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diff --git a/11172-0.txt b/11172-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02061e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/11172-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3231 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11172 *** + +ABRAHAM LINCOLN + +A play by JOHN DRINKWATER + +With an introduction by ARNOLD BENNETT + +[Illustration: The Riverside Press] + + +1919 + + + +To THE LORD CHARNWOOD + +NOTE + + +In using for purposes of drama a personality of so wide and recent a +fame as that of Abraham Lincoln, I feel that one or two observations +are due to my readers and critics. + +First, my purpose is that not of the historian but of the dramatist. +The historical presentation of my hero has been faithfully made in +many volumes; notably, in England, by Lord Charnwood in a monograph +that gives a masterly analysis of Lincoln's career and character and +is, it seems to me, a model of what the historian's work should be. To +this book I am gratefully indebted for the material of my play. But +while I have, I hope, done nothing to traverse history, I have freely +telescoped its events, and imposed invention upon its movement, +in such ways as I needed to shape the dramatic significance of my +subject. I should add that the fictitious Burnet Hook is admitted +to the historical company of Lincoln's Cabinet for the purpose of +embodying certain forces that were antagonistic to the President. This +was a dramatic necessity, and I chose rather to invent a character for +the purpose than to invest any single known personage with sinister +qualities about which there might be dispute. + +Secondly, my purpose is, again, that of the dramatist, not that of the +political philosopher. The issue of secession was a very intricate +one, upon which high and generous opinions may be in conflict, but +that I may happen to have or lack personal sympathy with Lincoln's +policy and judgment in this matter is nothing. My concern is with the +profoundly dramatic interest of his character, and with the inspiring +example of a man who handled war nobly and with imagination. + +Finally, I am an Englishman, and not a citizen of the great country +that gave Lincoln birth. I have, therefore, written as an Englishman, +making no attempt to achieve a "local colour" of which I have no +experience, or to speak in an idiom to which I have not been bred. To +have done otherwise, as I am sure any American friends that this play +may have the good fortune to make will allow, would have been to treat +a great subject with levity._ + + +J.D. _Far Oakridge, July-August, 1918_ + + + +INTRODUCTORY NOTE + + +This play was originally produced by the Birmingham Repertory Theatre +last year, and it had a great success in Birmingham. But if its +author had not happened to be the artistic director of the Birmingham +Repertory Theatre the play might never have been produced there. +The rumour of the provincial success reached London, with the usual +result--that London managers magnificently ignored it. I have myself +spoken with a very well-known London actor-manager who admitted to me +that he had refused the play. + +When Nigel Playfair, in conjunction with myself as a sort of +Chancellor of the Exchequer, started the Hammersmith Playhouse (for +the presentation of the best plays that could be got) we at once +began to inquire into the case of Abraham Lincoln. Nigel Playfair was +absolutely determined to have the play and the Birmingham company to +act it. I read the play and greatly admired it. We secured both +the play and the company. The first Hammersmith performance was a +tremendous success, both for the author of the play and for William J. +Rea, the Irish actor who in the rôle of Lincoln was merely great. The +audience cried. + +I should have cried myself, but for my iron resolve not to stain a +well-earned reputation for callousness. As I returned home that night +from what are known as "the wilds of Hammersmith" (Hammersmith is a +suburb of London) I said to myself: "This play is bound to succeed" +The next moment I said to myself: "This play cannot possibly succeed. +It has no love interest. It is a political play. Its theme is the +threatened separation of the Southern States from the Northern States. +Nobody ever heard of a play with such an absurd theme reaching +permanent success. No author before John Drinkwater ever had the +effrontery to impose such a theme on a London public." + +My instinct was right and my reason was wrong. The play did succeed. +It is still succeeding, and it will continue to succeed. Nobody can +dine out in London to-day and admit without a blush that he has not +seen ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Monarchs and princes have seen it. Archbishops +have seen it. Statesmen without number have seen it. An ex-Lord +Chancellor told me that he had journeyed out into the said wilds and +was informed at the theatre that there were no seats left. He could +not believe that he would have to return from the wilds unsatisfied. +But so it fell out. West End managers have tried to coax the play from +Hammersmith to the West End. They could not do it. We have contrived +to make all London come to Hammersmith to see a play without a +love-interest or a bedroom scene, and the play will remain at +Hammersmith. Americans will more clearly realize what John Drinkwater +has achieved with the London public if they imagine somebody putting +on a play about the Crimean War at some unknown derelict theatre round +about Two Hundred and Fiftieth Street, and drawing all New York to Two +Hundred and Fiftieth Street. + +ABRAHAM LINCOLN has pleased everybody, and its triumph is the best +justification of those few who held that the public was capable of +liking much better plays than were offered to the public. Why has +ABRAHAM LINCOLN succeeded? Here are a few answers to the question: +Because the author had a deep, practical knowledge of the stage. +Because he disdained all stage tricks. Because he had the wit to +select for his hero one of the world's greatest and finest characters. +Because he had the audacity to select a gigantic theme and to handle +it with simplicity. Because he had the courage of all his artistic and +moral convictions. And of course because he has a genuine dramatic +gift. Finally, because William J. Rea plays Lincoln with the utmost +nobility of emotional power. + +Every audience has the same experience at ABRAHAM LINCOLN, and I laugh +privately when I think of that experience. The curtain goes up on a +highly commonplace little parlour, and a few ordinary people chatting +in a highly commonplace manner. They keep on chatting. The audience +thinks to itself: "I've been done! What is this interminable small +talk?" And it wants to call out a protest: "Hi! You fellows on the +stage! Have you forgotten that there is an audience on the other +side of the footlights, waiting for something to happen?" (Truly the +ordinary people in the parlour do seem to be unaware of the existence +of any audience.) But wait, audience! Already the author is winding +his chains about you. Though you may not suspect it, you are already +bound.... At the end of the first scene the audience, vaguely feeling +the spell, wonders what on earth the nature of the spell is. At the +end of the play it is perhaps still wondering what precisely the +nature of the spell is.... But it fully and rapturously admits the +reality of the spell. Indeed after the fall of the curtain, and after +many falls of the curtain, the spell persists; the audience somehow +cannot leave its seats, and the thought of the worry of the journey +home and of last 'busses and trains is banished. Strange phenomenon! +It occurs every night. + +ARNOLD BENNETT _April 1919_ + + + + + +ABRAHAM LINCOLN + + + + +ABRAHAM LINCOLN + + +_Two Chroniclers_: + +_The two speaking together_: Kinsmen, you shall behold +Our stage, in mimic action, mould +A man's character. + +This is the wonder, always, everywhere-- +Not that vast mutability which is event, +The pits and pinnacles of change, +But man's desire and valiance that range +All circumstance, and come to port unspent. + +Agents are these events, these ecstasies, +And tribulations, to prove the purities +Or poor oblivions that are our being. When +Beauty and peace possess us, they are none +But as they touch the beauty and peace of men, +Nor, when our days are done, +And the last utterance of doom must fall, +Is the doom anything +Memorable for its apparelling; +The bearing of man facing it is all. + +So, kinsmen, we present +This for no loud event +That is but fugitive, +But that you may behold +Our mimic action mould +The spirit of man immortally to live. + +_First Chronicler_: Once when a peril touched the days +Of freedom in our English ways, +And none renowned in government +Was equal found, +Came to the steadfast heart of one, +Who watched in lonely Huntingdon, +A summons, and he went, +And tyranny was bound, +And Cromwell was the lord of his event. + +_Second Chronicler_: And in that land where voyaging +The pilgrim Mayflower came to rest, +Among the chosen, counselling, +Once, when bewilderment possessed +A people, none there was might draw +To fold the wandering thoughts of men, +And make as one the names again +Of liberty and law. + +And then, from fifty fameless years +In quiet Illinois was sent +A word that still the Atlantic hears, +And Lincoln was the lord of his event. + +_The two speaking together:_ So the uncounted + spirit wakes +To the birth +Of uncounted circumstance. +And time in a generation makes +Portents majestic a little story of earth +To be remembered by chance +At a fireside. +But the ardours that they bear, +The proud and invincible motions of + character-- + +These--these abide. + + + +SCENE I. + + +_The parlour of Abraham Lincoln's House at Springfield, Illinois, +early in 1860_. MR. STONE, _a farmer, and_ MR. CUFFNEY, _a +store-keeper, both men of between fifty and sixty, are sitting before +an early spring fire. It is dusk, but the curtains are not drawn. The +men are smoking silently_. + +_Mr. Stone (after a pause)_: Abraham. It's a good name for a man to +bear, anyway. + +_Mr. Cuffney_: Yes. That's right. + +_Mr. Stone (after another pause)_: Abraham Lincoln. I've known him +forty years. Never crooked once. Well. + +_He taps his pipe reflectively on the grate. There is another pause_. +SUSAN, _a servant-maid, comes in, and busies herself lighting candles +and drawing the curtains to._ + +_Susan_: Mrs. Lincoln has just come in. She says she'll be here +directly. + +_Mr. Cuffney_: Thank you. + +_Mr. Stone_: Mr. Lincoln isn't home yet, I dare say? + +_Susan:_ No, Mr. Stone. He won't be long, with all the gentlemen +coming. + +_Mr. Stone:_ How would you like your master to be President of the +United States, Susan? + +_Susan:_ I'm sure he'd do it very nicely, sir. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ He would have to leave Springfield, Susan, and go to +live in Washington. + +_Susan:_ I dare say we should take to Washington very well, sir. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ Ah! I'm glad to hear that. + +_Susan:_ Mrs. Lincoln's rather particular about the tobacco smoke. + +_Mr. Stone:_ To be sure, yes, thank you, Susan. + +_Susan:_ The master doesn't smoke, you know. And Mrs. Lincoln's +specially particular about this room. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ Quite so. That's very considerate of you, Susan. + +_They knock out their pipes._ + +_Susan:_ Though some people might not hold with a gentleman not doing +as he'd a mind in his own house, as you might say. + +_She goes out._ + +_Mr. Cuffney (after a further pause, stroking his pipe)_: I suppose +there's no doubt about the message they'll bring? + +_Mr. Stone_: No, that's settled right enough. It'll be an invitation. +That's as sure as John Brown's dead. + +_Mr. Cuffney_: I could never make Abraham out rightly about old John. +One couldn't stomach slaving more than the other, yet Abraham didn't +hold with the old chap standing up against it with the sword. Bad +philosophy, or something, he called it. Talked about fanatics who do +nothing but get themselves at a rope's end. + +_Mr. Stone_: Abraham's all for the Constitution. He wants the +Constitution to be an honest master. There's nothing he wants like +that, and he'll stand for that, firm as a Samson of the spirit, if he +goes to Washington. He'd give his life to persuade the state against +slaving, but until it is persuaded and makes its laws against it, +he'll have nothing to do with violence in the name of laws that aren't +made. That's why old John's raiding affair stuck in his gullet. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ He was a brave man, going like that, with a few zealous +like himself, and a handful of niggers, to free thousands. + +_Mr. Stone:_ He was. And those were brave words when they took him out +to hang him. "I think, my friends, you are guilty of a great wrong +against God and humanity. You may dispose of me very easily. I am +nearly disposed of now. But this question is still to be settled--this +negro question, I mean. The end of that is not yet." I was there that +day. Stonewall Jackson was there. He turned away. There was a colonel +there giving orders. When it was over, "So perish all foes of the +human race," he called out. But only those that were afraid of losing +their slaves believed it. + +_Mr. Cuffney (after a pause):_ It was a bad thing to hang a man like +that. ... There's a song that they've made about him. + +_He sings quietly._ + + John Brown's body lies a mould'ring in the grave, + But his soul goes marching on... + +_Mr. Stone:_ I know. + +_The two together (singing quietly):_ + + The stars of heaven are looking kindly down + On the grave of old John Brown.... + +_After a moment_ MRS. LINCOLN _comes in. The men rise._ + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Good-evening, Mr. Stone. Good-evening, Mr. Cuffney. + +_Mr. Stone and Mr. Cuffney:_ Good-evening, ma'am. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Sit down, if you please. + +_They all sit._ + +_Mr. Stone:_ This is a great evening for you, ma'am. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ It is. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ What time do you expect the deputation, ma'am? + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ They should be here at seven o'clock. _(With an +inquisitive nose.)_ Surely, Abraham hasn't been smoking. + +_Mr. Stone (rising):_ Shall I open the window, ma'am? It gets close of +an evening. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Naturally, in March. You may leave the window, Samuel +Stone. We do not smoke in the parlour. + +_Mr. Stone (resuming his seat):_ By no means, ma'am. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ I shall be obliged to you. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ Has Abraham decided what he will say to the invitation? + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ He will accept it. + +_Mr. Stone:_ A very right decision, if I may say so. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ It is. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ And you, ma'am, have advised him that way, I'll be +bound. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ You said this was a great evening for me. It is, and +I'll say more than I mostly do, because it is. I'm likely to go into +history now with a great man. For I know better than any how great he +is. I'm plain looking and I've a sharp tongue, and I've a mind that +doesn't always go in his easy, high way. And that's what history will +see, and it will laugh a little, and say, "Poor Abraham Lincoln." +That's all right, but it's not all. I've always known when he should +go forward, and when he should hold back. I've watched, and watched, +and what I've learnt America will profit by. There are women like +that, lots of them. But I'm lucky. My work's going farther than +Illinois--it's going farther than any of us can tell. I made things +easy for him to think and think when we were poor, and now his +thinking has brought him to this. They wanted to make him Governor +of Oregon, and he would have gone and have come to nothing there. I +stopped him. Now they're coming to ask him to be President, and I've +told him to go. + +_Mr. Stone_: If you please, ma'am, I should like to apologise for +smoking in here. + +_Mrs. Lincoln_: That's no matter, Samuel Stone. Only, don't do it +again. + +_Mr. Cuffney_: It's a great place for a man to fill. Do you know how +Seward takes Abraham's nomination by the Republicans? + +_Mrs. Lincoln_: Seward is ambitious. He expected the nomination. +Abraham will know how to use him. + +_Mr. Stone_: The split among the Democrats makes the election of the +Republican choice a certainty, I suppose? + +_Mrs. Lincoln_: Abraham says so. + +_Mr. Cuffney_: You know, it's hard to believe. When I think of the +times I've sat in this room of an evening, and seen your husband come +in, ma'am, with his battered hat nigh falling off the back of his +head, and stuffed with papers that won't go into his pockets, and +god-darning some rascal who'd done him about an assignment or a +trespass, I can't think he's going up there into the eyes of the +world. + +_Mrs. Lincoln_: I've tried for years to make him buy a new hat. + +_Mr. Cuffney_: I have a very large selection just in from New York. +Perhaps Abraham might allow me to offer him one for his departure. + +_Mrs. Lincoln_: He might. But he'll wear the old one. + +_Mr. Stone_: Slavery and the South. They're big things he'll have to +deal with. "The end of that is not yet." That's what old John Brown +said, "the end of that is not yet." + +ABRAHAM LINCOLN _comes in, a greenish and crumpled top hat leaving +his forehead well uncovered, his wide pockets brimming over with +documents. He is fifty, and he still preserves his clean-shaven state. +He kisses his wife and shakes hands with his friends._ + +_Lincoln:_ Well, Mary. How d'ye do, Samuel. How d'ye do, Timothy. + +_Mr. Stone and Mr. Cuffney:_ Good-evening, Abraham. + +_Lincoln (while he takes of his hat and shakes out sundry papers from +the lining into a drawer):_ John Brown, did you say? Aye, John Brown. +But that's not the way it's to be done. And you can't do the right +thing the wrong way. That's as bad as the wrong thing, if you're going +to keep the state together. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ Well, we'll be going. We only came in to give you +good-faring, so to say, in the great word you've got to speak this +evening. + +_Mr. Stone:_ It makes a humble body almost afraid of himself, Abraham, +to know his friend is to be one of the great ones of the earth, with +his yes and no law for these many, many thousands of folk. + +_Lincoln:_ It makes a man humble to be chosen so, Samuel. So humble +that no man but would say "No" to such bidding if he dare. To be +President of this people, and trouble gathering everywhere in men's +hearts. That's a searching thing. Bitterness, and scorn, and wrestling +often with men I shall despise, and perhaps nothing truly done at the +end. But I must go. Yes. Thank you, Samuel; thank you, Timothy. Just a +glass of that cordial, Mary, before they leave. + +_He goes to a cupboard._ + +May the devil smudge that girl! + +_Calling at the door._ + +Susan! Susan Deddington! Where's that darnation cordial? + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ It's all right, Abraham. I told the girl to keep it +out. The cupboard's choked with papers. + +_Susan (coming in with bottle and glasses):_ I'm sure I'm sorry. I was +told-- + +_Lincoln:_ All right, all right, Susan. Get along with you. + +_Susan:_ Thank you, sir. _She goes._ + +_Lincoln (pouring out drink):_ Poor hospitality for whiskey-drinking +rascals like yourselves. But the thought's good. + +_Mr. Stone:_ Don't mention it, Abraham. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ We wish you well, Abraham. Our compliments, ma'am. And +God bless America! Samuel, I give you the United States, and Abraham +Lincoln. + +MR. CUFFNEY _and_ MR. STONE _drink._ + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Thank you. + +_Lincoln:_ Samuel, Timothy--I drink to the hope of honest friends. +Mary, to friendship. I'll need that always, for I've a queer, anxious +heart. And, God bless America! + +_He and_ MRS. LINCOLN _drink._ + +_Mr. Stone:_ Well, good-night, Abraham. Good-night, ma'am. + +_Mr. Cuffney:_ Good-night, good-night. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Good-night, Mr. Stone. Good-night, Mr. Cuffney. + +_Lincoln:_ Good-night, Samuel. Good-night, Timothy. And thank you for +coming. + +MR. STONE _and_ MR. CUFFNEY _go out._ + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ You'd better see them in here. + +_Lincoln:_ Good. Five minutes to seven. You're sure about it, Mary? + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Yes. Aren't you? + +_Lincoln:_ We mean to set bounds to slavery. The South will resist. +They may try to break away from the Union. That cannot be allowed. If +the Union is set aside America will crumble. The saving of it may mean +blood. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Who is to shape it all if you don't? + +_Lincoln:_ There's nobody. I know it. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Then go. + +_Lincoln:_ Go. + +_Mrs. Lincoln (after a moment):_ This hat is a disgrace to you, +Abraham. You pay no heed to what I say, and you think it doesn't +matter. A man like you ought to think a little about gentility. + +_Lincoln:_ To be sure. I forget. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ You don't. You just don't heed. Samuel Stone's been +smoking in here. + +_Lincoln:_ He's a careless, poor fellow. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ He is, and a fine example you set him. You don't care +whether he makes my parlour smell poison or not. + +_Lincoln:_ Of course I do-- + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ You don't. Your head is too stuffed with things to +think about my ways. I've got neighbours if you haven't. + +_Lincoln:_ Well, now, your neighbours are mine, I suppose. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Then why won't you consider appearances a little? + +_Lincoln:_ Certainly. I must. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Will you get a new hat? + +_Lincoln:_ Yes, I must see about it. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ When? + +_Lincoln:_ In a day or two. Before long. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Abraham, I've got a better temper than anybody will +ever guess. + +_Lincoln:_ You have, my dear. And you need it, I confess. + +SUSAN _comes in._ + +_Susan:_ The gentlemen have come. + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ I'll come to them. + +_Susan:_ Does the master want a handkerchief, ma'am? He didn't take +one this morning. + +_Lincoln:_ It's no matter now, Susan. + +_Susan:_ If you please, I've brought you one, sir. + +_She gives it to him, and goes._ + +_Mrs. Lincoln:_ I'll send them in. Abraham, I believe in you. + +_Lincoln:_ I know, I know. + +MRS. LINCOLN _goes out._ LINCOLN _moves to a map of the United States +that is hanging on the wall, and stands silently looking at it. After +a few moments_ SUSAN _comes to the door._ + +_Susan:_ This way, please. + +_She shows in_ WILLIAM TUCKER, _a florid, prosperous merchant;_ HENRY +HIND, _an alert little attorney;_ ELIAS PRICE, _a lean lay preacher; +and_ JAMES MACINTOSH, _the editor of a Republican journal._ SUSAN +_goes. + +Tucker:_ Mr. Lincoln. Tucker my name is--William Tucker. + +_He presents his companions._ + +Mr. Henry Hind--follows your profession, Mr. Lincoln. Leader of the +bar in Ohio. Mr. Elias Price, of Pennsylvania. You've heard him +preach, maybe. James Macintosh you know. I come from Chicago. + +_Lincoln:_ Gentlemen, at your service. How d'ye do, James. Will you be +seated? + +_They sit round the table._ + +_Tucker_: I have the honour to be chairman of this delegation. We are +sent from Chicago by the Republican Convention, to enquire whether you +will accept their invitation to become the Republican candidate for +the office of President of the United States. + +_Price_: The Convention is aware, Mr. Lincoln, that under the +circumstances, seeing that the Democrats have split, this is more than +an invitation to candidature. Their nominee is almost certain to be +elected. + +_Lincoln_: Gentlemen, I am known to one of you only. Do you know my +many disqualifications for this work? + +_Hind_: It's only fair to say that they have been discussed freely. + +_Lincoln_: There are some, shall we say graces, that I lack. +Washington does not altogether neglect these. + +_Tucker_: They have been spoken of. But these are days, Mr. Lincoln, +if I may say so, too difficult, too dangerous, for these to weigh at +the expense of other qualities that you were considered to possess. + +_Lincoln_: Seward and Hook have both had great experience. + +_Macintosh_: Hook had no strong support. For Seward, there are doubts +as to his discretion. + +_Lincoln_: Do not be under any misunderstanding, I beg you. I aim +at moderation so far as it is honest. But I am a very stubborn man, +gentlemen. If the South insists upon the extension of slavery, and +claims the right to secede, as you know it very well may do, and the +decision lies with me, it will mean resistance, inexorable, with blood +if needs be. I would have everybody's mind clear as to that. + +_Price_: It will be for you to decide, and we believe you to be an +upright man, Mr. Lincoln. + +_Lincoln_: Seward and Hook would be difficult to carry as +subordinates. + +_Tucker_: But they will have to be carried so, and there's none +likelier for the job than you. + +_Lincoln_: Will your Republican Press stand by me for a principle, +James, whatever comes? + +_Macintosh_: There's no other man we would follow so readily. + +_Lincoln_: If you send me, the South will have little but derision for +your choice. + +_Hind_: We believe that you'll last out their laughter. + +_Lincoln_: I can take any man's ridicule--I'm trained to it by a ... +somewhat odd figure that it pleased God to give me, if I may so far be +pleasant with you. But this slavery business will be long, and deep, +and bitter. I know it. If you do me this honour, gentlemen, you must +look to me for no compromise in this matter. If abolition comes in due +time by constitutional means, good. I want it. But, while we will not +force abolition, we will give slavery no approval, and we will not +allow it to extend its boundaries by one yard. The determination is in +my blood. When I was a boy I made a trip to New Orleans, and there I +saw them, chained, beaten, kicked as a man would be ashamed to kick a +thieving dog. And I saw a young girl driven up and down the room that +the bidders might satisfy themselves. And I said then, "If ever I get +a chance to hit that thing, I'll hit it hard." + +_A pause_. + +You have no conditions to make? + +_Tucker_: None. + +_Lincoln (rising):_ Mrs. Lincoln and I would wish you to take supper +with us. + +_Tucker_: That's very kind, I'm sure. And your answer, Mr. Lincoln? + +_Lincoln_: When you came, you did not know me, Mr. Tucker. You may +have something to say now not for my ears. + +_Tucker_: Nothing in the world, I assure-- + +_Lincoln_: I will prepare Mrs. Lincoln. You will excuse me for no more +than a minute. + +_He goes out_. + +_Tucker_: Well, we might have chosen a handsomer article, but I doubt +whether we could have chosen a better. + +_Hind_: He would make a great judge--if you weren't prosecuting. + +_Price_: I'd tell most people, but I'd ask that man. + +_Tucker_: He hasn't given us yes or no yet. Why should he leave us +like that, as though plain wasn't plain? + +_Hind_: Perhaps he wanted a thought by himself first. + +_Macintosh_: It wasn't that. But he was right. Abraham Lincoln sees +deeper into men's hearts than most. He knows this day will be a memory +to us all our lives. Under his eye, which of you could have given play +to any untoward thought that had started in you against him since +you came into this room? But, leaving you, he knew you could test +yourselves to your own ease, and speak the more confident for it, and, +if you found yourselves clean of doubt, carry it all the happier in +your minds after. Is there a doubt among us? + +_Tucker_:} +_Hind_: } No, none. +_Price_: } + +_Macintosh_: Then, Mr. Tucker, ask him again when he comes back. + +_Tucker_: I will. + +_They sit in silence for a moment, and_ Lincoln _comes in again, back +to his place at the table_. + +_Lincoln_: I wouldn't have you think it graceless of me to be slow in +my answer. But once given, it's for the deep good or the deep ill +of all this country. In the face of that a man may well ask himself +twenty times, when he's twenty times sure. You make no qualification, +any one among you? + +_Tucker_: None. The invitation is as I put it when we sat down. And I +would add that we are, all of us, proud to bear it to a man as to whom +we feel there is none so fitted to receive it. + +_Lincoln_: I thank you. I accept. + +_He rises, the others with him. He goes to the door and calls_. + +Susan. + +_There is silence_. SUSAN _comes in. + +Susan:_ Yes, Mr. Lincoln. + +_Lincoln_: Take these gentlemen to Mrs. Lincoln. I will follow at +once. + +_The four men go with_ SUSAN. LINCOLN _stands silently for a moment. +He goes again to the map and looks at it. He then turns to the table +again, and kneels beside it, possessed and deliberate, burying his +face in his hands._ + +THE CURTAIN FALLS. + +_The two Chroniclers_: Lonely is the man who understands. +Lonely is vision that leads a man away +From the pasture-lands, +From the furrows of corn and the brown loads of hay, +To the mountain-side, +To the high places where contemplation brings +All his adventurings +Among the sowers and the tillers in the wide +Valleys to one fused experience, +That shall control +The courses of his soul, +And give his hand +Courage and continence. + +_The First Chronicler_: Shall a man understand, +He shall know bitterness because his kind, +Being perplexed of mind, +Hold issues even that are nothing mated. +And he shall give +Counsel out of his wisdom that none shall hear; +And steadfast in vain persuasion must he live, +And unabated +Shall his temptation be. + +_Second Chronicler_: Coveting the little, the instant gain, +The brief security, +And easy-tongued renown, +Many will mock the vision that his brain +Builds to a far, unmeasured monument, +And many bid his resolutions down +To the wages of content. + +_First Chronicler_: A year goes by. + +_The two together_: Here contemplate +A heart, undaunted to possess +Itself among the glooms of fate, +In vision and in loneliness. + + +SCENE II. + +_Ten months later. Seward's room at Washington_. WILLIAM H. SEWARD, +_Secretary of State, is seated at his table with_ JOHNSON WHITE _and_ +CALEB JENNINGS, _representing the Commissioners of the Confederate +States_. + +_White_: It's the common feeling in the South, Mr. Seward, that you're +the one man at Washington to see this thing with large imagination. I +say this with no disrespect to the President. + +_Seward_: I appreciate your kindness, Mr. White. But the Union is the +Union--you can't get over that. We are faced with a plain fact. Seven +of the Southern States have already declared for secession. The +President feels--and I may say that I and my colleagues are with +him--that to break up the country like that means the decline of +America. + +_Jennings_: But everything might be done by compromise, Mr. Seward. +Withdraw your garrison from Fort Sumter, Beauregard will be instructed +to take no further action, South Carolina will be satisfied with the +recognition of her authority, and, as likely as not, be willing to +give the lead to the other states in reconsidering secession. + +_Seward_: It is certainly a very attractive and, I conceive, a humane +proposal. + +_White_: By furthering it you might be the saviour of the country from +civil war, Mr. Seward. + +_Seward_: The President dwelt on his resolution to hold Fort Sumter in +his inaugural address. It will be difficult to persuade him to go back +on that. He's firm in his decisions. + +_White_: There are people who would call him stubborn. Surely if +it were put to him tactfully that so simple a course might avert +incalculable disaster, no man would nurse his dignity to the point of +not yielding. I speak plainly, but it's a time for plain speaking. +Mr. Lincoln is doubtless a man of remarkable qualities: on the two +occasions when I have spoken to him I have not been unimpressed. That +is so, Mr. Jennings? + +_Jennings_: Certainly. + +_White_: But what does his experience of great affairs of state amount +to beside yours, Mr. Seward? He must know how much he depends on +certain members of his Cabinet, I might say upon a certain member, for +advice. + +_Seward_: We have to move warily. + +_Jennings_: Naturally. A man is sensitive, doubtless, in his first +taste of office. + +_Seward_: My support of the President is, of course, unquestionable. + +_White_: Oh, entirely. But how can your support be more valuable than +in lending him your unequalled understanding? + +_Seward_: The whole thing is coloured in his mind by the question of +slavery. + +_Jennings_: Disabuse his mind. Slavery is nothing. Persuade him to +withdraw from Fort Sumter, and slavery can be settled round a table. +You know there's a considerable support even for abolition in the +South itself. If the trade has to be allowed in some districts, what +is that compared to the disaster of civil war? + +_White_: We do not believe that the Southern States wish with any +enthusiasm to secede. They merely wish to establish their right to do +so. Acknowledge that by evacuating Fort Sumter, and nothing will come +of it but a perfectly proper concession to an independence of spirit +that is not disloyal to the Union at heart. + +_Seward_: You understand, of course, that I can say nothing +officially. + +_Jennings_: These are nothing but informal suggestions. + +_Seward_: But I may tell you that I am not unsympathetic. + +_White_: We were sure that that would be so. + +_Seward_: And my word is not without influence. + +_Jennings_: It can be used to bring you very great credit, Mr. Seward. + +_Seward_: In the mean time, you will say nothing of this interview, +beyond making your reports, which should be confidential. + +_White_: You may rely upon us. + +_Seward (rising with the others)_: Then I will bid you good-morning. + +_White_: We are profoundly sensible of the magnanimous temper in which +we are convinced you will conduct this grave business. Good-morning, +Mr. Seward. + +_Jennings_: And I-- + +_There is a knock at the door_. + +_Seward_: Yes--come in. + +A CLERK _comes in_. + +_Clerk_: The President is coming up the stairs, sir. + +_Seward_: Thank you. + +THE CLERK _goes_. This is unfortunate. Say nothing, and go at once. + +LINCOLN _comes in, now whiskered and bearded._ + +_Lincoln_: Good-morning, Mr. Seward. Good-morning, gentlemen. + +_Seward_: Good-morning, Mr. President. And I am obliged to you for +calling, gentlemen. Good-morning. + +_He moves towards the door_. + +_Lincoln_: Perhaps these gentlemen could spare me ten minutes. + +_White_: It might not-- + +_Lincoln_: Say five minutes. + +_Jennings_: Perhaps you would-- + +_Lincoln_: I am anxious always for any opportunity to exchange views +with our friends of the South. Much enlightenment may be gained in +five minutes. Be seated, I beg you--if Mr. Seward will allow us. + +_Seward_: By all means. Shall I leave you? + +_Lincoln_: Leave us--but why? I may want your support, Mr. Secretary, +if we should not wholly agree. Be seated, gentlemen. + +SEWARD _places a chair for_ LINCOLN, _and they sit at the table_. + +You have messages for us? + +_White_: Well, no, we can't say that. + +_Lincoln_: No messages? Perhaps I am inquisitive? + +_Seward_: These gentlemen are anxious to sound any moderating +influences. + +_Lincoln_: I trust they bring moderating influences with them. You +will find me a ready listener, gentlemen. + +_Jennings_: It's a delicate matter, Mr. Lincoln. Ours is just an +informal visit. + +_Lincoln_: Quite, quite. But we shall lose nothing by knowing each +other's minds. + +_White_: Shall we tell the President what we came to say, Mr. Seward? + +_Lincoln_: I shall be grateful. If I should fail to understand, Mr. +Seward, no doubt, will enlighten me. + +_Jennings_: We thought it hardly worth while to trouble you at so +early a stage. + +_Lincoln_: So early a stage of what? + +_Jennings_: I mean-- + +_Seward_: These gentlemen, in a common anxiety for peace, were merely +seeking the best channel through which suggestions could be made. + +_Lincoln_: To whom? + +_Seward_: To the government. + +_Lincoln_: The head of the government is here. + +_White_: But-- + +_Lincoln_: Come, gentlemen. What is it? + +_Jennings_: It's this matter of Fort Sumter, Mr. President. If you +withdraw your garrison from Fort Sumter it won't be looked upon as +weakness in you. It will merely be looked upon as a concession to a +natural privilege. We believe that the South at heart does not want +secession. It wants to establish the right to decide for itself. + +_Lincoln_: The South wants the stamp of national approval upon +slavery. It can't have it. + +_White_: Surely that's not the point. There's no law in the South +against slavery. + +_Lincoln_: Laws come from opinion, Mr. White. The South knows it. + +_Jennings_: Mr. President, if I may say so, you don't quite +understand. + +_Lincoln_: Does Mr. Seward understand? + +_White_: We believe so. + +_Lincoln_: You are wrong. He doesn't understand, because you didn't +mean him to. I don't blame you. You think you are acting for the best. +You think you've got an honest case. But I'll put your case for you, +and I'll put it naked. Many people in this country want abolition; +many don't. I'll say nothing for the moment as to the rights and +wrongs of it. But every man, whether he wants it or not, knows it may +come. Why does the South propose secession? Because it knows abolition +may come, and it wants to avoid it. It wants more: it wants the right +to extend the slave foundation. We've all been to blame for slavery, +but we in the North have been willing to mend our ways. You have not. +So you'll secede, and make your own laws. But you weren't prepared for +resistance; you don't want resistance. And you hope that if you can +tide over the first crisis and make us give way, opinion will prevent +us from opposing you with force again, and you'll be able to get your +own way about the slave business by threats. That's your case. You +didn't say so to Mr. Seward, but it is. Now, I'll give you my answer. +Gentlemen, it's no good hiding this thing in a corner. It's got to be +settled. I said the other day that Fort Sumter would be held as long +as we could hold it. I said it because I know exactly what it means. +Why are you investing it? Say, if you like, it's to establish your +right of secession with no purpose of exercising it. Why do you want +to establish that right? Because now we will allow no extension of +slavery, and because some day we may abolish it. You can't deny it; +there's no other answer. + +_Jennings_: I see how it is. You may force freedom as much as you +like, but we are to beware how we force slavery. + +_Lincoln_: It couldn't be put better, Mr. Jennings. That's what the +Union means. It is a Union that stands for common right. That is its +foundation--that is why it is for every honest man to preserve it. Be +clear about this issue. If there is war, it will not be on the slave +question. If the South is loyal to the Union, it can fight slave +legislation by constitutional means, and win its way if it can. If +it claims the right to secede, then to preserve this country from +disruption, to maintain that right to which every state pledged itself +when the Union was won for us by our fathers, war may be the only way. +We won't break up the Union, and you shan't. In your hands, and not in +mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. You can have no conflict +without yourselves being the aggressors. I am loath to close. We are +not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may +have strained, do not allow it to break our bonds of affection. That +is our answer. Tell them that. Will you tell them that? + +_White_: You are determined? + +_Lincoln_: I beg you to tell them. + +_Jennings_: It shall be as you wish. + +_Lincoln_: Implore them to order Beauregard's return. You can +telegraph it now, from here. Will you do that? + +_White_: If you wish it. + +_Lincoln_: Earnestly. Mr. Seward, will you please place a clerk at +their service. Ask for an answer. + +SEWARD _rings a bell_. A CLERK _comes in_. + +_Seward:_ Give these gentlemen a private wire. Place yourself at their +disposal. + +_Clerk_: Yes, sir. + +WHITE _and_ JENNINGS _go out with the_ CLERK. _For a moment_ LINCOLN +_and_ SEWARD _are silent,_ LINCOLN _pacing the room_, SEWARD _standing +at the table. + +_Lincoln:_ Seward, this won't do. + +_Seward_: You don't suspect-- + +_Lincoln_: I do not. But let us be plain. No man can say how wisely, +but Providence has brought me to the leadership of this country, with +a task before me greater than that which rested on Washington himself. +When I made my Cabinet, you were the first man I chose. I do not +regret it. I think I never shall. But remember, faith earns faith. +What is it? Why didn't those men come to see me? + +_Seward_: They thought my word might bear more weight with you than +theirs. + +_Lincoln_: Your word for what? + +_Seward_: Discretion about Fort Sumter. + +_Lincoln_: Discretion? + +_Seward_: It's devastating, this thought of war. + +_Lincoln_: It is. Do you think I'm less sensible of that than you? +War should be impossible. But you can only make it impossible by +destroying its causes. Don't you see that to withdraw from Fort Sumter +is to do nothing of the kind? If one half of this country claims +the right to disown the Union, the claim in the eyes of every true +guardian among us must be a cause for war, unless we hold the Union to +be a false thing instead of the public consent to decent principles +of life that it is. If we withdraw from Fort Sumter, we do nothing to +destroy that cause. We can only destroy it by convincing them that +secession is a betrayal of their trust. Please God we may do so. + +_Seward_: Has there, perhaps, been some timidity in making all this +clear to the country? + +_Lincoln_: Timidity? And you were talking of discretion. + +_Seward_: I mean that perhaps our policy has not been sufficiently +defined. + +_Lincoln_: And have you not concurred in all our decisions? Do not +deceive yourself. You urge me to discretion in one breath and tax me +with timidity in the next. While there was hope that they might call +Beauregard back out of their own good sense, I was determined to +say nothing to inflame them. Do you call that timidity? Now their +intention is clear, and you've heard me speak this morning clearly +also. And now you talk about discretion--you, who call what was +discretion at the right time, timidity, now counsel timidity at the +wrong time, and call it discretion. Seward, you may think I'm simple, +but I can see your mind working as plainly as you might see the +innards of a clock. You can bring great gifts to this government, with +your zeal, and your administrative experience, and your love of men. +Don't spoil it by thinking I've got a dull brain. + +_Seward (slowly):_ Yes, I see. I've not been thinking quite clearly +about it all. + +_Lincoln (taking a paper from his pocket_): Here's the paper you sent +me. "Some Thoughts for the President's Consideration. Great Britain +... Russia ... Mexico ... policy. Either the President must control +this himself, or devolve it on some member of his Cabinet. It is +not in my especial province, but I neither seek to evade nor assume +responsibility." + +_There is a pause, the two men looking at each, other without +speaking_. LINCOLN _hands the paper to_ SEWARD, _who holds it for a +moment, tears it up and throws it into his basket_. + +_Seward:_ I beg your pardon. + +_Lincoln (taking his hand_): That's brave of you. + +JOHN HAY, _a Secretary, comes in_. + +_Hay:_ There's a messenger from Major Anderson, sir. He's ridden +straight from Fort Sumter. + +_Lincoln_: Take him to my room. No, bring him here. + +HAY _goes_. + +_Seward_: What does it mean? + +_Lincoln_: I don't like the sound of it. + +_He rings a bell_. A CLERK _comes in_. + +Are there any gentlemen of the Cabinet in the house? + +_Clerk_: Mr. Chase and Mr. Blair, I believe, sir. + +_Lincoln_: My compliments to them, and will they be prepared to see +me here at once if necessary. Send the same message to any other +ministers you can find. + +_Clerk_: Yes, sir. + +_He goes_. + +_Lincoln_: We may have to decide now--now. + +HAY _shows in a perspiring and dust-covered_ + +MESSENGER, _and retires_. From Major Anderson? + +_The Messenger_: Yes, sir. Word of mouth, sir. + +_Lincoln_: Your credentials? + +_The Messenger (giving_ LINCOLN _a paper_): Here, sir. + +_Lincoln (glancing at it_): Well? + +_The Messenger_: Major Anderson presents his duty to the government. +He can hold the Fort three days more without provisions and +reinforcements. + +LINCOLN _rings the bell, and waits until a third_ CLERK _comes in_. + +_Lincoln_: See if Mr. White and Mr. Jennings have had any answer yet. +Mr.--what's his name? + +_Seward_: Hawkins. + +_Lincoln_: Mr. Hawkins is attending to them. And ask Mr. Hay to come +here. + +_Clerk_: Yes, sir. + +_He goes_. LINCOLN _sits at the table and writes_. HAY _comes in_. + +_Lincoln (writing):_ Mr. Hay, do you know where General Scott is? + +_Hay_: At headquarters, I think, sir. + +_Lincoln_: Take this to him yourself and bring an answer back. + +_Hay_: Yes, sir. + +_He takes the note, and goes_. + +_Lincoln:_ Are things very bad at the Fort? + +_The Messenger_: The major says three days, sir. Most of us would have +said twenty-four hours. + +_A knock at the door_. + +_Seward:_ Yes. + +HAWKINS _comes in_. + +_Hawkins_: Mr. White is just receiving a message across the wire, sir. + +_Lincoln_: Ask him to come here directly he's finished. + +_Hawkins_: Yes, sir. + +_He goes_. LINCOLN _goes to a far door and opens it. He speaks to the_ +MESSENGER. + +_Lincoln_: Will you wait in here? + +_The_ MESSENGER _goes through_. + +_Seward_: Do you mind if I smoke? + +_Lincoln_: Not at all, not at all. + +SEWARD _lights a cigar_. + +Three days. If White's message doesn't help us--three days. + +_Seward_: But surely we must withdraw as a matter of military +necessity now. + +_Lincoln_: Why doesn't White come? + +SEWARD _goes to the window and throws it up. He stands looking down +into the street_. LINCOLN _stands at the table looking fixedly at the +door. After a moment or two there is a knock._ + +Come in. + +HAWKINS _shows in_ WHITE _and_ JENNINGS, _and goes out_. SEWARD +_closes the window_. + +Well? + +_White_: I'm sorry. They won't give way. + +_Lincoln_: You told them all I said? + +_Jennings_: Everything. + +_Lincoln_: It's critical. + +_White_: They are definite. + +LINCOLN _paces once or twice up and down the room, standing again at +his place at the table_. + +_Lincoln:_ They leave no opening? + +_White_: I regret to say, none. + +_Lincoln_: It's a grave decision. Terribly grave. Thank you, +gentlemen. Good-morning. + +_White and Jennings_: Good-morning, gentlemen. + +_They go out_. + +_Lincoln_: My God! Seward, we need great courage, great faith. + +_He rings the bell. The_ SECOND CLERK _comes in._ + +Did you take my messages? + +_The Clerk_: Yes, sir. Mr. Chase and Mr. Blair are here. The other +ministers are coming immediately. + +_Lincoln_: Ask them to come here at once. And send Mr. Hay in directly +he returns. + +_The Clerk_: Yes, sir. + +_He goes_. + + +_Lincoln (after a pause_): "There is a tide in the affairs of men ..." +Do you read Shakespeare, Seward? + +_Seward_: Shakespeare? No. + +_Lincoln_: Ah! + +SALMON P. CHASE, _Secretary of the Treasury, and_ MONTGOMERY BLAIR, +_Postmaster-General, come in_. + +Good-morning, Mr. Chase, Mr. Blair. + +_Seward_: Good-morning, gentlemen. + +_Blair_: Good-morning, Mr. President. How d'ye do, Mr. Seward. + +_Chase_: Good-morning, Mr. President. Something urgent? + +_Lincoln_: Let us be seated. + +_As they draw chairs up to the table, the other members of the +Cabinet_, SIMON CAMERON, CALEB SMITH, BURNET HOOK, _and_ GIDEON +WELLES, _come in. There is an exchange of greetings, while they +arrange themselves round the table_. + +Gentlemen, we meet in a crisis, the most fateful, perhaps, that has +ever faced any government in this country. It can be stated briefly. +A message has just come from Anderson. He can hold Fort Sumter three +days at most unless we send men and provisions. + +_Cameron_: How many men? + +_Lincoln_: I shall know from Scott in a few minutes how many are +necessary. + +_Welles_: Suppose we haven't as many. + +_Lincoln_: Then it's a question of provisioning. We may not be able to +do enough to be effective. The question is whether we shall do as much +as we can. + +_Hook_: If we withdrew altogether, wouldn't it give the South a lead +towards compromise, as being an acknowledgment of their authority, +while leaving us free to plead military necessity if we found public +opinion dangerous? + +_Lincoln_: My mind is clear. To do less than we can do, whatever that +may be, will be fundamentally to allow the South's claim to right of +secession. That is my opinion. If you evade the question now, you will +have to answer it to-morrow. + +_Blair_: I agree with the President. + +_Hook_: We ought to defer action as long as possible. I consider that +we should withdraw. + +_Lincoln_: Don't you see that to withdraw may postpone war, but that +it will make it inevitable in the end? + +_Smith_: It is inevitable if we resist. + +_Lincoln_: I fear it will be so. But in that case we shall enter it +with uncompromised principles. Mr. Chase? + +_Chase_: It is difficult. But, on the whole, my opinion is with yours, +Mr. President. + +_Lincoln_: And you, Seward? + +_Seward_: I respect your opinion, but I must differ. + +_A knock at the door_. + +_Lincoln_: Come in. + +HAY _comes in. He gives a letter to_ LINCOLN _and goes_. + +_(Reading):_ Scott says twenty thousand men. + +_Seward_: We haven't ten thousand ready. + +_Lincoln_: It remains a question of sending provisions. I charge +you, all of you, to weigh this thing with all your understanding. To +temporise now, cannot, in my opinion, avert war. To speak plainly to +the world in standing by our resolution to hold Fort Sumter with +all our means, and in a plain declaration that the Union must be +preserved, will leave us with a clean cause, simply and loyally +supported. I tremble at the thought of war. But we have in our hands a +sacred trust. It is threatened. We have had no thought of aggression. +We have been the aggressed. Persuasion has failed, and I conceive it +to be our duty to resist. To withhold supplies from Anderson would be +to deny that duty. Gentlemen, the matter is before you. + +_A pause_. + +For provisioning the fort? + +LINCOLN, CHASE, _and_ BLAIR _hold up their hands._ + +For immediate withdrawal? + +SEWARD, CAMERON, SMITH, HOOK, _and_ WELLES _hold up their hands. There +is a pause of some moments_. + +Gentlemen, I may have to take upon myself the responsibility of +over-riding your vote. It will be for me to satisfy Congress and +public opinion. Should I receive any resignations? + +_There is silence_. + +I thank you for your consideration, gentlemen. That is all. + +_They rise, and the Ministers, with the exception of_ SEWARD, _go out, +talking as they pass beyond the door_. + +You are wrong, Seward, wrong. + +_Seward_: I believe you. I respect your judgment even as far as that. +But I must speak as I feel. + +_Lincoln_: May I speak to this man alone? + +_Seward_: Certainly. _He goes out_. LINCOLN _stands motionless for a +moment. Then he moves to a map of the United States, much larger than +the one in his Illinois home, and looks at it as he did there. He goes +to the far door and opens it_. + +_Lincoln:_ Will you come in? + +_The_ MESSENGER _comes_. + +Can you ride back to Major Anderson at once? + +_The Messenger_: Yes, sir. + +_Lincoln_: Tell him that we cannot reinforce him immediately. We +haven't the men. + +_The Messenger_: Yes, sir. + + +_Lincoln_: And say that the first convoy of supplies will leave +Washington this evening. + +_The Messenger_: Yes, sir. + +_Lincoln_: Thank you. + +_The_ MESSENGER goes. LINCOLN _stands at the table for a moment; he +rings the bell_. HAWKINS _comes in_. + +Mr. Hay, please. + +_Hawkins_: Yes, sir. + +_He goes, and a moment later_ HAY _comes in. + +Lincoln:_ Go to General Scott. Ask him to come to me at once. + +_Hay_: Yes, sir. + +_He goes_. + +THE CURTAIN FALLS. + +_The two Chroniclers_: You who have gone gathering + Cornflowers and meadowsweet, +Heard the hazels glancing down + On September eves, +Seen the homeward rooks on wing + Over fields of golden wheat, +And the silver cups that crown + Water-lily leaves; + +You who know the tenderness + Of old men at eve-tide, +Coming from the hedgerows, + Coming from the plough, +And the wandering caress + Of winds upon the woodside, +When the crying yaffle goes + Underneath the bough; + +_First Chronicler_: You who mark the flowing + Of sap upon the May-time, +And the waters welling + From the watershed, +You who count the growing + Of harvest and hay-time, +Knowing these the telling + Of your daily bread; + +_Second Chronicler_: You who cherish courtesy + With your fellows at your gate, +And about your hearthstone sit + Under love's decrees, +You who know that death will be +Speaking with you soon or late. + +_The two together_: Kinsmen, what is +mother-wit +But the light of these? +Knowing these, what is there more +For learning in your little years? +Are not these all gospels bright +Shining on your day? +How then shall your hearts be sore +With envy and her brood of fears, +How forget the words of light +From the mountain-way? ... + +Blessed are the merciful.... +Does not every threshold seek +Meadows and the flight of birds +For compassion still? +Blessed are the merciful.... +Are we pilgrims yet to speak +Out of Olivet the words +Of knowledge and good-will? + +_First Chronicler_: Two years of darkness, and this man but grows +Greater in resolution, more constant in compassion. +He goes +The 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, and_ SUSAN, _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. + +SUSAN _is 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. + +SUSAN _goes_. MRS. LINCOLN _closes her writing desk._ SUSAN _returns, +showing in_ MRS. 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. + +SUSAN _comes in_. + +_Susan_: Mrs. Otherly, ma'am. + +_Mrs. Lincoln_: Show Mrs. Otherly in. + +SUSAN _goes_. + +_Mrs. Blow_: Oh, that dreadful woman! I believe she wants the war to +stop. + +_Susan (at the door_): Mrs. Otherly. + + +MRS. OTHERLY _comes in and_ SUSAN _goes_. + +_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. + +LINCOLN _comes in_. THE LADIES _rise 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. + +SUSAN _brings in tea-tray, and hands tea round._ LINCOLN _takes none_. +SUSAN _goes_. + +_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 to_ LINCOLN. + +_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. LINCOLN _goes out with_ MRS. 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 offers_ +LINCOLN _her 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 and_ MRS. BLOW, _finding words inadequate, goes_. +LINCOLN _moves across the room and rings a bell. After a moment,_ +SUSAN _comes 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_. SUSAN _collects the teacups. As she is going to the +door a quiet, grave white-haired negro appears facing her_. SUSAN +_starts 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_. CUSTIS +_rises_. 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_. +CUSTIS _takes it, and is about to kiss it_. LINCOLN _stops 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 (CUSTIS _sits +to_ LINCOLN'S _gesture_)--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 to_ LINCOLN. + +_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. + +CUSTIS _slowly 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. + +SUSAN _comes in_. + +_Susan_: An officer gentleman. He says it's very important. + +_Lincoln_: I'll come. + +_He and_ CUSTIS _rise_. + +Wait, will you, Mr. Custis? I want to ask you some questions. + +_He goes out. It is getting dark, and_ SUSAN _lights a lamp and draws +the curtains_. CUSTIS _stands by the door looking after_ LINCOLN. + +_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_" CUSTIS _and_ SUSAN _stand listening_, SUSAN +_joining in the song as it passes and fades away._ + +THE CURTAIN FALLS. + +_First Chronicler_: Unchanged our time. And further yet +In loneliness must be the way, +And difficult and deep the debt +Of 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_. SMITH +_has gone and_ CAMERON _has been replaced by_ EDWIN M. STANTON, +_Secretary of War. Otherwise the ministry, completed by_ SEWARD, +CHASE, HOOK, BLAIR, _and_ WELLES, _is as before. They are now +arranging themselves at the table, leaving_ LINCOLN'S _place 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 CLERK _comes 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. + +LINCOLN _comes 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 of_ HOOK, _who makes no attempt to +hide his irritation, and_ STANTON, _who would do the same but for +his disapproval of_ HOOK, _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 MINISTERS _rise_. SEWARD, WELLES, _and_ BLAIR _shake_ LINCOLN'S +_hand and go out_. STANTON _and_ CHASE _bow 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_. LINCOLN _stands silently for a moment, a travelled, lonely +captain. He rings a bell, and a_ CLERK _comes 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_. HAY _comes 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, and + Are 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 dissolve + And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, + Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff + As dreams are made on, and our little life + Is 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 brain +That set its lonely chart four years gone by, +Knowing the word fulfilled, +Comes with charity and communion to bring +To reckoning, +To reconcile and build. + + +_The two together_: What victor coming from the field + Leaving the victim desolate, +But has a vulnerable shield + Against the substances of fate? +That battle's won that leads in chains + But retribution and despite, +And bids misfortune count her gains + Not stricken in a penal night. + +His triumph is but bitterness + Who looks not to the starry doom +When proud and humble but possess + The little kingdom of the tomb. + +Who, striking home, shall not forgive, + Strikes with a weak returning rod, +Claiming a fond prerogative + Against the armoury of God. + +Who knows, and for his knowledge stands + Against the darkness in dispute, +And dedicates industrious hands, + And keeps a spirit resolute, +Prevailing in the battle, then + A 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 with_ CAPTAIN 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. + +MALINS _hands 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. + +DENNIS _comes 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. + +_Another_ ORDERLY _comes in. + +Orderly_: Mr. Lincoln has just arrived, sir. He's in the yard now. + +_Grant_: All right, I'll come. + +THE ORDERLY _goes_. GRANT _rises and crosses to the door, but is met +there by_ LINCOLN _and_ HAY. LINCOLN, _in top boots and tall hat that +has seen many campaigns, shakes hands with_ GRANT _and takes_ MALINS'S +_salute_. + +_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 ORDERLY _goes, and a_ YOUNG OFFICER _comes in from the field. He +salutes and hands a despatch to_ GRANT. + +_Officer_: From General Meade, sir. + +_Grant (taking it_): Thank you. + +_He opens it and reads_. + +You needn't wait. + +THE OFFICER _salutes 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 to_ LINCOLN. + +_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. + +DENNIS _goes_. + +I want to see Colonel West. Malins, ask Templeman if those figures are +ready yet. + +_He goes, and_ MALINS _follows. + +Lincoln:_ Will you, Hay? + +HAY _goes. After a moment, during which_ LINCOLN _takes the book that_ +MALINS _has been reading from, and looks into it_, WILLIAM SCOTT _is +brought in under guard. He is a boy of twenty_. + +_Lincoln (to the_ GUARD): Thank you. Wait outside, will you? + +_The_ MEN _salute 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. + +SCOTT _calls 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 the_ SOLDIER. + +_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. + +LINCOLN _wraps himself up on two chairs_. + +HAY _follows suit on a bench. After a few moments_ GRANT _comes to the +door, sees what has happened, blows out the candles quietly, and goes +away_. + +THE CURTAIN FALLS. + +_The First Chronicler_: Under the stars an end is made, +And on the field the Southern blade +Lies broken, +And, where strife was, shall union be, +And, where was bondage, liberty. +The word is spoken.... +Night passes. + +_The Curtain rises on the same scene_, LINCOLN _and_ HAY _still lying +asleep. The light of dawn fills the room. The_ ORDERLY _comes in with +two smoking cups of coffee and some biscuits_. LINCOLN _wakes_. + +_Lincoln_: Good-morning. + +_Orderly_: Good-morning, sir. + +_Lincoln (taking coffee and biscuits_): Thank you. + +_The_ ORDERLY _turns to_ HAY, _who sleeps on, and he hesitates_. + +_Lincoln_: Hay. _(Shouting_.) Hay. + +_Hay (starting up_): Hullo! What the devil is it? I beg your pardon, +sir. + +_Lincoln_: Not at all. Take a little coffee. + +_Hay_: Thank you, sir. + +_He takes coffee and biscuits. The_ ORDERLY _goes_. + +_Lincoln_: Slept well, Hay? + +_Hay_: I feel a little crumpled, sir. I think I fell off once. + +_Lincoln_: What's the time? + +_Hay (looking at the watch_): Six o'clock, sir. + +GRANT _comes in_. + +_Grant_: Good-morning, sir; good-morning, Hay. + +_Lincoln_: Good-morning, general. + +_Hay_: Good-morning, sir. + +_Grant_: I didn't disturb you last night. A message has just come from +Meade. Lee asked for an armistice at four o'clock. + +_Lincoln (after a silence_): For four years life has been but the hope +of this moment. It is strange how simple it is when it comes. Grant, +you've served the country very truly. And you've made my work +possible. + +_He takes his hand_. + +Thank you. + +_Grant_: Had I failed, the fault would not have been yours, sir. I +succeeded because you believed in me. + +_Lincoln_: Where is Lee? + +_Grant_: He's coming here. Meade should arrive directly. + +_Lincoln_: Where will Lee wait? + +_Grant_: There's a room ready for him. Will you receive him, sir? + +_Lincoln_: No, no, Grant. That's your affair. You are to mention no +political matters. Be generous. But I needn't say that. + +_Grant (taking a paper from his pocket_): Those are the terms I +suggest. + +_Lincoln (reading):_ Yes, yes. They do you honour. + +_He places the paper on the table. An_ ORDERLY _comes in_. + +_Orderly_: General Meade is here, sir. + +_Grant_: Ask him to come here. + +_Orderly_: Yes, sir. + +_He goes_. + +_Grant_: I learnt a good deal from Robert Lee in early days. He's a +better man than most of us. This business will go pretty near the +heart, sir. + +_Lincoln_: I'm glad it's to be done by a brave gentleman, Grant. + +GENERAL MEADE _and_ CAPTAIN SONE, _his aide-de-camp, come in_. MEADE +_salutes. Lincoln_: Congratulations, Meade. You've done well. + +_Meade_: Thank you, sir. + +_Grant_: Was there much more fighting? + +_Meade_: Pretty hot for an hour or two. + +_Grant_: How long will Lee be? + +_Meade_: Only a few minutes, I should say, sir. + +_Grant_: You said nothing about terms? + +_Meade_: No, sir. + +_Lincoln_: Did a boy Scott come to you? + +_Meade_: Yes, sir. He went into action at once. He was killed, wasn't +he, Sone? + +_Sone_: Yes, sir. + +_Lincoln_: Killed? It's a queer world, Grant. + +_Meade_: Is there any proclamation to be made, sir, about the rebels? + +_Grant_: I-- + +_Lincoln_: No, no. I'll have nothing of hanging or shooting these men, +even the worst of them. Frighten them out of the country, open the +gates, let down the bars, scare them off. Shoo! + +_He flings out his arms_. + +Good-bye, Grant. Report at Washington as soon as you can. + +_He shakes hands with him_. + +Good-bye, gentlemen. Come along, Hay. + +MEADE _salutes and_ LINCOLN _goes, followed by_ HAY. + +_Grant_: Who is with Lee? + +_Meade_: Only one of his staff, sir. + +_Grant_: You might see Malins, will you, Sone, and let us know +directly General Lee comes. + +_Sone_: Yes, sir. _He goes out_. + +_Grant_: Well, Meade, it's been a big job. + +_Meade_: Yes, sir. + +_Grant_: We've had courage and determination. And we've had wits, +to beat a great soldier. I'd say that to any man. But it's Abraham +Lincoln, Meade, who has kept us a great cause clean to fight for. It +does a man's heart good to know he's given victory to such a man to +handle. A glass, Meade? _(Pouring out whiskey_.) No? _(Drinking_.) + +Do you know, Meade, there were fools who wanted me to oppose Lincoln +for the next Presidency. I've got my vanities, but I know better than +that. + +MALINS _comes in_. + +_Malins_: General Lee is here, sir. + +_Grant_: Meade, will General Lee do me the honour of meeting me here? + +MEADE _salutes and goes_. + +Where the deuce is my hat, Malins? And sword. + +_Malins_: Here, sir. + +MALINS _gets them for him_. MEADE _and_ SONE _come in, and stand +by the door at attention_. ROBERT LEE, _General-in-Chief of the +Confederate forces, comes in, followed by one of his staff. The days +of critical anxiety through which he has just lived have marked +themselves on_ LEE'S _face, but his groomed and punctilious toilet +contrasts pointedly with_ GRANT'S _unconsidered appearance. The two +commanders face each other_. GRANT _salutes, and_ LEE _replies. + +Grant_: Sir, you have given me occasion to be proud of my opponent. + +_Lee_: I have not spared my strength. I acknowledge its defeat. + +_Grant_: You have come-- + +_Lee_: To ask upon what terms you will accept surrender. Yes. + +_Grant (taking the paper from the table and handing it to_ LEE): They +are simple. I hope you will not find them ungenerous. + +_Lee (having read the terms_): You are magnanimous, sir. May I make +one submission? + +_Grant_: It would be a privilege if I could consider it. + +_Lee_: You allow our officers to keep their horses. That is gracious. +Our cavalry troopers' horses also are their own. + +_Grant_: I understand. They will be needed on the farms. It shall be +done. + +_Lee_: I thank you. It will do much towards conciliating our people. I +accept your terms. + +LEE _unbuckles his sword, and offers it to_ GRANT. + +_Grant_: No, no. I should have included that. It has but one rightful +place. I beg you. + +LEE _replaces his sword_. GRANT _offers his hand and_ LEE _takes it. +They salute, and_ LEE _turns to go_. + +THE CURTAIN FALLS. + +_The two Chroniclers_: A wind blows in the night, +And the pride of the rose is gone. +It laboured, and was delight, +And rains fell, and shone +Suns of the summer days, +And dews washed the bud, +And thanksgiving and praise +Was the rose in our blood. + +And out of the night it came, +A wind, and the rose fell, +Shattered its heart of flame, +And how shall June tell +The glory that went with May? +How shall the full year keep +The beauty that ere its day +Was blasted into sleep? + +Roses. Oh, heart of man: +Courage, that in the prime +Looked on truth, and began +Conspiracies with time +To flower upon the pain +Of dark and envious earth.... +A wind blows, and the brain +Is the dust that was its birth. + +What shall the witness cry, +He who has seen alone +With imagination's eye +The darkness overthrown? +Hark: from the long eclipse +The wise words come-- +A wind blows, and the lips +Of prophecy are dumb. + + +SCENE VI. + +_The evening of April_ 14, 1865. _The small lounge of a theatre. On +the far side are the doors of three private boxes. There is silence +for a few moments. Then the sound of applause comes from the +auditorium beyond. The box doors are opened. In the centre box can +be seen_ LINCOLN _and_ STANTON, MRS. LINCOLN, _another lady, and an +officer, talking together. + +The occupants come out from the other boxes into the lounge, where +small knots of people have gathered from different directions, and +stand or sit talking busily_. + +_A Lady_: Very amusing, don't you think? + +_Her Companion_: Oh, yes. But it's hardly true to life, is it? + +_Another Lady_: Isn't that dark girl clever? What's her name? + +_A Gentleman (consulting his programme_:) Eleanor Crowne. + +_Another Gentleman_: There's a terrible draught, isn't there? I shall +have a stiff neck. + +_His Wife_: You should keep your scarf on. + +_The Gentleman_: It looks so odd. + +_Another Lady_: The President looks very happy this evening, doesn't +he? + +_Another_: No wonder, is it? He must be a proud man. + +_A young man, dressed in black, passes among the people, glancing +furtively into_ LINCOLN'S _box, and disappears. It is_ JOHN WILKES +BOOTH. + +_A Lady (greeting another_): Ah, Mrs. Bennington. When do you expect +your husband back? + +_They drift away_. SUSAN, _carrying cloaks and wraps, comes in. She +goes to the box, and speaks to_ MRS. LINCOLN. _Then she comes away, +and sits down apart from the crowd to wait. + +A Young Man_: I rather think of going on the stage myself. My friends +tell me I'm uncommon good. Only I don't think my health would stand +it. + +_A Girl_: Oh, it must be a very easy life. Just acting--that's easy +enough. + +_A cry of_ "Lincoln" _comes through the auditorium. It is taken up, +with shouts of_ "The President," "Speech," "Abraham Lincoln," "Father +Abraham," _and so on. The conversation in the lounge stops as the +talkers turn to listen. After a few moments_, LINCOLN _is seen to +rise. There is a burst of cheering. The people in the lounge stand +round the box door_. LINCOLN _holds up his hand, and there is a sudden +silence_. + +_Lincoln_: My friends, I am touched, deeply touched, by this mark of +your good-will. After four dark and difficult years, we have achieved +the great purpose for which we set out. General Lee's surrender to +General Grant leaves but one Confederate force in the field, and the +end is immediate and certain. _(Cheers_.) I have but little to say +at this moment. I claim not to have controlled events, but confess +plainly that events have controlled me. But as events have come before +me, I have seen them always with one faith. We have preserved the +American Union, and we have abolished a great wrong. _(Cheers_.) The +task of reconciliation, of setting order where there is now confusion, +of bringing about a settlement at once just and merciful, and of +directing the life of a reunited country into prosperous channels of +good-will and generosity, will demand all our wisdom, all our loyalty. +It is the proudest hope of my life that I may be of some service in +this work. _(Cheers_.) Whatever it may be, it can be but little in +return for all the kindness and forbearance that I have received. With +malice toward none, with charity for all, it is for us to resolve that +this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that +government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not +perish from the earth. + +_There is a great sound of cheering. It dies down, and a boy passes +through the lounge and calls out_ "Last act, ladies and gentlemen." +_The people disperse, and the box doors are closed_. SUSAN _is left +alone and there is silence_. + +_After a few moments_, BOOTH _appears. He watches_ SUSAN _and sees +that her gaze is fixed away from him. He creeps along to the centre +box and disengages a hand from under his cloak. It holds a revolver. +Poising himself, he opens the door with a swift movement, fires, +flings the door to again, and rushes away. The door is thrown open +again, and the_ OFFICER _follows in pursuit. Inside the box_, MRS. +LINCOLN _is kneeling by her husband, who is supported by_ STANTON. +A DOCTOR _runs across the lounge and goes into the box. There is +complete silence in the theatre. The door closes again. + +Susan (who has run to the box door, and is kneeling there, sobbing_): +Master, master! No, no, not my master! + +_The other box doors have opened, and the occupants with others have +collected in little terror-struck groups in the lounge. Then the +centre door opens, and_ STANTON _comes out, closing it behind him. + +_Stanton_: Now he belongs to the ages. + + +THE CHRONICLERS _speak._ + +_First Chronicler_: Events go by. And upon circumstance Disaster +strikes with the blind sweep of chance. And this our mimic action was +a theme, Kinsmen, as life is, clouded as a dream. + +_Second Chronicler_: But, as we spoke, presiding everywhere Upon event +was one man's character. And that endures; it is the token sent Always +to man for man's own government. + + +THE CURTAIN FALLS. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Abraham Lincoln, by John Drinkwater + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11172 *** |