Abraham Lincoln: A Play Part 11

_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 n.o.ble and generous. But I believe that war must be wrong under any circ.u.mstances, 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 hara.s.s 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 n.o.ble. 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.

n.o.body 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.