Abraham Lincoln: A Play Part 21

_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, pa.s.ses 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 G.o.d, 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 pa.s.ses 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 circ.u.mstance 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.