on down into Mexico, and I believe General Taylor is of like disposition. He tells me there’s mighty good fishing down in all different parts of the country there, where the catfish get longer than a man gets tall. Truthfully, I’m going to try to talk him into running for president next time.”
    Malinda said, “Gosh! This is so exciting.”
    Walt said, “The general is my friend. Though he’s not here now, he soon will be. He generally is.”

“He’s a Southerner and a slaveholder”

    “Hahaha!” Lincoln sat with them to wait. Walt said, “He’s a Southerner and a slaveholder. Do you have any idea what his position might be?”
    “Well, he’s like me, see, and he’s opposed to the expansion of slavery into any new territories we might get, like California or New Mexico.”
    “Or Mexico,” said Edgar.
    With another wink at Shields, Abe acknowledged all that he knew had not been said, regarding the duel of old....

Copyright © 2022 by Pat Hamilton Pat Hamilton has written three novels, hundreds of songs, and a handful of book reviews for the papers. He taught College English for 30 years, which helps him blend popular and classic literature in his writing. As an Army brat, he traveled the USA and Europe before settling into the beauty of Tennessee, but the rock star he used to be still lives on inside him.