The two Chroniclers: You who have gone gatheringCornflowers and meadowsweet,Heard the hazels glancing downOn September eves,Seen the homeward rooks on wingOver fields of golden wheat,And the silver cups that crownWater-lily leaves;You who know the tendernessOf old men at eve-tide,Coming from the hedgerows,Coming from the plough,And the wandering caressOf winds upon the woodside,When the crying yaffle goesUnderneath the bough;First Chronicler: You who mark the flowingOf sap upon the May-time,And the waters wellingFrom the watershed,You who count the growingOf harvest and hay-time,Knowing these the tellingOf your daily bread;Second Chronicler: You who cherish courtesyWith your fellows at your gate,And about your hearthstone sitUnder love's decrees,You who know that death will beSpeaking with you soon or late,The two together: Kinsmen, what ismother-witBut the light of these?Knowing these, what is there moreFor learning in your little years?Are not these all gospels brightShining on your day?How then shall your hearts be soreWith envy and her brood of fears,How forget the words of lightFrom the mountain-way? ...Blessed are the merciful....Does not every threshold seekMeadows and the flight of birdsFor compassion still?Blessed are the merciful....Are we pilgrims yet to speakOut of Olivet the wordsOf knowledge and good-will?First Chronicler: Two years of darkness, and this man but growsGreater in resolution, more constant in compassion.He goesThe way of dominion in pitiful, high-hearted fashion.
SCENE III.
Nearly two years later.
A small reception room at the White House. MRS. LINCOLN,dressed in a fashion perhaps a little too considered, despairing as she now does of any sartorial grace in her husband, and acutely conscious that she must meet this necessity of office alone, is writing. She rings the bell, andSUSAN,who has taken her promotion more philosophically, comes in.
Mrs. Lincoln: Admit any one who calls, Susan. And enquire whether the President will be in to tea.
Susan: Mr. Lincoln has just sent word that he will be in.
Mrs. Lincoln: Very well.
SUSANis going.
Susan.Susan: Yes, ma'am.
Mrs. Lincoln: You still say Mr. Lincoln. You should say the President.
Susan: Yes, ma'am. But you see, ma'am, it's difficult after calling him Mr. Lincoln for fifteen years.
Mrs. Lincoln: But you must remember. Everybody calls him the President now.
Susan: No, ma'am. There's a good many people call him Father Abraham now. And there's some that like him even better than that. Only to-day Mr. Coldpenny, at the stores, said, "Well, Susan, and how 's old Abe this morning?"
Mrs. Lincoln: I hope you don't encourage them.
Susan: Oh, no, ma'am. I always refer to him as Mr. Lincoln.
Mrs. Lincoln: Yes, but you must say the President.
Susan:I'm afraid I shan't ever learn, ma'am.
Mrs. Lincoln: You must try.
Susan: Yes, of course, ma'am.
Mrs. Lincoln: And bring any visitors up.
Susan: Yes, ma'am. There's a lady waiting now.
Mrs. Lincoln: Then why didn't you say so?
Susan: That's what I was going to, ma'am, when you began to talk about Mr.—I mean the President, ma'am.
Mrs. Lincoln: Well, show her up.
SUSANgoes. MRS. LINCOLNcloses her writing desk.SUSANreturns, showing inMRS. GOLIATH BLOW.
Susan: Mrs. Goliath Blow.
She goes.
Mrs. Blow: Good-afternoon, Mrs. Lincoln.
Mrs. Lincoln: Good-afternoon, Mrs. Blow. Sit down, please.
They sit.
Mrs. Blow: And is the dear President well?
Mrs. Lincoln: Yes. He's rather tired.
Mrs. Blow: Of course, to be sure. This dreadful war. But I hope he's not getting tired of the war.
Mrs. Lincoln: It's a constant anxiety for him. He feels his responsibility very deeply.
Mrs. Blow: To be sure. But you mustn't let him get war-weary. These monsters in the South have got to be stamped out.
Mrs. Lincoln: I don't think you need be afraid of the President's firmness.
Mrs. Blow: Oh, of course not. I was only saying to Goliath yesterday, "The President will never give way till he has the South squealing," and Goliath agreed.
SUSANcomes in.
Susan: Mrs. Otherly, ma'am.
Mrs. Lincoln: Show Mrs. Otherly in.
SUSANgoes.
Mrs. Blow: Oh, that dreadful woman! I believe she wants the war to stop.
Susan (at the door): Mrs. Otherly.
MRS. OTHERLYcomes in andSUSANgoes.
Mrs. Lincoln: Good-afternoon, Mrs. Otherly. You know Mrs. Goliath Blow?
Mrs. Otherly: Yes. Good-afternoon.She sits.
Mrs. Blow: Goliath says the war will go on for another three years at least.
Mrs. Otherly: Three years? That would be terrible, wouldn't it?
Mrs. Blow: We must be prepared to make sacrifices.
Mrs. Otherly: Yes.
Mrs. Blow: It makes my blood boil to think of those people.
Mrs. Otherly: I used to know a lot of them. Some of them were very kind and nice.
Mrs. Blow: That was just their cunning, depend on it. I'm afraid there's a good deal of disloyalty among us. Shall we see the dear President this afternoon, Mrs. Lincoln?
Mrs. Lincoln: He will be here directly, I think.
Mrs. Blow: You 're looking wonderfully well, with all the hard work that you have to do. I've really had to drop some of mine. And with expenses going up, it's all very lowering, don't you think? Goliath and I have had to reduce several of our subscriptions. But, of course, we all have to deny ourselves something. Ah, good-afternoon, dear Mr. President.
LINCOLNcomes in. THE LADIESrise and shake hands with him.
Lincoln: Good-afternoon, ladies.
Mrs. Otherly: Good-afternoon, Mr. President.
They all sit.
Mrs. Blow: And is there any startling news, Mr. President?
Lincoln: Madam, every morning when I wake up, and say to myself, a hundred, or two hundred, or a thousand of my countrymen will be killed to-day, I find it startling.
Mrs. Blow: Oh, yes, of course, to be sure. But I mean, is there any good news.
Lincoln: Yes. There is news of a victory. They lost twenty-seven hundred men—we lost eight hundred.
Mrs. Blow: How splendid!
Lincoln: Thirty-five hundred.
Mrs. Blow: Oh, but you mustn't talk like that, Mr. President. There were only eight hundred that mattered.
Lincoln: The world is larger than your heart, madam.
Mrs. Blow: Now the dear President is becoming whimsical, Mrs. Lincoln.
SUSANbrings in tea-tray, and hands tea round.LINCOLNtakes none. SUSANgoes.
Mrs. Otherly: Mr. President.
Lincoln: Yes, ma'am.
Mrs. Otherly: I don't like to impose upon your hospitality. I know how difficult everything is for you. But one has to take one's opportunities. May I ask you a question?
Lincoln: Certainly, ma'am.
Mrs. Otherly: Isn't it possible for you to stop this war? In the name of a suffering country, I ask you that.
Mrs. Blow: I'm sure such a question would never have entered my head.
Lincoln: It is a perfectly right question. Ma'am, I have but one thought always—how can this thing be stopped? But we must ensure the integrity of the Union. In two years war has become an hourly bitterness to me. I believe I suffer no less than any man. But it must be endured. The cause was a right one two years ago. It is unchanged.
Mrs. Otherly: I know you are noble and generous. But I believe that war must be wrong under any circumstances, for any cause.
Mrs. Blow: I'm afraid the President would have but little encouragement if he listened often to this kind of talk.
Lincoln: I beg you not to harass yourself, madam. Ma'am, I too believe war to be wrong. It is the weakness and the jealousy and the folly of men that make a thing so wrong possible. But we are all weak, and jealous, and foolish. That's how the world is, ma'am, and we cannot outstrip the world. Some of the worst of us are sullen, aggressive still—just clumsy, greedy pirates. Some of us have grown out of that. But the best of us have an instinct to resist aggression if it won't listen to persuasion. You may say it's a wrong instinct. I don't know. But it's there, and it's there in millions of good men. I don't believe it's a wrong instinct, I believe that the world must come to wisdom slowly. It is for us who hate aggression to persuade men always and earnestly against it, and hope that, little by little, they will hear us. But in the mean time there will come moments when the aggressors will force the instinct to resistance to act. Then we must act earnestly, praying always in our courage that never again will this thing happen. And then we must turn again, and again, and again to persuasion. This appeal to force is the misdeed of an imperfect world. But we are imperfect. We must strive to purify the world, but we must not think ourselves pure above the world. When I had this thing to decide, it would have been easy to say, "No, I will have none of it; it is evil, and I will not touch it." But that would have decided nothing, and I saw what I believed to be the truth as I now put it to you, ma'am. It's a forlorn thing for any man to have this responsibility in his heart. I may see wrongly, but that's how I see.
Mrs. Blow: I quite agree with you, Mr. President. These brutes in the South must be taught, though I doubt whether you can teach them anything except by destroying them. That's what Goliath says.
Lincoln: Goliath must be getting quite an old man.
Mrs. Blow: Indeed, he's not, Mr. President Goliath is only thirty-eight.
Lincoln: Really, now? Perhaps I might be able to get him a commission.
Mrs. Blow: Oh, no. Goliath couldn't be spared. He's doing contracts for the government, you know. Goliath couldn't possibly go. I'm sure he will be very pleased when I tell him what you say about these people who want to stop the war, Mr. President. I hope Mrs. Otherly is satisfied. Of course, we could all complain. We all have to make sacrifices, as I told Mrs. Otherly.
Mrs. Otherly: Thank you, Mr. President, for what you've said. I must try to think about it. But I always believed war to be wrong. I didn't want my boy to go, because I believed it to be wrong. But he would. That came to me last week.
She hands a paper toLINCOLN.
Lincoln (looks at it, rises, and hands it back to her): Ma'am, there are times when no man may speak. I grieve for you, I grieve for you.
Mrs. Otherly (rising): I think I will go. You don't mind my saying what I did?
Lincoln: We are all poor creatures, ma'am. Think kindly of me. (He takes her hand.) Mary.
MRS. LINCOLNgoes out withMRS. OTHERLY.
Mrs. Blow: Of course it's very sad for her, poor woman. But she makes her trouble worse by these perverted views, doesn't she? And, I hope you will show no signs of weakening, Mr. President, till it has been made impossible for those shameful rebels to hold up their heads again. Goliath says you ought to make a proclamation that no mercy will be shown to them afterwards. I'm sure I shall never speak to one of them again.
Rising.
Well, I must be going. I'll see Mrs. Lincoln as I go out. Good-afternoon, Mr. President.She turns at the door, and offersLINCOLNher handy which he does not take.
Lincoln: Good-afternoon, madam. And I'd like to offer ye a word of advice. That poor mother told me what she thought. I don't agree with her, but I honour her. She's wrong, but she is noble. You've told me what you think. I don't agree with you, and I'm ashamed of you and your like. You, who have sacrificed nothing, babble about destroying the South while other people conquer it. I accepted this war with a sick heart, and I've a heart that's near to breaking every day. I accepted it in the name of humanity, and just and merciful dealing, and the hope of love and charity on earth. And you come to me, talking of revenge and destruction, and malice, and enduring hate. These gentle people are mistaken, but they are mistaken cleanly, and in a great name. It is you that dishonour the cause for which we stand—it is you who would make it a mean and little thing. Good-afternoon.
He opens the door andMRS. BLOW,finding words inadequate, goes. LINCOLNmoves across the room and rings a bell. After a moment,SUSANcomes in. Susan, if that lady comes here again she may meet with an accident.
Susan: Yes, sir. Is that all, sir?
Lincoln: No, sir, it is not all, sir. I don't like this coat. I am going to change it. I shall be back in a minute or two, and if a gentleman named Mr. William Custis calls, ask him to wait in here.
He goes out. SUSANcollects the teacups. As she is going to the door a quiet, grave white-haired negro appears facing her. SUSANstarts violently.
The Negro (he talks slowly and very quietly): It is all right.
Susan: And who in the name of night might you be?
The Negro: Mista William Custis. Mista Lincoln tell me to come here. Nobody stop me, so I come to look for him.
Susan: Are you Mr. William Custis?
Custis: Yes.
Susan: Mr. Lincoln will be here directly. He's gone to change his coat. You'd better sit down.
Custis: Yes.
He does so, looking about him with a certain pathetic inquisitiveness. Mista Lincoln live here. You his servant? A very fine thing for young girl to be servant to Mista Lincoln.
Susan: Well, we get on very well together.
Custis: A very bad thing to be slave in South.
Susan: Look here, you Mr. Custis, don't you go mixing me up with slaves.
Custis: No, you not slave. You servant, but you free body. That very mighty thing. A poor servant, born free.
Susan: Yes, but look here, are you pitying me, with your poor servant?
Custis: Pity? No. I think you very mighty.
Susan: Well, I don't know so much about mighty. But I expect you're right. It isn't every one that rises to the White House.
Custis: It not every one that is free body. That is why you mighty.
Susan: I've never thought much about it.
Custis:I think always about it.
Susan: I suppose you're free, aren't you?
Custis: Yes. Not born free. I was beaten when I a little nigger. I saw my mother—I will not remember what I saw.
Susan: I'm sorry, Mr. Custis. That was wrong.
Custis: Yes. Wrong.
Susan: Are all nig—I mean are all black gentlemen like you?
Custis: No. I have advantages. They not many have advantages.
Susan: No, I suppose not. Here's Mr. Lincoln coming.
LINCOLN,coated after his heart's desire, comes to the door. CUSTISrises. This is the gentleman you said, sir.
She goes out with the tray.
Lincoln:Mr. Custis, I'm very glad to see you.He offers his hand. CUSTIStakes it, and is about to kiss it. LINCOLNstops him gently. (Sitting):Sit down, will you?Custis (still standing, keeping his hat in his hand):It very kind of Mista Lincoln ask me to come to see him.
Lincoln: I was afraid you might refuse.
Custis:A little shy? Yes. But so much to ask Glad to come.
Lincoln: Please sit down.
Custis: Polite?
Lincoln: Please. I can't sit myself, you see, if you don't.
Custis: Black, black. White, white.
Lincoln: Nonsense. Just two old men, sitting together (CUSTISsits toLINCOLN'Sgesture)—and talking.
Custis: I think I older man than Mista Lincoln.
Lincoln: Yes, I expect you are, I'm fifty-four.
Custis: I seventy-two.
Lincoln: I hope I shall look as young when I'm seventy-two.
Custis: Cold water. Much walk. Believe in Lord Jesus Christ. Have always little herbs learnt when a little nigger. Mista Lincoln try. Very good.
He hands a small twist of paper toLINCOLN.
Lincoln: Now, that's uncommon kind of you. Thank you. I've heard much about your preaching, Mr. Custis.
Custis: Yes.
Lincoln: I should like to hear you.
Custis: Mista Lincoln great friend of my people.
Lincoln: I have come at length to a decision.
Custis: A decision?
Lincoln: Slavery is going. We have been resolved always to confine it. Now it shall be abolished.
Custis: You sure?
Lincoln: Sure.
CUSTISslowly stands up, bows his head, and sits again.
Custis: My people much to learn. Years, and years, and years. Ignorant, frightened, suspicious people. It will be difficult, very slow. (With growing passion.) But born free bodies. Free. I born slave, Mista Lincoln. No man understand who not born slave.
Lincoln: Yes, yes. I understand.
Custis (with his normal regularity): I think so. Yes.
Lincoln: I should like you to ask me any question you wish.
Custis: I have some complaint. Perhaps I not understand.
Lincoln: Tell me.
Custis: Southern soldiers take some black men prisoner. Black men in your uniform. Take them prisoner. Then murder them.
Lincoln: I know.
Custis: What you do?
Lincoln: We have sent a protest.
Custis: No good. Must do more.
Lincoln: What more can we do?
Custis: You know.
Lincoln: Yes; but don't ask me for reprisals.
Custis (gleaming): Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.
Lincoln: No, no. You must think. Think what you are saying.
Custis: I think of murdered black men.
Lincoln: You would not ask me to murder?
Custis: Punish—not murder.
Lincoln: Yes, murder. How can I kill men in cold blood for what has been done by others? Think what would follow. It is for us to set a great example, not to follow a wicked one. You do believe that, don't you?
Custis (after a pause): I know. Yes. Let your light so shine before men. I trust Mista Lincoln. Will trust. I was wrong. I was too sorry for my people.
Lincoln: Will you remember this? For more than two years I have thought of you every day. I have grown a weary man with thinking. But I shall not forget. I promise that.
Custis: You great, kind friend. I will love you.
A knock at the door.
Lincoln:Yes.
SUSANcomes in.
Susan: An officer gentleman. He says it's very important.
Lincoln: I'll come.
He andCUSTISrise.
Wait, will you, Mr. Custis? I want to ask you some questions.
He goes out. It is getting dark, andSUSANlights a lamp and draws the curtains. CUSTISstands by the door looking afterLINCOLN.
Custis: He very good man.
Susan: You've found that out, have you?
Custis: Do you love him, you white girl?
Susan: Of course I do.
Custis: Yes, you must.
Susan: He's a real white man. No offence, of course.
Custis: Not offend. He talk to me as if black no difference.
Susan: But I tell you what, Mr. Custis. He'll kill himself over this war, his heart's that kind—like a shorn lamb, as they say.
Custis: Very unhappy war.
Susan: But I suppose he's right. It's got to go on till it's settled.
In the street below a body of people is heard approaching, singing "John Brown's Body" CUSTISandSUSANstand listening, SUSANjoining in the song as it passes and fades away.
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
First Chronicler: Unchanged our time. And further yetIn loneliness must be the way,And difficult and deep the debtOf constancy to pay.Second Chronicler: And one denies,and one forsakes.And still unquestioning he goes,Who has his lonely thoughts, and makes.A world of those.The two together: When the high heart we magnify,And the sure vision celebrate,And worship greatness passing by,Ourselves are great.
SCENE IV.
About the same date. A meeting of the Cabinet at Washington. SMITHhas gone andCAMERONhas been replaced byEDWIN M. STANTON,Secretary of War. Otherwise the ministry, completed bySEWARD, CHASE, HOOK, BLAIR,andWELLES,is as before. They are now arranging themselves at the table, leavingLINCOLN'Splace empty.
Seward (coming in): I've just had my summons. Is there some special news?
Stanton: Yes. McClellan has defeated Lee at Antietam. It's our greatest success. They ought not to recover from it. The tide is turning.
Blair: Have you seen the President?
Stanton: I've just been with him.
Welles: What does he say?
Stanton: He only said, "At last." He's coming directly.
Hook: He will bring up his proclamation again. In my opinion it is inopportune.
Seward: Well, we've learnt by now that the President is the best man among us.
Hook: There's a good deal of feeling against him everywhere, I find.
Blair: He's the one man with character enough for this business.
Hook: There are other opinions.
Seward: Yes, but not here, surely.
Hook: It's not for me to say. But I ask you, what does he mean about emancipation? I've always understood that it was the Union we were fighting for, and that abolition was to be kept in our minds for legislation at the right moment. And now one day he talks as though emancipation were his only concern, and the next as though he would throw up the whole idea, if by doing it he could secure peace with the establishment of the Union. Where are we?
Seward: No, you're wrong. It's the Union first now with him, but there's no question about his views on slavery. You know that perfectly well. But he has always kept his policy about slavery free in his mind, to be directed as he thought best for the sake of the Union. You remember his words: "If I could save the Union without freeing any slaves, I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving others alone, I would also do that. My paramount object in this struggle is to save the Union." Nothing could be plainer than that, just as nothing could be plainer than his determination to free the slaves when he can.
Hook: Well, there are some who would have acted differently.
Blair: And you may depend upon it they would not have acted so wisely.
Stanton: I don't altogether agree with the President. But he's the only man I should agree with at all.
Hook: To issue the proclamation now, and that's what he will propose, mark my words, will be to confuse the public mind just when we want to keep it clear.
Welles: Are you sure he will propose to issue it now?
Hook: You see if he doesn't.
Welles: If he does I shall support him.
Seward: Is Lee's army broken?
Stanton: Not yet—but it is in grave danger.
Hook: Why doesn't the President come? One would think this news was nothing.
Chase: I must say I'm anxious to know what he has to say about it all.
A CLERKcomes in.
Clerk: The President's compliments, and he will be here in a moment.
He goes.
Hook: I shall oppose it if it comes up.
Chase: He may say nothing about it.
Seward: I think he will.
Stanton: Anyhow, it's the critical moment.
Blair: Here he comes.
LINCOLNcomes in carrying a small book.
Lincoln: Good-morning, gentlemen.
He takes his place.
The Ministers: Good-morning, Mr. President.
Seward: Great news, we hear.
Hook: If we leave things with the army to take their course for a little now, we ought to see through our difficulties.
Lincoln: It's an exciting morning, gentlemen. I feel rather excited myself. I find my mind not at its best in excitement. Will you allow me?
Opening his book.
It may compose us all. It is Mr. Artemus Ward's latest.
THE MINISTERS,with the exception ofHOOK,who makes no attempt to hide his irritation, andSTANTON,who would do the same but for his disapproval ofHOOK,listen with good-humoured patience and amusement while he reads the following passage from Artemus Ward.
"High Handed Outrage at Utica."
"In the Faul of 1856, I showed my show in Utiky, a trooly grate city in the State of New York. The people gave me a cordyal recepshun. The press was loud in her prases. 1 day as I was givin a descripshun of my Beests and Snaiks in my usual flowry stile what was my skorn and disgust to see a big burly feller walk up to the cage containin my wax figgers of the Lord's last Supper, and cease Judas Iscarrot by the feet and drag him out on the ground. He then commenced fur to pound him as hard as he cood."
"'What under the son are you abowt,' cried I."
"Sez he, 'What did you bring this pussylanermus cuss here fur?' and he hit the wax figger another tremenjis blow on the bed."
"Sez I, 'You egrejus ass, that airs a wax figger—a representashun of the false 'Postle.'"
"Sez he, 'That's all very well fur you to say; but I tell you, old man, that Judas Iscarrot can't show himself in Utiky with impunerty by a darn site,' with which observashun he kaved in Judassis hed. The young man belonged to 1 of the first famerlies in Utiky. I sood him, and the Joory brawt in a verdick of Arson in the 3d degree."
Stanton: May we now consider affairs of state?
Hook: Yes, we may.
Lincoln: Mr. Hook says, yes, we may.
Stanton: Thank you.
Lincoln: Oh, no. Thank Mr. Hook.
Seward: McClellan is in pursuit of Lee, I suppose.
Lincoln: You suppose a good deal. But for the first time McClellan has the chance of being in pursuit of Lee, and that's the first sign of their end. If McClellan doesn't take his chance, we'll move Grant down to the job. That will mean delay, but no matter. The mastery has changed hands.
Blair: Grant drinks.
Lincoln: Then tell me the name of his brand. I'll send some barrels to the others. He wins victories.
Hook: Is there other business?
Lincoln: There is. Some weeks ago I showed you a draft I made proclaiming freedom for all slaves.
Hook (aside to Welles): I told you so.
Lincoln: You thought then it was not the time to issue it. I agreed. I think the moment has come. May I read it to you again? "It is proclaimed that on the first day of January in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any state, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free." That allows three months from to-day. There are clauses dealing with compensation in a separate draft.
Hook: I must oppose the issue of such a proclamation at this moment in the most unqualified terms. This question should be left until our victory is complete. To thrust it forward now would be to invite dissension when we most need unity.
Welles: I do not quite understand, Mr. President, why you think this the precise moment.
Lincoln: Believe me, gentlemen, I have considered this matter with all the earnestness and understanding of which I am capable.
Hook: But when the "New York Tribune" urged you to come forward with a clear declaration six months ago, you rebuked them.
Lincoln: Because I thought the occasion not the right one. It was useless to issue a proclamation that might be as inoperative as the Pope's bull against the comet. My duty, it has seemed to me, has been to be loyal to a principle, and not to betray it by expressing it in action at the wrong time. That is what I conceive statesmanship to be. For long now I have had two fixed resolves. To preserve the Union, and to abolish slavery. How to preserve the Union I was always clear, and more than two years of bitterness have not dulled my vision. We have fought for the Union, and we are now winning for the Union. When and how to proclaim abolition I have all this time been uncertain. I am uncertain no longer. A few weeks ago I saw that, too, clearly. So soon, I said to myself, as the rebel army shall be driven out of Maryland, and it becomes plain to the world that victory is assured to us in the end, the time will have come to announce that with that victory and a vindicated Union will come abolition. I made the promise to myself—and to my Maker. The rebel army is now driven out, and I am going to fulfil that promise. I do not wish your advice about the main matter, for that I have determined for myself. This I say without intending anything but respect for any one of you. But I beg you to stand with me in this thing.
Hook: In my opinion, it's altogether too impetuous.
Lincoln: One other observation I will make. I know very well that others might in this matter, as in others, do better than I can, and if I was satisfied that the public confidence was more fully possessed by any one of them than by me, and knew of any constitutional way in which he could be put in my place, he should have it. I would gladly yield it to him. But, though I cannot claim undivided confidence, I do not know that, all things considered, any other person has more; and, however this may be, there is no way in which I can have any other man put where I am. I am here; I must do the best I can, and bear the responsibility of taking the course which I feel I ought to take.
Stanton: Could this be left over a short time for consideration?
Chase: I feel that we should remember that our only public cause at the moment is the preservation of the Union.
Hook: I entirely agree.
Lincoln: Gentlemen, we cannot escape history. We of this administration will be remembered in spite of ourselves. No personal significance or insignificance can spare one or another of us. In giving freedom to the slave we assure freedom to the free. We shall nobly save or meanly lose the last, best hope on earth.
He places the proclamation in front of him.
"Shall be thenceforward and forever free."
Gentlemen, I pray for your support.
He signs it.
THE MINISTERSrise. SEWARD, WELLES,andBLAIRshakeLINCOLN'Shand and go out. STANTONandCHASEbow to him, and follow. HOOK,the last to rise, moves away, making no sign.
Lincoln:Hook.
Hook: Yes, Mr. President.
Lincoln: Hook, one cannot help hearing things.
Hook: I beg your pardon?
Lincoln: Hook, there's a way some people have, when a man says a disagreeable thing, of asking him to repeat it, hoping to embarrass him. It's often effective. But I'm not easily embarrassed. I said one cannot help hearing things.
Hook: And I do not understand what you mean, Mr. President.
Lincoln: Come, Hook, we're alone. Lincoln is a good enough name. And I think you understand.
Hook: How should I?
Lincoln: Then, plainly, there are intrigues going on.
Hook: Against the government?
Lincoln: No. In it. Against me.
Hook: Criticism, perhaps.
Lincoln: To what end? To better my ways?
Hook: I presume that might be the purpose.
Lincoln: Then, why am I not told what it is?
Hook: I imagine it's a natural compunction.
Lincoln: Or ambition?
Hook: What do you mean?
Lincoln: You think you ought to be in my place.
Hook: You are well informed.
Lincoln: You cannot imagine why every one does not see that you ought to be in my place.
Hook: By what right do you say that?
Lincoln: Is it not true?
Hook: You take me unprepared. You have me at a disadvantage.
Lincoln: You speak as a very scrupulous man, Hook.
Hook: Do you question my honour?
Lincoln: As you will.
Hook: Then I resign.
Lincoln: As a protest against ...?
Hook: Your suspicion.
Lincoln: It is false?
Hook: Very well, I will be frank. I mistrust your judgment.
Lincoln: In what?
Hook: Generally. You over-emphasise abolition.
Lincoln: You don't mean that. You mean that you fear possible public feeling against abolition.
Hook: It must be persuaded, not forced.
Lincoln: All the most worthy elements in it are persuaded. But the ungenerous elements make the most noise, and you hear them only. You will run from the terrible name of Abolitionist even when it is pronounced by worthless creatures whom you know you have every reason to despise.
Hook: You have, in my opinion, failed in necessary firmness in saying what will be the individual penalties of rebellion.
Lincoln: This is a war. I will not allow it to become a blood-feud.
Hook: We are fighting treason. We must meet it with severity.
Lincoln: We will defeat treason. And I will meet it with conciliation.
Hook: It is a policy of weakness.
Lincoln: It is a policy of faith—it is a policy of compassion.(Warmly.) Hook, why do you plague me with these jealousies? Once before I found a member of my Cabinet working behind my back. But he was disinterested, and he made amends nobly. But, Hook, you have allowed the burden of these days to sour you. I know it all. I've watched you plotting and plotting for authority. And I, who am a lonely man, have been sick at heart. So great is the task God has given to my hand, and so few are my days, and my deepest hunger is always for loyalty in my own house. You have withheld it from me. You have done great service in your office, but you have grown envious. Now you resign, as you did once before when I came openly to you in friendship. And you think that again I shall flatter you and coax you to stay. I don't think I ought to do it. I will not do it. I must take you at your word.
Hook: I am content.
He turns to go.
Lincoln: Will you shake hands?
Hook: I beg you will excuse me.
He goes. LINCOLNstands silently for a moment, a travelled, lonely captain. He rings a bell, and aCLERKcomes in.
Lincoln:Ask Mr. Hay to come in.
Clerk: Yes, sir.
He goes. LINCOLN,from the folds of his pockets, produces another book, and holds it unopened. HAYcomes in.
Lincoln: I'm rather tired to-day, Hay. Read to me a little. (He hands him the book.) "The Tempest"—you know the passage.
Hay (reading):
Our revels now are ended; these our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits, andAre melted into air, into thin air;And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolveAnd, like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuffAs dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep.
Lincoln: We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life ...
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
First Chronicler: Two years again.Desolation of battle, and long debate,Counsels and prayers of men,And bitterness of destruction and witless hate,And the shame of lie contending with lie,Are spending themselves, and the brainThat set its lonely chart four years gone by,Knowing the word fulfilled,Comes with charity and communion to bringTo reckoning,To reconcile and build.The two together: What victor coming from the fieldLeaving the victim desolate,But has a vulnerable shieldAgainst the substances of fate?That battle's won that leads in chainsBut retribution and despite,And bids misfortune count her gainsNot stricken in a penal night.His triumph is but bitternessWho looks not to the starry doomWhen proud and humble but possessThe little kingdom of the tomb.Who, striking home, shall not forgive,Strikes with a weak returning rod,Claiming a fond prerogativeAgainst the armoury of God.Who knows, and for his knowledge standsAgainst the darkness in dispute,And dedicates industrious hands,And keeps a spirit resolute,Prevailing in the battle, thenA steward of his word is made,To bring it honour among men,Or know his captaincy betrayed.
SCENE V.
An April evening in 1865. A farmhouse near Appomattox. GENERAL GRANT,Commander-in-Chief, under Lincoln, of the Northern armies, is seated at a table withCAPTAIN MALINS,an aide-de-camp. He is smoking a cigar, and at intervals he replenishes his glass of whiskey. DENNIS,an orderly, sits at a table in the corner, writing.
Grant (consulting a large watch lying in front of him): An hour and a half. There ought to be something more from Meade by now. Dennis.
Dennis (coming to the table): Yes, sir.
Grant: Take these papers to Captain Templeman, and ask Colonel West if the twenty-third are in action yet. Tell the cook to send some soup at ten o'clock. Say it was cold yesterday.
Dennis: Yes, sir.
He goes.
Grant: Give me that map, Malins.
MALINShands him the map at which he is working.
(After studying it in silence): Yes. There's no doubt about it. Unless Meade goes to sleep it can only be a question of hours. Lee's a great man, but he can't get out of that.
Making a ring on the map with his finger.
Malins (taking the map again): This ought to be the end, sir.
Grant: Yes. If Lee surrenders, we can all pack up for home.
Malins: By God, sir, it will be splendid, won't it, to be back again?
Grant: By God, sir, it will.
Malins: I beg your pardon, sir.
Grant: You're quite right, Malins. My boy goes away to school next week. Now I may be able to go down with him and see him settled.
DENNIScomes back.
Dennis: Colonel West says, yes, sir, for the last half-hour. The cook says he's sorry, sir. It was a mistake.
Grant: Tell him to keep his mistakes in the kitchen.
Dennis: I will, sir.
He goes back to his place.
Grant (at his papers): Those rifles went up this afternoon?
Malins: Yes, sir.
AnotherORDERLYcomes in.
Orderly: Mr. Lincoln has just arrived, sir. He's in the yard now.
Grant: All right, I'll come.
THE ORDERLYgoes. GRANTrises and crosses to the door, but is met there byLINCOLNandHAY. LINCOLN,in top boots and tall hat that has seen many campaigns, shakes hands withGRANTand takesMALINS'Ssalute.
Grant:I wasn't expecting you, sir.
Lincoln: No; but I couldn't keep away. How's it going?
They sit.
Grant: Meade sent word an hour and a half ago that Lee was surrounded all but two miles, which was closing in.
Lincoln: That ought about to settle it, eh?
Grant: Unless anything goes wrong in those two miles, sir. I'm expecting a further report from Meade every minute.
Lincoln: Would there be more fighting?
Grant: It will probably mean fighting through the night, more or less. But Lee must realise it's hopeless by the morning.
An Orderly (entering): A despatch, sir.
Grant: Yes.
THE ORDERLYgoes, and aYOUNG OFFICERcomes in from the field. He salutes and hands a despatch toGRANT.
Officer: From General Meade, sir.
Grant (taking it): Thank you.
He opens it and reads.
You needn't wait.
THE OFFICERsalutes and goes.
Yes, they've closed the ring. Meade gives them ten hours. It's timed at eight. That's six o'clock in the morning.
He hands the despatch toLINCOLN.
Lincoln: We must be merciful. Bob Lee has been a gallant fellow.
Grant (taking a paper): Perhaps you'll look through this list, sir. I hope it's the last we shall have.
Lincoln (taking the paper): It's a horrible part of the business, Grant. Any shootings?
Grant: One.
Lincoln: Damn it, Grant, why can't you do without it? No, no, of course not? Who is it?
Grant: Malins.
Malins (opening a book): William Scott, sir. It's rather a hard case.
Lincoln: What is it?
Malins: He had just done a heavy march, sir, and volunteered for double guard duty to relieve a sick friend. He was found asleep at his post.
He shuts the book.
Grant: I was anxious to spare him. But it couldn't be done. It was a critical place, at a gravely critical time.
Lincoln: When is it to be?
Matins: To-morrow, at daybreak, sir.
Lincoln: I don't see that it will do him any good to be shot. Where is he?
Malins: Here, sir.
Lincoln: Can I go and see him?
Grant: Where is he?
Malins: In the barn, I believe, sir.
Grant: Dennis.
Dennis (coming from his table): Yes, sir.
Grant: Ask them to bring Scott in here.
DENNISgoes.
I want to see Colonel West. Malins, ask Templeman if those figures are ready yet.
He goes, andMALINSfollows.
Lincoln:Will you, Hay?
HAYgoes. After a moment, during whichLINCOLNtakes the book thatMALINShas been reading from, and looks into it, WILLIAM SCOTTis brought in under guard. He is a boy of twenty.
Lincoln (to theGUARD): Thank you. Wait outside, will you?
TheMENsalute and withdraw.
Are you William Scott?
Scott: Yes, sir.
Lincoln: You know who I am?
Scott: Yes, sir.
Lincoln: The General tells me you've been court-martialled.
Scott: Yes sir.
Lincoln: Asleep on guard?
Scott: Yes, sir.
Lincoln: It's a very serious offence.
Scott: I know, sir.
Lincoln: What was it?
Scott (a pause): I couldn't keep awake, sir.
Lincoln: You'd had a long march?
Scott: Twenty-three miles, sir.
Lincoln: You were doing double guard?
Scott: Yes, sir.
Lincoln: Who ordered you?
Scott: Well, sir, I offered.
Lincoln: Why?
Scott: Enoch White—he was sick, sir. We come from the same place.
Lincoln: Where's that?
Scott: Vermont, sir.
Lincoln: You live there?
Scott: Yes, sir. My ... we've got a farm down there, sir.
Lincoln: Who has?
Scott: My mother, sir. I've got her photograph, sir.
He takes it from his pocket.
Lincoln (taking it): Does she know about this?
Scott: For God's sake, don't, sir.
Lincoln: There, there, my boy. You're not going to be shot.
Scott (after a pause): Not going to be shot, sir.
Lincoln: No, no.
Scott: Not—going—to—be—shot.
He breaks down, sobbing.
Lincoln (rising and going to him): There, there. I believe you when you tell me that you couldn't keep awake. I'm going to trust you, and send you back to your regiment.
He goes back to his seat.
Scott:When may I go back, sir?
Lincoln: You can go back to-morrow. I expect the fighting will be over, though.
Scott: Is it over yet, sir?
Lincoln: Not quite.
Scott: Please, sir, let me go back to-night—let me go back to-night.
Lincoln: Very well.
He writes.
Do you know where General Meade is?
Scott: No, sir.
Lincoln: Ask one of those men to come here.
SCOTTcalls one of his guards in.
Lincoln:Your prisoner is discharged. Take him at once to General Meade with this.
He hands a note to the man.
The Soldier: Yes, sir.
Scott: Thank you, sir.
He salutes and goes out with theSOLDIER.
Lincoln: Hay.
Hay (outside): Yes, sir.
He comes in.
Lincoln: What's the time?
Hay (looking at the watch on the table): Just on half-past nine, sir.
Lincoln: I shall sleep here for a little. You'd better shake down too. They'll wake us if there's any news.
LINCOLNwraps himself up on two chairs.
HAYfollows suit on a bench. After a few momentsGRANTcomes to the door, sees what has happened, blows out the candles quietly, and goes away.
THE CURTAIN FALLS.