With Malice Toward None

by

HONORE MORROW

                  CONTENTS

CIIAPTER                              PAGE
  I  A MAN OF INFINITE JEST           z59
 II  HEEL OF ACHILLES                 268
 III THE NOBLEST ROMAN OF THEM ALL    278
 IV  CREATED EQUAL                    284
  V  THE RAPPAHANNOCK                 29I
 VI  BOB MAKES A CALL                 299
 VII OBERON                           308
VIII                                  THE
FATHER OF WATERS GOES UNVEXED TO THE
     SEA                              32
 IX  POOR NANNY                       331
  X  THE EXPLOSIVE                    337

 XI HOPE                             34z

 XII A LOVER AT FIFTY                  348
 XIIIMEN ER WAR                        354
 XIV THE POCKET VETO                   359
 XV  THE REBEL HAVERSACK               369
 XVI THE TANGLED BURDEN                377
 XVII                                  
JEANIE DEANS                           385
 XVIII                                 THE
GREAT ISSUE                            392
 XIX                                   THE
RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL                 404
 XX  CLEARING THE DECKS                411
 XXI                                   
STARTING FROM PAUMONOK                 417
 XXII                                  THE
BLIND VICTOR                           4z2
 XXIII                                 TAD
S LITTLE AFFAIR                        427
 XXIV                                  
ANDREW JOHNSON                         432
 XXV                                   THE
QUALITY OF MERCY                       437
 XXVI                                  
RICHMOND                               443
 XXVII                                 GOD
S IN HIS HEAVEN                        449

     CHAPTER I
A MAN OF INFINITE JEST
OME ONE shouted, "Firer Firel Firel"

   Lincoln, who was standing beside the turnstile in the
fence between JO the grounds of the War Department and
the White House, talking to Vice President Hamlin
exclaimed, "By Jingsl" and pointed to a pink glow above the
roof of the Executive Mansion.

 Running figures appeared from nowhere, the vanguard of
that mysserious crowd which seems to exist only to attend
conflagrations. A fire engine belching sparks clanged up
Pennsylvania Avenue. The President leaped across the
snow-encrusted flower borders of the garden. Hamlin
followed. Lincoln's first thought was that here was more of
ten-year-old Taddie's mischief. Tad's mother had spanked
him that very day when she had found him under her bed
smoking one of the cigar ends Seward always was leaving
about. It looked to the President as if the east side of the
White House were in flames. With Hamlin running easily
beside him, he rounded the south portico and immediately
exclaimed in relief:

 "Oh, the stables! Hope the coachman and the horses are
out. There's the coachman, so he's safer"

 In spite of the efforts of mounted guards, people were
climbing the iron fence that bounded the grounds. By the
time the President and the Vice President had passed the
long colonnade that housed the woodsheds and the other
kitchen offices, there was a large crowd watching the flames
shoot up from the stables, Iying beyond the kitchen gardens.
People gave back slightly as Lincoln and Hamlin appeared
in the brilliant orange light.

 The two men were, in this year 1863, the same age,
fifty-four. Hamlin, a little over six feet tall, was magnificently
proportioned and as lean and powerful as an Indian. In fact,
he looked not unlike an Indian with a touch of the Roman
in the boldness and regularity of his features.

 The crowd was not much impressed by the arrival of the
Chief Executive.

"King of Americal" some one called in a sneering voice.

  Lincoln gave the Vice President a humorous glance. "Must
be referring to you, Hamlinl You look the part."

  Hamlin smiled grimly and with a slight jerk of his head
remarked, "Yonder is one who not only looks but feels the
partl"

  Lincoln's gaze followed the gesture. "Why, it's Charles
Sumnerl What's he doing here7 You're right, Hamlin, he'd
be an ornament to my job."

  In spite of the excitement of the conflagration, the Senator
from Massachusetts was making an impressive approach.

260 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "The man who would be kingl"cried the same voice that
had been heard before.

 Sumner did look the part. He was of equal height with
Lincoln, six feet four inches. His whole person breathed
elegance and authority. His very gesture as he came to
pause, of wrapping his blue broadcloth cape about him, was
made with an air of superiority that went well with the
dignity of his beautiful face and head. He was clean shaven
and his eyes were blue even in the fire glow.

 As for Lincoln, although the snuff-colored riding clothes
and the high riding boots were of the best mode his wife
saw to that there was nothing regal in Lincoln's
appearance, unless one caught the noble lines of brow and
cheek, the depth of the blue grey eye. Nothing of the king,
yet Sumner looking at him with a suddenly appraising eye
was moved to say:

"King to the commonalty. Whose phrase is that, I wonder?"

 Lincoln scarcely heard the query for there was a sudden
outcry from the stables.

 "They haven't got the horses outl" he ejaculated. "They're
screeching like womenl Burkel" plunging toward the
coachman, who was shrieking something incoherent into the
ear of the fire chief. "Burkel Tie wet gunny sacks over their
heads. I'll show you."

 Hamlin caught the snuff-colored sleeve and Sumner put a
well-gloved hand on Lincoln's shoulder. He did not struggle
against them but he said pleadingly to the fire chief, "My
boy's ponies are in therel I'd rather lose the White House
than those two little horses, Chiefl"

 "We'll do all we can, Mr. Lincoln," gasped the fireman
whose red shirt was dripping sooty water. "The heat just
drove me out. I'm going right back."

 Another dreadful outcry and the sound of beating hoofs
came from the flaming caldron. Lincoln shuddered. "I can't
stand itl Poor beasts!" He turned away. "We're no help here,
Hamlin. Were you on the way to my house, Senator?" As he
spoke he started along the path, to the east, thinking to
swing round the colonnade and gain the north entrance to
the mansion.

 "Yes, Mr. Lincoln," replied Sumner, following through the
snow and slush. "I've been talking with Secretary Seward
about that last note from France on intervention. Letting the
French minister visit Richmond was a grave mistake. I must
have a denial of intent on your and Seward's part to present
to the Senate in the morning, if you'll be so Good Godl"
as Lincoln clutched his arm and pointed.

 They had passed the stables and were moving through the
north garden before the colonnade which was brilliantly
lighted by the burning buildings beyond. A little figure in
red was darting across the end of the colonnade which
housed the carriages.

As it dropped from sight, "Tadl come backl" shouted
Lincoln.

 He leaped forward followed by Sumner and Hamlin.
Before they had taken half a dozen strides, the child
reappeared swarming up a ladder to

A MAN OF INFINITE JEST 261

the roof of the cow shed, adjacent to the stables. Holding his
flannel nightshirt around him, he danced up and down on the
icy roof, halted for the moment by his father's cry. His
chestnut hair was like a crimson halo round his excited little
face.

 "I'm going to get Willie's pony, Papa dayl" he shrieked, his
voice thin and hysterical. "I'm going my sec'et wayl" Tad
could not pronounce his Rs. He turned and with unbelievable
swiftness scrambled up the slippery roof to the air vent in the
rear wall of the stable. The three men staring up at him
roared in chorus, "Come backl" Taddie gave no heed.

 "You see, sir, this is what comes of not teaching children to
obeyl" exclaimed Hamlin.

 Lincoln groaned and leaped to the ladder. Being of
Taddie's own manufacture, it broke with his first step upward.
Hamlin darted away, crying, "I'll get a ladder in a moment."

"Give me a back, Charles," said Lincoln.

 The Senator stooped and Lincoln swung up on the roof just
as the tail of Taddie's shirt fluttered into the vent. Lincoln
was about to drop on all fours for the scramble upward when
a little voice arrested him.

"Go back, Papa day, go back or you'll slip and bust yo' neck."

 Sumner's voice came from below. "Thomas Lincoln, if you
lead your father into danger your mother'll punish you as
you've never been punished before!"

 "But Willie's ponyl Willie's ponyl" shrieked Tad. "Excepting
Pensacola, that's all the flesh and blood we got left of Willie.
I'm going, I tell you, I'm goingI"

 "Don't move, Mr. Lincoln. I've arranged the ladder and I'm
coming up," came Sumner's voice urbanely. "I can manage
him."

 Lincoln hesitated on the brink of the glowing icy sheet that
sloped up to his boy, torn between deadly fear for Tad and
chagrin over his own predicament. Here, indeed, was one of
the critical moments between him and one of his children
that Mary was always warning him would come and would
find him impotent. The Senator was now beside him,
breathing heavily He had been subject to attacks of angina
pectoris ever since Brooks had assaulted him in the Senate
seven years before. His great voice now rolled forth as
Lincoln had heard it so often in moments of passionate
debate:

 "Thomas Lincoln, if you don't come down, I'll come up and
break my malacca over your nether endl"

 Tad's head appeared in the opening, his face distorted by
anger and tears. He edged slowly down to the roof. "Willie's
ponyl" he sobbed.

"Hurry!" roared Sumner.

Tad slid downward to his father's arms.

 A moment later, when Hamlin appeared with a ladder and
two firemen, the rescue had been completed and Lincoln was
leading the way once more toward the north entrance.

"Mr. Sumner performed the miracle," explained the President,
"but at

z6z WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

cost to his poor heart, I'm afraid. Better come in and lie down,
Senator." "No, thank you, Mr. Lincoln," replied Sumner, "I'm
quite able to go home. You'll let me have that denial of
intent in the morning!"

"Yesl Yesl And a thousand thanks to your" exclaimed the
President.

 Sumner moved slowly but steadily enough toward the gates
and Lincoln turned to the Vice President:

 "He's as irresistible as the Mississippi in flood, isn't he,
Hamlinl Come in for a moment, will you, while I finish the
sentence the fire interrupted." He led the way into the
vestibule and stood beside the little Baltimore heater used
by the doorman, still holding Taddie.

 "You were warning me that Charles Sumner was my
enemy, Mr. Hamlin, and I was telling you that you were
wrong. Sumner thinks I'm slow and he doesn't care about my
manners. He doesn't agree with me fully on my
reconstruction ideas. He's often annoyed by my lack of
knowledge about laces and glass pots and steel engravings.
But at bottom, he's my friend. He wouldn't work against me
in an underhanded way. I love Charles Sumner. My wife and
our two boys are devoted to him. He's always round the
house, here."

 "That being the case" Hamlin unbuttoned his overcoat,
nervously  "why did Sumner come to me to-day and ask me
to run against you for the Presidency next years"

 Lincoln suddenly seated himself on the bench opposite the
heater. He felt the need of physical support. Had Hamlin
told him that his beloved chief secretary John George
Nicolay had turned against him he could not have been more
hurt.

 "Oh, come, Hamlinl He must have been joking youl I can't
swallow thatl"

 "Then you can't swallow Lyman Trumbull, Ben Wade,
Winter Davis, Horace Greeley " began Hamlin.

 Lincoln interrupted. "I know all about those fellows. But
not Sumner. No, Mr. Hamlin, not Charles Sumnerl"

 "Very well, sirl" Hamlin's deep voice was troubled. "I
would very much dislike being quoted in the matter, but
you'd better tell Sumner what I've said and get the answer
from his own lips."

 "I don't like to do thatl" protested Lincoln. "I don't want
to start an issue with Sumner."

 The Vice President made an impatient gesture with his
mittened hand. "In making no issue, Mr. Lincoln, I beg of
you, don't deceive yourself. Sumner would prefer me in the
White House, or Chase, or himself, to you. And understand
me clearly. I shan't run for the Presidency. I don't want the
job. I don't like the one I've got. I'd rather be back in the
Senate this minute than anywhere else on earth."

 Lincoln loosened his neck scarf with a ruthless forefinger.
"This is worse than telling me General Hooker has mired the
Army of the Potomac as deep as Burnside did. I need
Sumner in Congress. I've hardly a friend up there and I was
depending on him."

A MAN OF INFINITE JEST 263

 "Your war with Congress, Mr. Lincoln, is almost as serious
in its effect on public morale as the war with the South.
You "

 Hamlin was interrupted by the sudden appearance in the
inner door of a slender youth in evening clothes.

 "Oh, there he isl Father, mother's frantic. She missed Tad
only a few moments ago and she's coming right out to look
for him. Nothing can stop her. I'm sorry, Mr. Hamlin," with
an apologetic smile and bow for the Vice President.

 "Coming this moment, Bobl" exclaimed Lincoln, rising and
smiling down at Tad who during the conversation with
Hamlin had been half snifRing, half listening in his father's
arms. "dings, I'd forgotten the childl Good-night, Mr.
Hamlinl" He started hastily into the hall, followed by his son
Bob.

 Half way down the private staircase he met his wife. She
was a dignified little person, even in a black padded dressing
gown and with great chestnut braids hanging over her
shoulders.

 "What does this meant" she cried. "Bob, I told you he'd
gone to the fire and caught his death's cold, the bad, bad
boy."

Tad's snivelling suddenly changed to hysterical shrieking.

 "For goodness' sakel" groaned Bob. "Let's move this scene
of domestic bliss where it won't bring in the newspaper
reporters!"

 Lincoln, who had been steadily mounting the stairs, strode
down the upper hall to Tad's bedroom. His wife followed.
Bob, who was only nineteen, remained rigid with disgust at
the head of the stairs.

 Lincoln dropped Tad down on the bed. Mary thrust her
husband aside, turned Tad's flannel gown up and spanked
him heartily. It was exactly the restorative he needed. In a
moment, he was sitting up, quietly wiping his face with his
father's handkerchief and drinking the milk his mother had
set to heat on the bob the moment she had discovered his
absence.

 Lincoln watched the two, smiling. Tad's escapades and his
mother's handling of him were one of his chief amusements.
The large square room was shadowy but an enormous hobby
horse could be seen in the corner nearest the bed and ranks
of toy soldiers marched resolutely across the hearth where the
coal are glowed. Mary's round cheeks were as pink as a girl's.
Her beautiful blue eyes in which, as she ministered to her
son, her irrepressible sense of humor struggled with a temper
of which Taddie's was the replica, were dancing with
excitement. Tad, who was like his mother not only in
disposition but had also her round face and delicate, sensitive
mouth, gulped his sobs with his milk and proclaimed his inno-
cence of any desire to drive his mother to her grave with
worry. It was Willie's pony I

 Sudden tears filled his mother's eyes. She stooped and
kissed the child's quivering lips. "If the pony's gone up to
heaven to join Willie, let's be glad for both their sakes."

 "Ohl" gasped Tad. "I hadn't thought of that " There was
a long silence while he absorbed the idea.

264 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 His father tiptoed into the hall and across to the sitting
room where Pensacola and Sumter, Willie's and Tad's hound
dogs, lay as usual asleep on a sofa. He gathered them up in
his arms and made his way back to the bedroom.

"There," dropping them on the bed. "All you boys go to
sleepl"

  A moment of patient waiting on his father's and mother's
part and Tad was in dreamland with a dog on either side
of him. Mary turned out the light, Lincoln caught her fingers
and they crossed into the President's bedroom which was just
opposite. It was lighted only by the crackling fire that
brought out highlights on the fine old rosewood and
mahogany furniture with which the great room was filled.
Husband and wife stood warming their fingers before the
blaze.

  "Was there anything especially bad at the War Office,
Abra'm, that kept you so later" asked Mary.

  "Nothing unusual. Things look as black as they well can. I
believe General Hooker can make the Army of the Potomac
fight. Whether or not he can keep tavern for a vast army is
another matter. Stanton is dissatisfied with him already. I
hope Stanton's not going to get one of his hates against
Hooker. I don't know where I should turn."

  "You'll have to turn to some one soon who'll lead the
Army of the Potomac to a real victory or the country will
turn completely against your administration," said Mary,
succinctly.

  "I can't Create a general, my dear wifel" protested Lincoln.
"I remember one of Speed's stories concerned a fellow who
advertised that he could make a new man out of an old one
and have enough left over to make a little yellow dog. I wish
I had the fellow's address. Perhaps if he left in the material
for the dog, he could turn me out a general who could stand
on his own legs."

  Mary laughed. "Goodness knows you've got plenty of old
gentlemen in the army to choose froml but the fruitless
slaughter is sapping the country's morale, Abra'm."

  Lincoln sighed and said nothing for a moment as he
thought of his disappointment in Burnside, whom he had
appointed to succeed McClellan in the Army of the
Potomac. However, it was a comfort to remember that
though he had dallied long in taking off McClellan's head,
he had not closed his eyes to Burnside's weaknesses but had
given him only a few weeks of trial before replacing him with
Hooker. And Hooker was showing little genius, thus far. He
shook himself to throw off the familiar miasma and chuckled
as he said:

  "Hooker's latest remark is that what the country needs is
a dictator both for the army and the Government. I told him
that only those generals who obtain success could set up
dictators; that if he'd give me military successes, I'd risk the
dictatorship He's a handsome fellow."

  "So is McClellan," commented Mary, drily. "They're all so
childish! As a matter of fact, since you've absorbed what
your General-in-Chief knows of the military art, you're the
best of them all. Charles Dana told me so."

A MAN OF INFINITE JEST 265

 "Oh, he's just prejudiced by his liking for me." Lincoln
shook his head with a sigh. "I think Grant is a coming man
in spite of his present unpopularity."

 "Grant is a butchers" exclaimed his wife. "That's why the
public is against him."

 "Grant fights" insisted the President, but with a sick pang as
he thought of the frightful losses that followed in the little
General's wake.

 "You might feel differently about him if your own kin were
in his army," protested Mary.

"Has Bob been talking to you again?" asked Lincoln.

 Mary turned a startled face up to him. "Nor" she gasped.
"Abratm, don't tell me he's talking enlistment again."

 "I haven't had any real talk with him since he appeared on
the scene this morning. But I reckon that's what he's come
down from Harvard for. There's blood in the boy's eye, if I
know the boy. Am I right, Bob?" as their first born put his
head in at the door.

 "You sometimes are, sir," he replied with his father's own
twinkle in his grey eyes. He was of medium height with his
mother's elegance of carriage, a curiously quiet face more
like his mother's in outline, yet marked by a baffling and
inescapable look of his father. He joined his parents before
the fire, slipping his arm about his mother.

"What is it you want, Bobbie7" she demanded, suspiciously.

"Can't I hug you without wanting something7" asked Bob with
an in

. , .

urea alr.

"Never since you were a babyl" retorted his mother.

  "Well, then, I do want something. I want to enlist. I want
to go just as a private with no preferment because of father.
I can't bear to be cloistered up there at Harvard when all my
friends are doing their share at the front. I can't stand it and
I won't." He tossed his hair back from his forehead with a
jerk. His mother turned to face him, her lips quivering. But
before she could speak, Bob went on: "And I don't want to
wallow round hopelessly in the mud with the Army of the
Potomac, either. I want to go out to Grant."

"Nor" shrieked his mother.

  Lincoln put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't lose your grip
on yourself, Mary. The boy's right in his desire. I'm glad he
has it. But," smiling down into Bob's belligerent eyes, "you're
only nineteen, son. Wait a year for your mother's sake."

  "You can't gol It'll kill mel" sobbed Mary. "Baby Eddie and
Willie both in their graves. I can't be asked to spare another
son."

"They didn't die to save father's Union," protested Bob.

"If they had, I'd have been reconciled," said his mother.

  The boy looked up at his father with helpless exasperation
in his eyes. Lincoln shook his head. This was an old scene. A
year ago Bob had begun his pleading and now his every visit
home was marred by this contention with his mother. He was
utterly weary of this struggle between the two.

266 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "Mary," he said slowly, gripping both her shoulders and
stilling her sobs with what Mary called his "granite" look,
"Mary, we'd better let him go. I honor him for feeling as he
does."

"Abratml Abra'ml" screamed Mary.

  "Hushl Oh mother, for pity's sake, the servants will hear
your" Bob ran across the room to close the hall door.

  But it was not Bob's expostulation that silenced her. It was
the continued look in her husband's eyes. She suddenly put
her hands before her trembling lips and waited.

  "Bob isn't going without your consent, wife. But you're
going to be a woman certainly not less a woman than these
countless other mothers North and South. Bob, you go back
to Harvard for another year, then I'll give you a commission
and mother'll let you go, eh, mothers"

"I I'll tryl" gasped Mary.

"But I want to go as a private!" Bob flushed.

"Neverl Neverl" from his mother.

  "But, mother, can't you see what a position you put me ins
It's bad enough up there in Cambridge to be the President's
son, but to be the President's son and a coward it's Hades,
that's what it isl"

  Lincoln eyed him a little hopelessly. Bob had all his
mother's sensitiveness and all her restless energy.

  "I swear," he ejaculated, "you two are worse than a pair of
brigadiergenerals to manager Every inch of you covered with
corns. You say all your friends are fighting, Bob. Yet your
buddy, Edgar Welles, is still in college."

  "His father's only Secretary of the Navy. So much isn't
expected of him. And besides, he really does some important
things for his father and that contents him. Secretary Welles
sends him on secret missions that're important." Bob sighed.

  "That's true," mused Lincoln, "and Edgar, as near as I can
see, isn't one whit steadier than you. It's hard for me to
realize you're grown, Bob. You're still the little rare rip
whose nose was always running."

  Bob managed a feeble grin. His mother eyed the two with
unabated anxiety.

  Lincoln went on. "I reckon I haven't been taking advantage
of the material in my own family Bob, you go up to Harvard
till the Easter holidays. Don't make any plans for visiting
during that time because I'll have an errand for you to do."

The grin on Bob's face widened. "Really important, fathers"

"Will it be dangerous7" pleaded his mother.

  Father and son looked at each other. "It'll be a full-sized
man's job," replied Lincoln.

  A sob caught in Mary's throat. She started toward the
door that led into her room, hesitated, turned and said, "It's
just because I love you both sol I'd give my life to save the
Union, any time, but I can't spare either of you." Then she
left them.

A MAN OF INFINITE JEST 267

 Bob held out his hand. "Good-night, father. I'm off early.
I'll see you in April."

 Lincoln grasped the firm young hand and looked keenly
into the clear young eyes. "You go and make it up with your
mother, Bob. She carries the dirtiest end of this load in
Washington. Don't ever forget that."

Bob nodded and crossed into his mother's room.

 Lincoln, undressing slowly, was comfortably aware of their
voices but this could not lift his weary depression. Everything
he had touched, everything he had planned and prayed for in
the past two years, except the Emancipation Proclamation,
seemed to have gone awry. He was a potter who could mold
only crooked pots, he told himself grimly. And even the
Proclamation was heartbreakingly slow in getting military
results. The belief he had had that it would bring vast
numbers of negroes over to the Union lines had not been
fulfilled. Men, colored or white, were needed so badly by the
North that the cold sweat started to his forehead as he
thought of the imminence of his having to enforce the draft
on unwilling Northerners.

 But these facts were no sudden burden. They had been
accumulating gradually and somehow his shoulders had
developed strength sufficient for the load. It had been
endurable. But the fact divulged by Hamlin that night,
concerning Sumner, he told himself was pretty near a last
straw. As he stood by the fire in his dressing gown the
significance of it came home to him, making him feel actually
ill.

 All his plans for saving the Union included Sumner and
Sumner was not his friendl Nay, more, Sumner was seeking
to undermine himl

 He groaned and, laying his arm on the mantel, dropped his
head against it.

 A clang of a bell and a clatter of hoofs roused him. The
fire engine was going home. He looked at the clock. Ten
minutes past two. He hoped the sudden clangor had not
wakened Tad. But as he raised his hand to turn off the light,
there was a sound of whimpering, the hall door opened, and
Tad in the red nightshirt appeared.

 His face was screwed into a knot as he rushed to his father.
"Papa day, I had a bad d'eam. I thought the stables bu'ned up
and Willie's and my ponies "

 Once more Lincoln lifted him. "Shl Shl You'll wake mother,
darling Tad."

"Let me get in bed with you, else I'll d'eam it againl"

 "That's a good notion," agreed his father. "I've been having
a nightmare myself. We'll protect each other."

 He laid Tad on the bed, turned out the light, opened the
window and got in beside the child. Tad nestled against him,
and as the moon sank slowly below the window ledge father
and son fell asleep.

CHAPTER II

            EIEEL OF ACIIILI ES

  1AD was in good form the next morning. The family
dining room 1 was a cheerful spot, full of flowering plants
and singing birds. With

    the birds and Tad competing in eloquence, the whole
story of the events of the previous night came out.
Horror-stricken though she was, Mary laughed immoderately
as the little boy lisped through his tale. She seized on the
opportunity to produce one of her inimitable mimicries.

 "Thomas Lincoln," she quoted, raising both her plump
arms in Sumner's familiar gesture, "Thomas Lincoln, if you
ever again make such a little fool of yourself, I shall add
your father's malacca to the Senator's."

 Even James, the colored factotum, passing buckwheats to
the President, grinned while Tad and his father shouted.
After a moment Mary suddenly resumed to her own
character and said, thoughtfully, "Mr. Sumner ought to have
a dozen children of his own."

 "Can't find a woman good enough for him, I suppose,"
suggested the President, finishing his coffee.

 "He hasn't that attitude at all," contradicted Mary. "Mrs.
Seward and I have often wondered if he didn't have an
unfortunate affair in his youth."

 Lincoln replied, as he rose from the table, that he was not
inclined to be sentimental over the Senator's past, and
added, "I hope Sumner's future doesn't hold an unfortunate
affair for Lincolnl" He left Mary blinking.

 As he made his way up the private staircase and along the
upper hall to his office, he told himself that he'd enlighten
Mary about Sumner when they were alone that night. Then
he tried to put the matter out of his mind.

 His office, which was also the Cabinet room, was just
shabby enough to make Lincoln feel at home in it. It looked
south over the marshes to the Potomac. Lincoln liked rivers.
They had belonged to his boyhood. His desk stood at right
angles to one of the windows. The huge old oak Cabinet
table monopolized the center of the room. Mary had tried
to hide its scars with a red felt cloth which Tad had
promptly spattered with ink. There was a good fire crackling
in the grate this morning under the portrait of old General
Jackson. A sleet storm was beginning; had already obscured
the red Virginia hills. Perhaps the storm would be violent
enough to keep people from pestering him, Lincoln thought
hopefully as he seated himself at his crowded desk. He
picked up a telegram and began to wonder before he read
it whether or not Sumner would call in person for the report
on the French Minister's indiscretion. Perhaps he'd better
ask the Senator, point blank

HEEL OF ACHILLES z69

 He was interrupted by Billy Stoddard, one of his three
secretaries. Billy, a tall, slender youth, a good deal worn by
the anxieties of his work as mail clerk and first buffer
between the President and the public, smiled at Lincoln.

 "I know you hoped for a quiet day, sir, but the reception
room's jammed already. I was going to hold everybody off for
at least an hour but Messrs. Wade, Chandler, and Trumbull
have just arrived and are whanging and banging and winding
the horn for the drawbridge to be let down."

 "I'm sorry my old friend Trumbull's turned on me," sighed
Lincoln. "He has too much brain to be taking the course he
is with those other two. However, war makes strange
bedfellows. If Trumbull ever makes up with me I'll ask him
if it's because he's heard it's bad luck to sleep three in a bed.
Tell them I'll see them shortly, Billy." He rose, suddenly
determined to tell Mary about Sumner now. The thing just
wouldn't leave his mind and perhaps she'd have a helpful
suggestion. "I'll be back in ten or fifteen minutes," he added,
and, rising, made his way into the private passage that led to
the family sitting room. This was the President's favorite
apartment in the Executive Mansion. Oval in shape, it faced
south with a view of the marshes and the Potomac to the hills
of Virginia. Its furnishings were old and hybrid. Heavily
upholstered couches of President Monroe's regime
shouldered the Sheraton chairs of the Adamses' occupancy
and the clumsy Empire tables left by the Van Burens. The
Brussels carpet in faded reds, greens, pinks, and blues had
been laid by the Pierces. It was a rather hopeless mixture
from the artistic viewpoint, but it spoke to Lincoln of the
domestic life of his predecessors and made them his friends.
He was glad that beyond renovating the room, Mary had left
it alone. She kept it filled with flowers. Her rare
understanding of plants had caused the White House
conservatories to bloom as never before.

 A bright fire of cannel coal blazed in the grate. Sleet
slashed the windows. The odor of a great bowl of white
freesias filled the air. Mary was arranging a basket of moss
roses on the round table in the middle of the room. She
looked up at him with an interrogatory smile.

 "I suppose Sumner would know the name of every flower
and plant in the house," said Lincoln, pausing before the fire.
"Confound the fellowl Lord Lyons told me the other day that
when Sumner visits England he tells the natives more about
their trees and shrubs than they know themselves. I reckon
when you and he run short on French, you talk the 'language
of flowers' to each otherl"

 Mary laughed heartily. "We haven't run short on French yet
but that's a valuable suggestion. What's on your mind about
him, Mr. President7"

 "I came in to tell you." And in a few crisp words he
repeated Hamlin's statements.

 Mary dropped her roses and stood staring at her husband,
horror, unbelief, and pain following each other across her
face.

z70 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

  "Abra'm, there's some mistakel I can't believe itl What
motive could he have?"

  Lincoln, pulling at his chin, replied dejectedly, "I think, or
rather I hope, that mainly he doesn't understand what I'm
trying to do."

  "Of course he understands!" insisted Mary. "But he's an
Abolitionist, and your slow methods exasperate him."

  "There's more fire than that behind Hamlin's smoke,"
shaking his head. "Mary, I just don't see how I can bind the
Union together, either now or after the war, without
Sumner."

  "Do you believe he's strong enough to lose you the
renominations" asked Mary quickly.

"If the Union defeats continue for another year, yes."

"Can't you compromise with him, somehow7" she suggested.

  "Nor" thinking aloud. "He'll never compromise. If
Sumner's my enemy " He paused, shaking his head.

  Mary lifted her chin defiantly. "He's not your enemyl He
must have tried to be facetious with Mr. Hamlin. And
Charles Sumner trying to be funny is terrible. He says the
most insulting and the most insane things, under the
impression that he's being playful. You know as well as I do
how his lack of humor handicaps him. I don't think he's
capable of intriguing, Abratm. He's as guileless as a child."

  "So'm I," declared Lincoln, grimly, "and I'm up to my
scruff in intrigue all the time."

  "Your Guilelessl" Mary sniffed and began to rearrange the
roses, but almost immediately dropped them and bit at her
fingers, tensely. Then she said, "Is Sumner actually
indispensable to you, Abratm7 What worries you most, the
fact that he may prevent you having a second term, or that
he won't work with you to save the Union7"

  "I reckon they both mean the same thing in the long run,"
replied the President. "You see, I've always counted on him.
But particularly since I signed the Emancipation
Proclamation last month he's seemed to want to work with
me. Mary, I've got to have Sumner."

  "Then you shall have himl" Mary squared her small
shoulders and brought her small fist down on the
marble-topped table. "I don't know how I can help but I will.
Incidentally, I've asked him with Alice Hooper and her
father-in-law to join us in our box at the theater to-night."

  "Do I know Alice Hooper7 Any relation to Congressman
Hooper from Boston7"

  "Only his daughter-in-law!" replied Mary. "Don't you
remember her at the Sewards' dinner the other night? She
is tall and blonde and young with wonderful yellow hair. Her
husband is on General Banks' staff in New Orleans."

  "Yesl Yesl Gave me the tips of her fingers and a cold
starer Friend of Sumner's, isn't she? I think I heard some
one say so."

"Mr. Sumner almost lives at Congressman Hooper's house.
Alice is

HEEL OF ACHILLES 271

there with her little daughter during her husband's absence.
She's socially very brilliant." Mary tapped her lips softly with
a stalk of freesia.

  "That lets me out, then," grunted Lincoln. "Perhaps I'd
better bring Sumner here after the theater and have Hamlin's
rumor out with him."

  "No! Nol Let him make the first move. Take your own time,
my dearl" coming over to pat his arm. "Perhaps when you've
had time to think this over it won't seem so nearly fatal."

  Lincoln shook his head impatiently and then put his great
hand on her shoulder, while he repeated with that enormous
earnestness which never failed to convince his hearer,

  "Make no mistake about the importance of this, Mary. It
was pretty bad when my old friend Lyman Trumbull went back
on me and joined up with ultraradicals like Ben Wade and
Winter Davis and the rest of those fellows who want to
exterminate the Southerners. But I could hitch along without
him, as you see. He's no such power in the Senate and the
country as Sumner is, though he's a smart man. Sumner, if he
wants to, can keep me from saving the Union even though we
win the war. Now do you see why I'm so upset?"

  "Yes, my dear husband, I see," replied Mary soberly. She
reached up to straighten his tie. "I'll do all I can to hold him
for you. Perhaps some plan will come to me before a crisis
rises between you and him."

  "That's what I came in to hear you say, Mary." He smiled
down at her, glanced again unseeingly at the telegram in his
hand and turned abruptly back to his office.

  Nicolay was waiting for him; rather a sallow young man with
a little dark goatee and a beautifully modeled forehead and
brow. He wore the same anxious, overtired air that had been
so marked in young Stoddard but his smile as he spoke to the
President was brilliant.

  "Trumbull, Wade and Davis wouldn't wait for you, Mr.
Lincoln. Senator Sumner and General Butler were here during
your absence. Butler wanted Sumner to say a word to you
about restoring his command in New Orleans. He was in a
terribly excited state; talked so wildly that Sumner dragged
him away."

  "Afraid he'd kick over a beehive, I suppose," said Lincoln,
as he settled to his desk again. "Sumner's always trying to
advance Butler; wants the General's political support."

  "That's just what Butler did kicked over a beehive!"
exclaimed Nicolay. "I'm wondering if there's anything to what
he said. I think I'd better tell you, sir."

"Fire away, Georgel" Lincoln waited with interest.

  Nicolay walked up and down in an excited way as he talked.
"Well, after Butler had cussed out you and Secretary Stanton
for not restoring him to New Orleans in spite of the French
resentment over his Woman Order, to say nothing of the
English, Sumner added fuel to the flame by saying that you'd
told him you could accomplish more in the way of
reconstructing Louisiana through a soft-spoken fellow like
General Banlcs

27z WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

than through the fire-eating General Butler. Butler slammed
his kepi on the floor when he heard this. 'God help the
Union,' he roared. 'Soft spokenl Why, those fellows down
there look on softness as fear. We've got to treat them as
the conqueror always has treated the conquered, or there'll
never be an end to insurrection. Confiscate their estates and
give them to the niggersl Transport the Secessionists and
their families to Texas or Mexicol' and a good deal more
along that line."

"What did Sumner say to it?" asked Lincoln eagerly.

 "Mr. Lincoln," replied Nicolay, hammering his fist into his
palm, "Sumner nodded and said that that was the only way
to handle reconstruction of the seceding States; to give the
land and the vote to the negro and he'd come to full
manhood at a single stride. I couldn't stand that so I
remarked that no such double gift would be made to the
negro while Abraham Lincoln occupied this room. And
Butler came back at me like a charging bull. 'Then we'll put
Hannibal Hamlin here as Sumner suggests. Hamlin doesn't
see the nigger and the alligator as social equals!' Sumner
grabbed him then and rushed him out. Do you believe
Sumner has turned on you, sir?"

 Lincoln did not answer directly. "I'd say the beehive was
turned upside down," was his comment as he turned from
Mcolay to stare out the window.

 It looked as if he'd have to believe that Sumner was about
to head the movement of Lincoln's own party against
Lincoln. The party and the country were sick of this war of
Union defeats. And every day that Grant dallied before
Vicksburg, every hour that Hooker held the Army of the
Potomac inactive while he waited for the mud on the
Rappahannock to dry, added to the general discontent with
Lincoln, the Commander-inChief, and strengthened
Sumner's hand. It looked as if he must face the idea that
he'd have only the two remaining years of his term of office
in which to end the war and rebuild the Union, only two
years in which to purge and purify the conquered States and
weld them into the whole so that never again could
secession lift its head; Sumner had well named the process
reconstruction.

 With all possible speed, he must give the handful of Union
men always to be found in each conquered State a chance
to restore their State governments. But this was
impracticable unless he had immediate victories. If only
there were men enough to feed to Grantl Grant who fought
and slaughtered and attended to his own business. More
men and mo're men God help the poor boysl He shivered
and suddenly was conscious of Mcolay watching him sadly.

 "George, this colored man, Fred Douglass. Have you ever
heard him speak?"

 "No, sir, but I know he's considered powerful by the
Boston Abolitionists. Secretary Chase might be able to tell
you about him. He had Douglass at his house for tea not
long since. Charles Sumner was there."

"Chase is a great Secretary of the Treasury," commented
Lincoln drily.

HEEL OF ACHILLES z73

"I'd place Sumner as one of the greatest Senators we've ever
had. But I'd never take the estimate either one of 'em made
of another human being. They've got no feelers. George, I
wish you'd arrange for Douglass to come to see me as soon
as you can."

"Does he come secretly, Mr. Lincoln?"

  "Certainly not. Get Sumner or Chase or Hamlin to bring
him to my office here and let me have an hour or two alone
with him. Who's outside now7"

  "A group of men from Boston headed by Wendell Phillips.
They want to protest against your dilatory prosecution of the
war. There's a woman weeping her heart out. Wants a
reprieve for her son. Half a dozen other women not weeping.
Ten or fifteen of the generality as you call them. Better let me
take care of the lot of them."

  "Nol Nol I'll see what they think about things. Give me the
weeping widow first and the Boston set last."

  In spite of the weather it was a particularly crowded day.
People's deep depression made them restless, made them turn
to him as the ultimate authority, with every sort of plea, made
them crowd him with impossible suggestions and with
preposterous claims and recriminations. He took dinner about
three o'clock on a tray in his office, and did not stop for
supper till Tad came for him at six.

  The storm was over when the Lincolns started for the
"heater. Their sleigh carried them through a world of icy
beauty until it encountered F Street. This unpaved
thoroughfare was completely blocked by a train of eight-mule
army wagons stalled in the half frozen quagmires left by gun
carriages. The moonlight, the flickering lanterns, the kicking
mules, the cursing drivers made a more cheering picture than
the President had seen that day.

  He called to Burke to stop the sleigh. "I can tell those
contrabands in a minute how to straighten out their mules,"
pushing back the buffalo robe.

  "Abra'm, don't be a fool," snapped Mary, pulling the robe
back vigorously over her husband's knees. "You're in evening
clothes and you happen to be Chief Executive, not Chief Mule
Driver. Get along, Burkel Turn down to Pennsylvania
Avenue."

  "Maybe you're right, wife," agreed Lincoln, amicably. "But
it wouldn't have taken me half a minute to point out to those
drivers that swearing at one another instead of at the mules
is plumb foolish."

  "Yes, and you'd have provided the newspapers with another
priceless bon mot. 'Lincoln finds his level, etc.' Anyhow,"
snuggling against him, "I want to enjoy this sleigh ride with my
beau. Do you remember our first sleigh rider"

  "Yes," replied the President, promptly. "I cut Steve Douglas
out and took you home in Steve's own cutter from Edwards'
cotillion party. We drove two or three miles out into the
prairie just from sheer deviltry."

  "You do remember!" Mary gave a contented sigh and for a
moment they bumped along Pennsylvania Avenue without
speaking. It was pictur

274 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

esque and they both enjoyed it; the cavalryman beside each
street lamp, the lines of soldiers entering the gayly lighted
oyster bars, the ambulances with mounted drivers, street
hawkers, newsboys, galloping aides and the glitter of ice on
tree and roof.

 Mary gave herself a little shake. "Well, I must come back
from Springfield and give you a little gossip I've picked up.
Mrs. Seward told me to-day that it's being whispered about
that Charles Sumner has a very sentimental attachment for
Alice Hooper. I want you to watch them together. If this is
true there may be a spot in Achilles' heel by which I can get
a real hold on him."

 "Now, just why should you want me to bother with a thing
like thatl" demanded the President. "You know as well as I
and all the rest of the world that Sumner is so much above
an unwarranted interest in a married woman "

 "Who said there was anything unwarranted in itl"
interrupted Mary, indignantly. "But if it gives Alice Hooper
an influence on Sumner and I can get her ear "

"Oh, nonsense!" ejaculated Lincoln.

 Mary moved away from him. "Very well, sirl You come to
me another time for helpl"

The President gave a comfortable, low laugh. "I undoubtedly
shalll"

 "You'd better notl" snapped Mary, and refused to speak
again during the few minutes remaining before they reached
the "heater. They were a little late though they had tried as
usual to be a little early, for it was always something of an
ordeal for Lincoln to enter the lighted box and there be
greeted by the audience coming to its feet. It was worse than
usual to-night, for during the rather perfunctory salutation
a man in the dress circle shouted, "Nero fiddles while Rome
burnsl" There was a spatter of "Bravos" at this, quickly
drowned by cries of "Shamel Shamel" A group of soldiers in
the front row just beneath the stage rushed up the aisle
shouting, "Put him outl" They seized the offending
gentleman in the dress circle and hustled him to the door,
filing back just as all opera glasses were again trained on the
President's box. Charles Sumner was entering with Mrs.
Hooper on his arm. Lincoln rose and led her to the chair
beside his.

 She was a truly beautiful woman of the fine blond type
that New England occasionally produces; very tall and
slender with thick golden hair worn in curls over her
shoulders, with large, light blue eyes heavily shaded, with a
faultless skin and delicately perfect features. She wore a
low-necked frock of pink satin with an enormous skirt
caught up with rosebuds. The Senator arranged her ermine
coat carefully over the back of her chair then seated himself
between Mrs. Hooper and Mary.

 Before any conversation could take place the curtain rose
on Maggie Mitchell in "The Cricket on the Hearth." Mary
had been reading Dickens aloud to Lincoln that winter as a
substitute for Petroleum Nasby in those stark night hours
when he sometimes appealed to her for help. Nothing

                  HEEL OF ACHILLES

could have suited him better this night than this exquisitely homely play.
As the curtain went down on the first act, he turned to Mrs. Hooper.

 "How that fellow does understand human naturelMy wife's read the
'Cricket' to me and the 'Pickwick Papers.' Dickens has a lot in common
with Shakespeare, according to my reading of the two men. Old Weller
and Falstaffl Both of 'em tavern clowns of a kind you meet anywhere.
Take any character of Dickens or Shakespeare. They're so close to reality
you're certain both men picked 'em out of the crowd from actual people.
Maggie Mitchell is great. My old, dried, withered eyes are full of tears

 yet."                                          !

 "It does seem a pity," said Mrs. Hooper with a sigh, and with one eye
on Sumner, "that the British dislike us so when we have such an ardent
admiration for their literature."

Sumner cleared his throat but Mary forestalled him.

 "One has to distinguish between their literature and their political" she
exclaimed. "Knowing Lord Lyons has taught me that. Socially, I'm quite
in love with him. Politically, I think he's disgusting. When I read British
books and plays I admire everything British. When I read their speeches
against the Northern cause and see the vile cartoons of the President
that Punch publishes, I could bite them."

 "It's best to base your friendship for men or nations on something that
politics can't taint," said Sumner. "Bitterly disappointed as I am in the
English attitude toward us, nothing shakes my essential admiration for
them. It's their way of thinking that's made England the cradle of the
world's liberty. You mustn't let the ebullitions of rather stupid politicians
influence you, Madam Presidentl"

 "Good heavens, Senator, this from your" ejaculated Mary. "What of
your turning against Mr. Seward and Charles Francis Adams and "

 He interrupted her with a dignified toss of his great head. "Doesn't that
prove what I've just said? It's evident I've made no solid basis for my
friendship there."

 "I shall never dare to differ from you on politics again, Senatorl" ex-
claimed Mrs. Hooper, touching him archly with her pink feather fan.

 Lincoln, listening with only half an ear, was brought back by suddenly
observing a boyish blush on Sumner's face as he bent toward Mrs.
Hooper and said with great tenderness: "You'll make me very unhappy,
Alice, unless you convince me that you dare to talk to me about any or
everything."

 "Jingsl" thought the President. "I wonder if Mary's right as usuall" and
as Sumner continued to gaze tenderly into the blue eyes turned up to his,
"Some one ought to wake him up. Talk about me providing bon mote for
the public!" with a glance at the opera glasses levered toward the box. He
looked at Mary. She returned the look with an unmistakable
I-told-you-so expression. He smiled at her and her lips twitched. Peace
was declared.

Mary touched Sumner on the knee.

z76 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "Isn't that Lord Lyons nodding at you from the dress
circle, Mr. Sumner7"

 Sumner with a sigh followed her gaze. A moment later
Lord Lyons entered the box and Mrs. Hooper devoted
herself to him during the remaining intermissions. Just as
the curtain dropped on the last act, a message came from
Secretary Seward to Lincoln. The French had landed an
army in Mexico. Lincoln left Mary in the care of Lord Lyons
and hurried off to Seward's house. It was long after
midnight when he reached home.

He sent for Sumner the next morning and gave him the
news.

  "I suppose Mr. Seward has already sent off a provocative
note to Louis Napoleon7" was Sumner's first remark.

  "Seward'll do nothing without my approval," replied
Lincoln, a little impatiently. The nearer Sumner came to
truth in his comments on the Secretary of State, the more,
Lincoln told himself, it irritated him.

  Sumner raised his eyebrows and smoothed back his mane
of waving chestnut hair with the gesture that was the
unfailing joy of sarcastic newspaper men. "This will please
the South, inordinately," he said.

  "And this will please a lot of fire-eating Northerners,"
added Lincoln, "that whole set of blind boasters who declare
we can lick all of Europe in spite of our difficulty in
reducing the rebellion. Mark my word, Senator, some fool
will get up in a day or so in Congress and declare war on
France. Can you scotch the debater Better still, can you
head it off7"

  Sumner spoke quite simply. "I can block the passing of any
resolution, of course. Perhaps I can block debate, also, if
you think that's advisable."

  "With M. Mercier ready to misinterpret and Lyons ready
to be grieved  I certainly do think it's advisable!" said
Lincoln earnestly. Then he added a little sternly: "Are you
whole-hearted about this, Senator7 Your sympathy for the
cause of liberty in Mexico doesn't give you any desire to
help the Mexicans drive the French out7"

  "Good heavens, Mr. Lincolnl" Sumner rose from his chair
by the President's desk. "I pride myself on being a practical
politician. Good morning, my dear," looking down, with a
smile that showed splendid teeth, at Tad who had rushed
into the office and seeing his friend had seized his great
white hand with both his small grimy ones.

  "Senator!" shouted Tad, "the old cat just had fou' kittens
in the woodshed and the coachman's dog, Alice, just had
nine puppies in the cow shed. Won't you and Papa day "

  Sumner put an arm around the little boy's shoulders. "I
don't like Alice for a dog's name, Taddie."

  "Don't you?" looking up gravely into the Senator's blue
eyes. "He named it after the song, 'Alice, wine' aft thou,'
because she is always wunning away. Maybe if I asked him
to he'd change the name. What would you like, Senator7"

  "I had a very pleasant little dog once named Mischief,"
suggested Sumner. "She was a brown water spaniel."

HEEL OF ACHILLES z77

 "That's a nice name," declared Tad, "I'll go find Pete Kelley
and we'll have a cwistening."

 Sumner stooped and kissed the eager little fellow. "Thank
you, Taddiel And who's Pete Kelley7"

 "He's my chum. He lives on 13th Street. His fatha's a
wealthy tin man. He twades pots and pans and makes stove
pipes and all things like that. I can't say his name well so I
call him Pete."

 "Perry Kelley," volunteered Lincoln, who sat before his desk
watching the little by-play.

 "That's Petel" nodded Tad. "He and I a' going to make a
stage in the state bedwoom." He gave his father a violent kiss,
rushed across the room and slammed the door after him.

Sumner picked up his tall hat.

 "Do you want me to have Seward send you the papers he
has on the matter, Senator7" asked Lincoln, following him
toward the reception room with a wistful reluctance to let
him go.

 "I prefer to deal only with you on the subject, Mr. Lincoln,"
replied Sumner.

 "Very well," agreed the President, then he added in a low
voice, "Taddie and Bob and Mrs. Lincoln don't complete the
list of your lovers in this house, Charles, without regard to
political bias."

 Sumner paused and his lips twitched as if with pain. "Thank
you, Mr. Lincoln," he muttered, and strode from the room.

 That afternoon, Senator McDougall of California offered
resolutions in the Senate condemning the French invasion of
Mexico and requiring the immediate withdrawal of the
French troops. There was an instant eager rousing of the fire
eaters. But Sumner with a superb short burst of oratory on
the madness of a proposal which would indirectly offer aid
and comfort to the Rebels tabled the resolution almost
before the Senate as a whole knew what was happening.

 Nicolay who had gone up to keep an eye on things for the
President described the episode to the anxious Lincoln. "He's
the noblest Roman of them all, Mr. Lincoln," he concluded.

"Yesl Yesl" replied the President. "I dread to lock horns with
him."

 "Humphl" ejaculated the secretary, lifting a huge roll of war
maps, "he's the only one worthy of your steel, just to mix
figures of speech a bitt"

CHAPTER III

       THE NOBLEST ROMAN OF THEM ALL

~ INCOLN did not at once go on with his work after Nicolay
had left him. He sat thinking over what he confessed was his
cowardly attitude in letting slip opportunity after opportunity
to bring into the open the issue between him and Sumner.
He feebly tried to excuse himself by murmuring that after all
he was like Daniel Webster, who had said so often that he
fought principles and not men. This being true, why not
forget Sumner's charm and look on him as the embodiment
of the danger of disunion; call him to the office and bring
him to book, by Jings, as an enemy to the Unionl

 We-e-ll, perhaps not so harshly as thatl Why not try a little
of this famous diplomacy of which there seemed to be an
oversupply in Washington at present. Let some one else draw
the truth out of Sumna. Hahl That was the ideal He brought
his fist down on his desk and with a grunt of satisfaction
wrote a note to Sumner asking him to come to the Executive
Mansion the following afternoon for tea. He next made a
careful list of names with a memorandum instructing Nicolay
to send an invitation to each for tea at the same time. The
list included Seward, the Secretary of State, with whom
Sumner was quarreling in a dozen matters, "Father" Welles,
Secretary of the Navy, who was irritating Sumner by his
attitude on privateering, and Lord Lyons, whose relationship
with Seward was marked by a courteous endurance that
often disturbed even Seward's suavity and caused the latter
to make the eagle scream a little more frequently than good
taste required. It had the makings, Lincoln thought, of a
party wherein several beehives might be kicked over.

 But when the President wandered into the sitting room at
five o'clock the next afternoon, it was Mrs. Seward and not
the Secretary of State who stood before the fire. Lincoln
liked and admired Mrs. Seward. She was tall and gracious
and a philosopher! One would have to be a philosopher,
Mary said, to have such utter patience with the brilliant and
facileminded Secretary as did his wife. She wore black, as
usual, over a conservative crinoline. Lincoln hated these
abortive petticoats.

 "I gave a woman a job for her trifling husband this
morning," he remarked, as he ranged himself beside Mrs.
Seward, "for no other reason than that she didn't wear
hoops."

 "The first money her husband earns will certainly go for
one," exclaimed Mary, glancing complacently at her own
ballooning skirts. "Does Mr. Welles make your life miserable
for you about your hoops, Mrs. Welles?" rising to greet this
much-loved friend.

Mrs. Welles, whose quiet beauty was Mary's special
admiration, smiled

THE NOBLEST ROMAN OF THEM ALL z79

as she glanced down at the lavender silk flounces that
concealed even the tips of her slippers. "The Secretary of the
Navy is a great martinet everywhere but in his own home."

  "I don't think Mr. Seward knows the difference between a
hoop and a bonnet. You're the crinoline connoisseur of the
Administration, Mr. Lincolnl" said Mrs. Seward.

  "I've a notion to recommend in my next annual message
that they be abolished by act of Congress," declared Lincoln,
looking from one attractive woman to another and sipping his
tea with great enjoyment. "Not casting any reflections on the
delightful nature of this party, as Sumner would say, I'd like
to ask what's happened to it? I gave Nicolay a list of men,
only, who were to be asked here this afternoon. Who bribed
Nicolay?"

  "Mr. Welles feared he couldn't get away so I came to bring
his probable regrets," said Mrs. Welles. "I always use any
excuse to come to one of Mrs. Lincoln's teas. First in the
hope that Mrs. Lincoln will be inspired to mimic some one,
and second because her cook's a genius at tea cakes."

  "Mrs. Welles has spoken for met" agreed Mrs. Seward. "Ah,
here's some one to help balance the crinolines," as Lord
Lyons came in.

  He was a rather heavy man, smooth shaven, with dark,
phlegmatic features, redeemed by very brilliant dark eyes. He
wore a black broadcloth coat over silver grey trousers.
Lincoln, a little disheveled and in his brown office clothes,
shook hands with the Englishman, not entirely unconscious
of the contrast between himself and the minister.

  "This is good of you, my lord. Was Sumner with you this
afternoon, by chance?"

  Lyons moved toward Mary and the tea table. "I've just left
him, sir. He spoke of coming here, very late. I was to tell
Mrs. Lincoln," bowing over her hand, "that he'd promised a
little girl, the granddaughter of Representative Hooper, to
take her for a ride to Rock Creek. And that promise had to
be kept. I hope I've made my answer as meticulous as Mr.
Sumner's explanation to me was."

  "Isn't that just like Charles Sumnerl" exclaimed Mary, as
she poured a cup of tea for the minister.

  "He's infatuated with the child," said Mrs. Seward. "One
can hardly blame him. She's a lovely little thing. She is the
image of her mother, so Mr. Sumner, of course " She
paused and a significant smile went around the room.

  "Queer he's escaped matrimony so long," said Lincoln.
"He's a great hand for the women. I can't reconcile what I
see of him round here with what Sam Hooper told me. He
said that when Sumner was young he was no ladies' man at
all; was just a queer, awkward cockerel, all shank and no
crest, like I was."

  "But, Mr. President, the ladies always have admired Mr.
Sumner, so they must have admired you," said Lyons with a
smile. "I hadn't the privilege of knowing you in your youth,
but I did know Sumner. I was

280 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

a mere boy but I remember that on his first visit to us he
was the sensation of England. Upon my word, I can't recall
a like case. He came to England, a young man in his early
twenties, with one or two unimportant letters of introduction.
He wished to study international law. Within two months of
his arrival he'd become the rage. He must have been
overwhelmed with the invitations he received if he hadn't
been then, as he is now, of such sound mental integrity.
We'd never met an American like him, old or young, so
learned, so ardent, so modest, with such a brilliantly
acquisitive brain. The men discovered him first and then the
laciest Upon my word, I've heard my mother say he could
have had his choice of the best of them. It's a pity that the
years have wrapped him in cold dignity."

 "He told me once," said Mary, "that his family and most of
his friends opposed his taking that trip. I often wonder how
our relations with the British would be faring to-day, if the
friendships made by that unknown young Charles Sumner
weren't alive and vital, a blessed bulwark against complete
misunderstanding."

"Hearl Hearl" cried Lyons.

 "So I tell my husband," sighed Mrs. Seward, "and he agrees
with me and would be so glad to keep friends with dear
Charles. But they just can't see eye to eye on our diplomatic
relations and I'm always looking out the window to behold
the Senator's tall back expressing high dudgeon about
something or otherl"

 "Just now it's privateeringl" chuckled Lincoln. "Sumner
against and Seward for. They've got the Cabinet taking sides
and as usual I've got the thankless job of making a decision."

"I suspect Mr. Sumner of being right," said Mary.

Mrs. Seward sighed again.

 "Mr. Seward and he are too funny together," Mary went
on. "The other day I watched them debating near the
turnstile. Mr. Seward with his necktie under one ear Ah "
interrupting herself, "here is the Senator to defend himself,"
as Sumner burst into the room.

 "A treasures" he exclaimed to the company at large.
"Here's the first three cantos of Henry Longfellow's
translation of Dante's 'Paradiso.' I always thought it dull in
the original, but Henry gives it true fire and poetic spirit. Let
me read you a little of it." Without throwing off his fur-lined
cape, he began:

"Longing already to search in and around the heavenly forest
. . ."

  But his voice was husky and after a page or two he handed
the manuscript to Lincoln. "Go on with it, sir, while I clear
my throat with tea. Rock Creek was damp."

  Lincoln put on his spectacles and moved nearer the lamp.
He read as well as did Sumner although his voice had a less
robust quality than the Senator's. Sumner was greatly stirred
by the lines, kept murmuring comments to Mary Lincoln,
and waved his hands to the cadence of the verse.

"Henry and I always planned to make that translation in
friendly com

THE NOBLEST ROMAN OF THEM ALL z81

petition," he exclaimed as Lincoln came to a pause. "I'm
thankful that he, at least, has been able to fulfill the dream."

 "I've burst into poetry once or twice myself," admitted the
President. "Of the three worst poets in the world I'm at least
two, I reckon. It never would have occurred to me, however,
that you'd had like aspirations."

 "I wished for nothing so much as to devote my life to
letters," confessed Sumner, sinking back in his chair with a
sigh. "I'm never free of a sense of frustrated hopes."

 "And I," exclaimed Mary, "always wanted to be an actress
of the Maggie Mitchell type."

 "You've real talent for acting, Madam President," Lyons
nodded heartily. "As for me, I wished to be a painter, a
Landseer, if you please."

 "Do you still paint? Have you any of your work in this
country7" asked Mrs. Welles.

 "Heaven forbidl to both questions, dear Mrs. Wellesl"
ejaculated the Englishman. "None of my daubs are in
existence."

 "How do you know your mother hasn't got one tucked away
in some obscure bureau drawers" demanded the President.
"Did you ever know a woman not to keep souvenirs of her
son's genius? Now, you take Mrs. Lincoln and our
Bob What is it, James7" as the servant hesitated beside him.

"Masse Secretary Welles jus' can't get here, Massa Lincum,
sah."

 Mrs. Welles rose at once. "He shall not escape the dinner
party at our house to-night, if I have to go for him myself!"
she exclaimed.

 "I think I may as well intrude on the privateering situation,"
said Mrs. Seward. "The Prussian Minister is dining with us
and I must see that Mr. Seward's tie is not under one earl"

 Lord Lyons accompanied the two women from the room.
As Sumner stood alone on the hearth, Lincoln viewed him
with a half sardonic eye. "Lincoln arranges parties," he
thought, "and God disarranges them. I feel like a woman who
knows her hour has comer" He seated himself beside the tea
table and waited for Sumner to speak.

The Senator began the instant James closed the door on
Lord Lyons.

"Mr. Lincoln, will you allow me to be utterly frank with you?"

 The President felt his muscles stiffen. Was Sumner going
to confess and as simply as this7 Life, after all, allows very
few retreats.... Well, better get it over with.

"You're all out of patience with me, eh, Mr. Sumner?" he
asked.

 Sumner looked from Lincoln, disheveled and weary, to
Mary, whose eyes glowed with excitement although she sat
calmly enough before her teapot. His throat worked in an
unwonted manner. There was a wistfulness in Lincoln's blue
grey eyes and a sensitiveness about the thin upper lip that
may have made him loath to strike.

 "My attitude has nothing personal in it, Mr. Lincoln," said
Sumner. "Personally, I have a horror of the task I've imposed
on myself this afternoon. Only the same overwhelming
conviction that swept me into the

282 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

anti-slavery fight years ago could have whipped me into the
position I'm in now with regard to you."

 "Get on with it, Sumnerl I accept your apology," said
Lincoln, drily. He began to run his little ivory paper knife
through his black hair; a sure indication of a moment of
stress with him. "Let's not have any elocution about it."

 "The better element of your own party as well as the same
class of the general public are thoroughly dissatisfied with
you as our Chief Executive, Mr. Lincoln. You are not
enforcing the Emancipation Proclamation as it should and
could be enforced. General Banks in New Orleans and An-
drew Johnson in Tennessee are playing with that vital
promulgation."

"Here it comesl" thought Lincoln.

  Sumner swept on. "You're too fearful of offending
different factions. The Northern Democrats, the border
States, this, that and the other chimerical consideration holds
you back. I agree with the general feeling that while we have
entire faith in your integrity, you're too slow of action for the
present crisis. While you hesitate and your generals
procrastinate, the peace party thrives and at any moment the
war may end with slavery still on our hands. We have no
faith in slavery being forever destroyed under your rule."

  He moistened his lips, glanced at Mary, who sat
motionless, and went on. "Knowing, as many of us do, Mr.
Lincoln, how utterly impersonal and unselfish your attitude
toward the nation is, we ask you to show your patriotism to
the full by " He hesitated, then finished firmly " by re-
signing from the Presidency."

  Mary gave a little scream. Sumner, the great moral leader
of the North, the foremost statesman, the most commanding
figure in the whole political field, had turned thumbs down
on Lincoln, the President. Perhaps some inkling of the
enormity of his request touched Sumner for he was as pale
as death and breathed heavily.

  Long years before, during one of the numerous wrestling
matches by which he had achieved young fame, Lincoln had
received a terrific knee blow in the groin. It had been a
friendly bout. The youth with whom he was contending was
a neighbor of whom the young Lincoln had been very fond.
Yet the blow had been given deliberately. If he lived to be a
thousand, Lincoln never would forget the shock, not only
physical but mental, that this foul had given him. Never since
had he experienced anything that approximated a like
sensation until this moment.

  He felt the room rock about him. He brushed his hand
across his eyes. Then he looked up at Sumner and said
quietly, "You've upset me." Sumner would have spoken but
Lincoln raised his hand for silence and Sumner subsided.
"Before I reply to your request, Mr. Sumner, I'd like to ask
a question or two. You've picked on Hamlin as my successor.
What makes you think Hamlin can handle the South after
the war so that Emancipation won't be a dead letters"

"You've touched on a vital point, Mr. Lincoln," replied
Sumner. "In

THE NOBLEST ROMAN OF THEM ALL 283

choosing Hamlin, we choose a man who recognises that
reconstruction belongs to the Congress and not to the
President."

 Mary started to speak but Lincoln laid his hand on hers
and she subsided, cheeks scarlet, blue eyes blazing.

 "In other words," said the President, "you'd be able to
control reconstruction yourself, Senator7"

 "I'd be permitted to do my share, which I'm not now nor
would be under your regime," very gravely.

 "That is to say," Lincoln suddenly leaped to his feet and
pointed a long finger at the Senator, "that is to say, you think
you're better qualified to handle a bruised and heartbroken
South than I . . . you who've just admitted you've no bowels
of compassion for those who differ from yout And you
actually think that an attempt to thrust civic equality of the
negro down those Southern throats already choked with sobs
is going to insure civic equality to the negro for the future?
Sumner, it's against human nature. I tell you that every
gesture that the Congress will make to confiscate the
plantations for the negro sets back his enjoyment of equality
another ten years."

 "Great Godl" Sumner's arms shot toward the ceiling. His
face was contorted. "Maudlin sympathy with the greatest
crime "

Lincoln interrupted. "Never mind the oratory, Senator."

Sumner, arms still in the air, stared at Lincoln, amazed and
indignant.

 Lincoln drew himself to his full height, dropped the ivory
paper knife into his vest pocket and said very softly and
clearly, "I'm not going to resign."

Sumner slowly lowered his arms and groaned, "God help the
negrol"

  "He willl" Lincoln nodded. "But I intend He shall help him
during the next two years by showing Abraham Lincoln how
to save the Union."

  Sumner picked up the Dante manuscript and thrust it into
the pocket of his cape. Mary and Lincoln watched him,
motionless. The clock on the mantel chimed six. Sumner
bowed.

  "Then, Mr. Lincoln, I will wish you good-by. And you, dear
Mrs. Lincoln, who have been so kind a friend and hostess, I
must say good-by to you also."

  Mary made him a sweeping bow and stood with her nose
in the air, watching him make his very dignified exit. Then
she threw herself into her husband's arms.

"Abra'ml Abra'ml What shall we do to him7"

  Lincoln held her close and patted her back. "Mary, we'll
make him come back to us if we can. In fact there's no if
about it. As I've said before, I've got to have Sumner."

  "What will he do next7" asked Mary, moving away from
Lincoln to look anxiously up into his face. "Will he try
impeachments"

  "Not in the midst of war, I reckon," replied the President.
"That would be too much like stopping to set a rat trap while
the house was burning up. Even Congress must see that.
Well, thank God, that's over. Now I know what I've got to
fight."

CHAPTER IV

               CREATED EQUAL

HORTLY after supper that evening, Billy Stoddard came into
the office and closed the reception room door behind him to
say in a low voice:

 "Mr. Hamlin has just come in with Fred Douglass, sir, and
the other visitors are making it uncomfortable for Douglass.
How about taking him into the secretaries' office?"

"Bring him in here," returned Lincoln.

 With a little smile, Stoddard went out. A moment later
Hamlin entered, followed by a tall, well-built colored man in
the conventional black broadcloth frock suit. Douglass was
handsome in a brooding and tragic way. The story of his
heroic struggle was written in the distrustful curve of his
thin, well-cut mouth and in the unbelief of his dark eyes:
eyes set far apart under quizzical brows and a broad
forehead. His nose was the Indian's rather than the negro's,
well arched, with close nostrils. His high cheek bones and
hollow cheeks gave his whole face the look of austerity that
marks the thinker rather than the fighter. His chin was
concealed by a short black beard and his whole aspect was
rendered doubly striking by the mass of black hair that stood
up like a great halo round his head.

 Lincoln shook hands with him. "I reckon we need no
introduction, Mr. Douglass. You were a long time getting
here."

 "I've been up in Canada, Your Excellency. I was in hopes
that some of the fugitive slaves up there would come back
and help me preach the gospel of freedom. I was much
troubled when I learned I'd been keeping Your Excellency
waiting."

 "I'd rather be called plain Mr. Lincoln, if you please, Mr.
Douglass. Sit down and let's talk. How about the draft bill,
Hamlin? Will it go through before the session ends?"

 "It'll go through to-morrow," answered the Vice President,
sinking into the Cabinet chair next to the one Douglass had
taken, while Lincoln took the rocker and slowly elevated his
feet to the mantel.

"I sweat when I think what enforcing that measure'll mean,"
he mused.

 "Papa day," called Tad, curled up on a sofa with his kitten,
"you womemba what motha said about you' feet?"

 "dings, yesl" exclaimed the President, dropping the
offending members. "Will the bill go through as I last saw it,
Hamlin?"

 "Yes, Mr. Lincoln," replied Hamlin who had twisted about
to glare at Tad.

 "I've been out of touch with the papers," said Douglass.
"Will you tell me if you draw the color line in the bill, Mr.
Vice President?"

CREATED EQUAL z8s

 Hamlin turned back to the fire. "All able-bodied male
citizens between eighteen and forty-five are made subject to
call after July 1, 1863. Drafted persons can furnish a
substitute or pay $300 bounty for exemption!"

 "I don't like the bounty idea," commented Lincoln, "but
Chase is jubilant over it. Says it will be a full meat course to
the Treasury." He turned abruptly to Douglass. "Mr.
Douglass, how do you and your colored friends feel about the
Emancipation Proclamation?"

"That it's thoughtful, cautious and well guarded," answered
Douglass.

 "Come now, that's no answer!" cried Lincoln. "The average
run of colored man thinks nothing of the kind."

 Douglass smiled. "You asked me what I and my friends
thought, sir! Most of my people are enthusiastic, if they are
anything. I was in Boston on January first with that great
mass of people of every color waiting in Tremont Temple to
hear by telegraph whether or not you'd signed the
Proclamation. It was midnight before word came over the
wire, 'It's signed!' People all over the hall began to sob for
joy. It looked for a little while as if we could find no other
way to express our feelings until a colored preacher with a
glorious voice jumped up and began to sing 'Sound the loud
trimbel o'er Egypt's dark sea, Jehovah bath triumphed, His
people are free ' Everybody joined him. It was superb this
report pleases you more, doesn't it, Mr. Lincoln7"

 Lincoln stared at Douglass. This was like no negro he'd
ever known. There was no least trace of servility here. Come
to think of it, this was the first time he'd ever observed the
man beneath the mask of bondage, the first time he'd seen
the negro as he showed himself to his own race, never to the
white. Douglass actually was sneering at himl

 Lincoln found it more stimulating than irritating. He
glanced at Hamlin's anxious face and thought with
amusement that the Vice President would like to give
Douglass an admonitory nudge.

 "I'm going to the wrong barrel for soft soap, eh, Mr.
Douglass?" he said. "You're not grateful to us for the
Proclamation?"

 Douglass' tragic face softened. "There's not a colored man
who knows of you who wouldn't die for you, Mr. Lincoln, but
we wish you weren't so timid. We don't believe you'll really
finally end slavery when it comes to reconstructing the
Union."

"Et tu, Brutel" grunted Lincoln. "What would you have me
do?"

 "Organize colored regiments at once on an exactly equal
status with white regiments. Let us fight for our freedom
ourselves," replied Douglass quickly.

 "Colored men have larger motives for being soldiers than
white men," declared Lincoln grimly, "and should be grateful
for a chance to enlist on any terms."

 Douglass leaned forward, his hands on his knees and spoke
across Hamlin as though he and the President were alone.
"Mr. Lincoln, this war is something the white race has
brought on itself by its own hoggishness. So the negro feels.
And unless you understand clearly how we feel you

z86 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

will never be able to enforce emancipation or handle
reconstruction. It's very hard for us negroes to feel gratitude
toward any but God. As a race we have no more inherent
loyalty to the whites than they have to us. But we're not
fools. We see in this war an opportunity to break our chains
and you can't offer us a task too hard for us to tackle. But
for God's sake, offer us tasks as you'd give them to men and
not to beasts of burden."

 James came in to renew the fire just as Douglass finished
his plea. His black eyes widened as he saw Douglass, and as
he heard his words he dropped the tongs with a clatter that
caused the kitten to spit and Tad to giggle.

 "Tad," said Lincoln, "you go ask your mother for a plate of
those Vermont greenings."

"I'll fetch 'em, Massa Lincum, sah," proffered James with
alacrity.

 The President nodded and looked broodingly into the
flames for a moment before he said, "I've never tried to fool
myself about this war, Mr. Douglass. I know we're working
out in bitter humiliation the sins of two hundred years.
We're drinking the dreadful cup to the dregs. But all this
being acknowledged, I still in my humility must face facts as
facts. And one fact is that white folks up to now have had an
insuperable prejudice against using negroes in the army for
anything but servants. I've no such prejudice myself but I've
felt I must wait until our need for men was so great that
colored soldiers would be welcomed before forming negro
regiments."

 "Surely that time has come now, Mr. Lincolnl" ejaculated
Hamlin. "Our regiments hardly average more than four
hundred men. The country's in despair over its losses."

 "I can't see why you're so sure colored men would enlist,"
said Lincoln, looking not at Hamlin but closely at Douglass.
"All efforts to organize black troops last year proved, if not
actually abortive, at least ineffectual. I'd hoped after the
Edict of Freedom was signed that Fortress Monroe and
Yorktown might be garrisoned by colored troops to free the
whites for weak spots where they're badly needed. But out
of all the colored population down there, General Dix found
only four or five willing to take up arms. They said they'd
work but not fight."

 "They're too close to their old masters down therel"
exclaimed Douglass. "They fear reprisals. Try Massachusetts
negroes."

 "Why don't they come North7" insisted Lincoln. "Why has
the Proc' lamation failed to bring them over the line?"

 "Most of them have never heard of the Proclamation,"
answered Douglass. "The South would see to that."

 "Ah! now we're getting down to the marrow!" exclaimed
the President. "Douglass, how shall we get word to those
people that it's time to come over into Canaan?"

 "More than a word's needed, sir! There must be a promise
that they shall not only be free but shah have equality. If
you'll assure me of that, I'll go down into the Richmond
country myself, even though I'm liable

CREATED EQUAL 287

to be taken as a slave, and spread the tidings. You'll see them
swarm across the Red Sea then."

 "How can I promise any such thingl" ejaculated Lincoln, his
heart sinking at this reiterated shortsightedness with all its
implications. "Who can know the Southern attitude on that
matter better than you? We can free the slaves by winning
this war. We could give them the vote. But you know and I
know that we'd have to exterminate the whites in the South
before we could give the slave the kind of equality you want.
I can't give them that equality. If they are given freedom, and
when they've had education, the right to vote, the rest they'll
have to earn through the generations to come and that you
and I or our children won't see, Douglass."

 The colored man twisted his work-scarred hands together
in a gesture of despair. "Oh, that Sumner or Chase were here
in your place, sirl"

 Lincoln shook his head impatiently. "And you actually
believe that a scratch of my pen, or Sumner's or Chase's at
my desk there, would change your color to the only shade the
white has ever been willing to acknowledge covers his social
equal7 God knows, I want to see the negro eventually enjoy
every civic right and privilege, Douglass, but "

 "'Scuse me, Massa Lincuml" James, almost as black as his
clothes, his round face twitching with excitement, appeared
before Lincoln with a huge plate of apples which turned to
green bronze in the firelight. "'Scuse me but I got to have my
say, sahl An' I'm going to say I ain't one of those riggers
that's always wanting to set at the white man's table. I got my
freedom and Massa Sumner's fixed it so's my chilluns and all
colored chilluns is getting a white schooling right hen' in
Washington. If you'll fix it so's my chilluns when they's grown
kin hev the vote so's to help make the laws they live under,
that's all I want. And what's more, Fred Douglass, his own
self, knows if he went down below the line and gathered
together all the riggers for a thousand miles and tried to lead
'em North, he couldn't lead 'em. Niggers is so jealous among
theyselves they don't want to trust or help out a nigger that's
gone ahead like Fred Douglass. There's Massa Sumner! What
does he know about colored folks7 He's too good to 'em.
You're the one that knows 'em, Massa Lincum. Not Massa
Sumner, or Massa Chase, or, 'souse me, Massa Hamlint"

 He paused and banged the apples down on the scarred oak
Cabinet table, then waved his arm toward the sofa. "You
might better give little mischievous Massa Tad over there the
vote than the riggers the way they are to-day. Those Southern
Massas would make the riggers vote theyselves back into
slavery againl I'm telling you truth. Yassal"

 He crossed to the sofa, lifted the sleeping Tad and the
purring kitten into his arms and disappeared into the private
passage into the living room. No one spoke until Lincoln
broke the silence.

 "What I wanted to propose to you, Mr. Douglass, is this.
Are you willing to organize a group of intelligent colored men
into a company of scouts who will scatter themselves through
the South and tell the slaves what we're trying to do up here
and ask them to come up and help us fights

~S WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

I'll guarantee to make them into soldiers, eventually, if I can
just get the right men to officer them."

"I'll supply you with one white officer now!" exclaimed
Hamlin.

"Who's that, Hamlin7"

 "My son, Captain Cyrus Hamlin. He and a group of his
friends, such as the sons of James Russell Lowell and
Thomas W. Higginson, are tormenting the life out of me to
get you to let them raise colored regiments and go under
fire."

In Hamlin's face was a touching mixture of pride and
sadness.

 Lincoln felt quick tears flush his eyes. These New England
Abolitionistsl Of such stuff were martyrs immemorially
made. All his caution was not proof against this.

 "I'll give you a letter to Stanton to-night to let Cyrus go
ahead. The passing of the draft bill to-morrow is going to
put a different face on the negro soldier question, anyhow."
He took a huge bite out of an apple.

 "Do you mean it?" shouted Hamlin, jumping to his feet. As
Lincoln nodded, Hamlin placed pen and paper before the
President with one sweep of the hand. "Write that order
now, sir, and I'll take it to my boy this minutel How about
your boys, Mr. Douglass7"

"My three sons enlisted last year, Mr. Hamlin," replied
Douglass.

 Lincoln wrote the order and signed his name and smiled
up at Hamlin who seized the paper and departed almost at
a run.

 "You haven't answered my question, Mr. Douglass,"
Lincoln said, when they were alone.

 "I'm afraid our friend James answered for me, sir," replied
Douglass. "I would need a white man identified in their
minds with you to accompany me South, else the slaves
wouldn't believe me."

 Lincoln finished his apple and threw the core into the fire.
"I think I can help you out there," he said finally. "My oldest
son Bob is a levelheaded fellow, almost through his law
course at Harvard. How would it do for him to go along with
your"

 Douglass stared as though he couldn't believe his ears.
"Will your son agree to that, Mr. Lincoln?"

 "If Cyrus Hamlin can do his job, I reckon my son can do
his," answered the President.

 "Then, Mr. Lincoln," exclaimed Douglass, "all I can say is
that all that I have is at your service." He rose as the
President rose and after a moment in which he fought to
control his quivering lips he added, "Sir, Mr. Secretary Chase
has had me eat at his own table. Senator Sumner, John
Brown, Wendell Phillips, have fraternized with me. And yet,
in spite of our topic of conversation to-day, you're the only
man who's ever made me for a moment forget the curse of
my colon"

 "The thing I don't like to remember is that it's we white
men who've made a curse of that color," said Lincoln. "But
be patient with us, Mr. Douglass. We're trying to make it
right with our heart's blood." He shook hands and added,
"You work out a scheme and come to me when

CREATED EQUAL 289

it's finished." He walked with Douglass to the door, came
back and looked at his watch. He must see the waiting folk in
the reception room before reading the dispatches on his desk
and it was now nine o'clock. He rang the bell for Stoddard.

 Although the break with Sumner was now the most
consuming of Lincoln's anxieties, it was impossible for him to
give to it the best of his thought. The public dissatisfaction
with himself and with his generals, particularly with Grant,
pressed upon him with ever-increasing violence and would not
be ignored for a moment, day or night.

 A few days after his momentous five-o'clock tea party, he
asked Nicolay to bring him the week's vintage of aspersions
on Grant's character and ability. Nicolay's solemn face did
not change as he with James' help brought in two great
baskets heaped with telegrams and letters.

 "Here's a part of 'em, sir," he said as they emptied the
baskets on the Cabinet table. "I'll bring more when you're
finished. We've divided them into States. These are all from
Wisconsin, Iowa and Illinois. The newspaper comments aren't
filed as yet."

 Lincoln grunted, took a turn or two around the table with
his hands clasped behind his back, looked out the window,
blurred by rain, and shook his head. "Lord, how I dread to
wade inl I don't want to see the newspapers, George. These
are closer to the people." He seized a handful of letters and
began running rapidly through them. "Looks as if Grant were
about as popular as I am! 'Can't hope to keep confidence of
nation if you permit General Grant to continue his futile
butchery before Vicksburg. Grant, a drunken bum a
common roysterer . . . Iazy . . . Rosecrans the real general "'
He dropped the letters. "Oh, take them away again, Georgel
They give me the hiccoughs."

 Nicolay carefully began to re-stack the letters. Lincoln
watched him, talking half to himself, half to his secretary as
had become his custom under the influence of Nicolay's
understanding and sympathy. "What's the truth about
Grants I'm not going to get myself into another blind road
like I did with McClellan-I never even saw Grant. He has no
personal hold on me. But he fights, though he mostly
loses. Most of 'em don't fight. They argue. I wish I knew
about Grant. I have a feeling that he's the general I almost
think is a fabled giant. George, I'd like to send you out there
to look him over. No, I can't spare you. I'll send Charles
Dana. You know, that old newspaper man who did such a
fine job investigating cotton speculations in the army last year
for Stanton? I'll make my decision as to Grant on Dana's
report on him, plus anything Grant may do in the meantime,
plus my own feelings about him "

 He fell into silence, watching Nicolay pile the letters with
a growing unease. After all, he ought not to put these
messages by with nothing but a grunt.

 "The thing I get most strongly from those messages,
Nicolay, is that the people are in a dangerous state of gloom.
They feel ugly because they feel helpless. They've found their
military leaders and they've found me

290 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

continually failing them. Confidence in man is dead and
suspicion reigns. It's a time when every foul bird comes
abroad and every dirty reptile rises up. The people need a
new sign-post. The only one I can refer them to is the One
above and that's a preacher's job. I'm no preacher, God
knows, but perhaps if I tell them how my own mind runs just
now it would help. I can put it into the proclamation of the
national fast day the Senate has asked for."

  He had forgotten Nicolay. He walked to the windows and
stood staring out blindly at the dim top of the half-finished
Washington monument. Nicolaydropped the packets of
letters and listened eagerly to the muttered fragments that
reached him. After a moment, he took out his pencil and
began to jot them down in his notebook.

  " And insomuch as we know that by his divine law,
nations, like individuals, are subjected to punishments and
chastisements in this world, may we not justly fear that the
awful calamity of civil war which now desolates the land may
be but a punishment inflicted on us for our presumptuous
sins to the needful end of our national reformation as a
whole peoples We have been the recipients of the choicest
bounties of Heaven. We have been preserved these many
years in peace and prosperity. We have grown in numbers,
wealth and power as no other nation ever has grown, but we
have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand
which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and
strengthened us; and we have vainly imagined, in the
deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were
produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own.
Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too
self-suffficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and
preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us:

  "It behooves us then to humble ourselves before the
offended Power, to confess our national sins and pray for
clemency and forgiveness:

  "Now, therefore . . . I do by this my proclamation
designate and set apart Thursday, the 30th day of April,
r863, as a day of national humiliation, fasting and prayer.
And I do hereby request all the people to abstain on that
day from all their secular pursuits and to unite at their
several places of public worship, and their respective homes
to keep the day holy to the Lord and devoted to the humble
discharge of the religious duties proper to that solemn
occasion. All this being done in sincerity and truth, let us
then rest humbly in the hope authorized by divine teaching
that the united cry of the nation will be heard on high and
answered with blessings no less than the pardon of our
national sins, and the restoration of our now divided and
suffering country to its former happy condition of unity and
peace "

  He experienced a peculiar relaxation of the nerves as he
turned from the window to his desk. In uncovering the
sign-post for the people he had once more given to himself
the final justification of the dreadful responsibility he had
assumed.

CHAPTER V

             TL{E RAPPABANNOCK

HE Lincolns missed Charles Sumner. It had been his custom
to drop into the White House daily and to stay frequently
for a meal;

  - breakfast, dinner or supper. His hours were entirely
uncertain. He and Tad were devoted friends and it had not
been unusual for Lincoln or Mary to come upon the huge
Senator in Tad's bedroom, boy and man on the floor intently
reproducing Bull Run with toy soldiers and the contents of
the wood and coal baskets. He had discovered that the
President's most relaxed moments were during the hour
before midnight. He had been apt then to appear at the door
of Lincoln's bedroom, a little apologetic but full of some
problem of state, usually connected with England. The
dearest thing to Sumner, after negro enfranchisement, was
the maintaining of peace with this country which he loved so
well.

All these delightful moments now ceased.

  Lincoln missed him. There was more than deep anxiety in
his dismay over Sumner's dereliction. His affections suffered.
Mary's sorrow was mixed characteristically with exasperation,
but she fully recognized the gravity of the situation and kept
her sharp and witty tongue well under control as far as
making comments outside the family circle was concerned.
She used her husband as usual, as a safety valve.

  "How can you delay so long in doing something," she
urged at breakfast one morning in April, "about " a glance
at Tad, "you know what?"

  "I'm doing something," replied the President. "I've agreed
we'll leave on the sixth on the Carrie Martin. General
Hooker is all ready for us."

  "What do you mean, Abra'm?" signaling to James to bring
her Lincoln's coffee cup.

  "Hoo-wayl" shouted Tad, spilling a spoonful of cornmeal
mush over his new black Eton coat. "That means we'll see
the A'my of the PotomacI"

  "You've been hacking at me to get away from Washington
for a while, Mary," said the President. "What do you say to
four or five days in Virginia with General Hooker7"

  "Just the thing for your" replied his wife with a sniff and
a twinkle. "It will be an exquisite rest for you to listen to
General Hooker's troubles and quarrels, amidst the dogwood
and magnolias of old Virginia, with John Hay at one elbow,
introducing the three thousand officers, each with an ax to
grind, and Nicolay at "

"John Hay's gone to do an errand for me in Florida,"
Lincoln smiled.

  "The principle remains the same," replied Mary, airily.
"However, I'm grateful even for that much. At least I shall
have the ride alone with you to and from the
steamer except for Tad, the coachman, the footman and

29Z WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

the cavalry guard. What I really referred to was Charles
Sumner. Why don't you talk to Representative Hooper
about him?"

  "I don't make a big move there till I see light, Mary. I
reckon my cue for a while is to piece along, a little here, a
hint there," declared the President. "Isn't that a new
fLummydiddle you're wearing7" nodding at the little
lavender silk shoulder cape of many ruffles.

  Mary looked extremely gratified. "Yes, Lizzie Keckley's
introducing them over my shoulders as it werel You really
are becoming quite extraordinary, Abra'ml You've observed
crinolines and capes in a single month. Do you like this7"

  "I dol" thinking how pretty she was with her cheeks flushed
and pleased with himself for his unwonted gallantry. "I like
to see you having what you want after all your years of
pinching and going without. You were as good a wife as any
poor man ever had, my dear," going round the table to kiss
her with the homely sense of comfort that meant Mary to
him.

  Her suggestion with regard to Sam Hooper remained with
him as he ascended the stairs and was still fluttering in the
background of his thoughts when General Butler was
announced later in the morning. Butler, a small bald-headed
man with a large sword ornamenting a magnificent
major-general's uniform, entered with his usual pomposity
and in a voice that could be heard at the Capitol demanded
to be sent back to New Orleans.

  "General," said Lincoln, taking off his spectacles and
running his fingers through his black hair, "I'd like to send
you back there. You're a first-rate executive and you've a big
political following. But until the Woman Order's forgotten
I don't cast uncover you."

  "Seward, again or still, I suppose!" ejaculated Butler. "Why
in the name of God don't you get a statesman instead of a
peanut politician into his job? Sumner's the proper person
to be our Secretary of State. But, of course, you've been so
unwise as to break with Sumner." Suddenly he leaned
confidentially across Lincoln's desk beside which he was
sitting. "Mr. President, I wonder if you realize that there's a
particularly nasty kind of gossip going about concerning
that7"

  Lincoln eyed the General a little wonderingly. Butler was
impetuous and said to be none too scrupulous politically.
But it didn't seem probable that he was an idle tale bearer.

  "I hope you aren't going to make me plug up my ears this
very busy morning, General," he suggested.

  "It's whispered about," blurted Butler, "that you've
forbidden Sumner the house because of his attentions to
Mrs. Lincoln."

  Lincoln could feel his gorge rise. He came to his feet and
glared down at the little military man with extreme distaste.
"I've a good notion to show you out the door with my foot,
Butler, the way I do Tad's pup when he throws up his bone.
Maybe you'd better leave before the notion gets the better
of me."

"I know I'm making a disgusting impression," admitted
Butler, rising

THE RAPPAHANNOCK 293

but not moving toward the door. "But in spite of that, sir, I'm
a gentleman, a gentleman driven to use an extreme remedy
for an extreme case. Some one has got to be willing to risk
his reputation, sir, to save yours. I am that unlucky man, it
seems. But I insist that you allow me to say that you ought
not to allow the break with Sumner to last another hour. I
can mend the breach for you. I have great influence with
Sumner. He and I go arm-in-arm on reconstruction. You
permit Sumner and me to work out the Louisiana problem
together and I'll guarantee that Sumner will appear at the
White House as of old."

  Lincoln stood motionless, struggling for complete
self-control. Political bargaining was common enough and did
not offend him. But no one before had dared use in this way
the outrageous gossip that was embittering Mary's days in
Washington. After a moment he walked slowly to the door,
opened it and stood waiting.

  Butler measured him with a long glance from head to foot,
then moving, Lincoln thought, like a figure on a stage, he
stalked out of the room.

  Secretary Chase passed Butler on the threshold. The two
men bowed but did not speak. Lincoln closed the door, seated
himself on the edge of the Cabinet table and waited for the
Secretary of the Treasury to make known his errand. Chase
stood upright on the hearthrug, his six feet of height as
impressive as though he carried Lincoln's extra four inches;
a handsome man of fifty-five, of pure Anglo-Saxon type.
Lincoln always watched him with a combination of amused
tolerance and admiration. Chase with his petty intrigues and
his vanity, his dignity and his high ideals another of his
enemies, Lincoln told himself but, Oh, what a superb
Secretary of the Treasuryl

  "General Butler isn't happy away from New Orleans, I
fancy," said the Secretary.

  "He's as full of poison gas as a dead dog," was Lincoln's
deliberate comment.

  Chase winced. "He's a very able man. Would do well in
Grant's place but of course, as this war is being run, he's too
able to be put there." Having delivered this shot he drew a
document out of his green bag. "You're not reconciled, I
understand, Mr. Lincoln, to the workings of the legal tender
act of March third."

  "It's too late to be worried about that one. It's the third act
you contemplate pushing through Congress, Mr. Chase, that
I want to get expert Opinion on. I have great confidence in
your ability but I think you ought to have an outside expert's
report that can be used in the newspapers to make people
understand that the acts are a military necessity as well as
sound finance."

  Chase nodded. "Senator Fessenden or Representative
Hooper are the best financial men in Congress. Both have the
confidence of the public."

  "Excellent!" exclaimed Lincoln. "Let's get Hooper at it. He's
a genial fellow, while Fessenden is as bitter as one of his own
wild Maine apples. Tell Hooper to come up here for a talk
with me. And now, give me some

294 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

details about the working of the bounty idea. I'll have
Nicolay bring in some sample protests that we've had from
the West."

 The remainder of the morning the two men spent on the
bounty and its attendant evils. Lincoln worked with the taste
of Butler's nasty proposition still in his mouth. He believed
that even Chase, who was devoted to Sumner and to Butler,
would have sympathized with his sense of insult. But Chase
was the last man in whom he would have cared to confide.
He could not, in fact, see how he could speak of the matter
to any one.

 Late that afternoon, Congressman Hooper called. He was
a Inan of about Lincoln's age, conspicuously well dressed,
wearing a high black satin stock which added to his
smooth-shaven dignity. He had inherited wealth and was a
highly successful importer and banker. The President
listened to his dissertation on the green-back with growing
satisfaction.

 "You put that all into an essay, Mr. Hooper," was his
comment, "and we'll get the Atlantic Monthly to publish it
first, the newspapers later. Do you know anybody else who
understands money and has a mellow gift of gab?"

 Hooper looked thoughtfully at the open window through
which vagrant tidings of young April wandered and after a
moment said, "Try Chittenden, the Register of the Treasury.
He talks and writes delightfully."

 "He's a naturalist, too, of no mean partsI" exclaimed
Lincoln. "I met him through Charles Sumner. He helped
Sumner on the bill taking the duty off ornamental trees and
shrubs. Do you remember that speech of Sumner's ending
with 'Encourage them till Burnham woods do come to D un
s in a n e' ? "

"I remember," replied Hooper. "Sumner knows everything."

 "The knowledge I most envy his possessing right now is his
familiarity with the British," said Lincoln. "My wife calls him
England's Lone Lover."

 Hooper smiled. "The women all admire him. As for me,
he's the best friend I have in the world."

"I wish he were miner" Lincoln's head drooped wearily.

 Hooper walked over to the window and looked at the
magnolias flushing below and returned to stand before the
empty grate beside which the President sat in his rocker.
"I'm in a delicate position, Mr. Lincoln. I'm in Sumner's
confidence but I don't think I breach it when I tell you that
I warned him that a break between him and yourself on
reconstruction policies was a national catastrophe. And for
all that I love and admire him as I do no other human
being, I cannot go as far or as fast as he does in
vindictiveness toward the South. He needs you and you need
him. Mr. Lincoln," in a deeply troubled voice, "can't I be of
service in bringing you together7"

 "I wish you could be," replied Lincoln. "But Sumner wants
to get rid of me, not work with me. He asked me to resign.
Did he tell you that?"

 "Judas Priest, not" exclaimed Hooper. He did not speak
for a moment. Then he said earnestly, "Mr. Lincoln, I hope
you didn't take that as representative of any large group."

THE RAPPAHANNOCK 295

 "Oh, I reckon it's large enough, friend Hooper. You
couldn't put it in a pint measure. Would it be in bad taste to
ask you what Sumner's doing now?" Lincoln in his turn
walked to the window and came back.

 "I've heard him say nothing about your resignation, sir. He
is, of course, frankly much out of patience with you and is
criticizing you freely. That you know." Hooper looked
uncomfortable.

"The question was in bad taste. Let it go," said the President.

 "Did you ever think of Sumner as Secretary of State7" asked
Hooper. "His work as Chairman of the Committee on Foreign
Affairs has given him such diplomatic prestige that I should
think "

 "He'll never bargain with his principles," interrupted
Lincoln. "I don't hope for that. What I do hope is to call him
off his campaign against me as President. As to giving him
Seward's job, I can't dispense with Seward now, Mr. Hooper.
Minister Adams is doing a good chore in England and he and
Seward are good friends. A year or so from now, things won't
be so critical there. But if Sumner will cease to oppose my
Presidency and I'm reelected, I'll be willing to think of him as
Secretary of State then. God knows I'd be glad to loosen his
choke on the Senate!"

Both men smiled.

 "Are you willing to let me toy with that idea for a little
while, Mr. President?" asked the Congressman.

 "Yes, I am," replied Lincoln, "and I'll thank you very much
for any effort whether it's successful or not." He shook hands
with Hooper and went thoughtfully to his room to make
ready for a dinner party Mary had arranged for a visiting
French prince.

 Bob came home the next morning. He had spent a few
hours shopping in New York and presented himself to his
father clad inathe result. Lincoln looked up from his desk to
examine him delightedly. Bob wore a short-coated suit of the
largest plaids his father ever had seen, purple and green being
the dominating tones. A yellow velvet vest. White spats. A
broad-brimmed, flat-crowned hat of ivory white felt.

 "Bob, whereabouts are you going to exhibit your beauty so
it won't cause a riot?" exclaimed his father.

"I'm open to suggestion. Pretty handsome, eh, father?"

 "Beats a summer sunset. I suggest Ford's Theater, if you
can get there without being arrested. At any rate, keep away
from timid horses, young children and ammunition
stores. Sit down, Bob, I've a job for you. Pull your chair up
close."

 He outlined Fred Douglass' scheme which now was well
matured. "You're to go down to Fortress Monroe," he ended,
"and strike out from there. You are to promise the negroes
but two things, freedom and work. The details are your
problem, not mine."

 Bob sat on the edge of his chair, blue eyes blazing. He said
nothing for a moment, then suddenly gave his father a
tremendous bear hug. 'Cohen do I start?"

"To-night, with utmost secrecy. Douglass is coming in this
afternoon

zg6 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

and you must talk with him. You're to be gone not over
three weeks. My one insistence is that I hear from you at
least twice a week. You know how you neglect your mother
on that, Bobl"

 "Yes, sir," replied Bob as meekly as he could manage for
excited joy. "I guess I'll go out and show these clothes while
I can."

He rushed away followed by Lincoln's affectionate smile.

  Mary, faced with the ultimatum in regard to Bob's errand
was, as usual on such occasions, philosophical. She cried a
little, said she didn't want to know details as that would give
her the more to worry about, and then called Bob's attention
to the fact that a youth old enough to be sent by the
President of the United States on an errand of importance
was supposedly old enough not to torment his little brother.

  "I wasn't tormenting him, motherl I beg your pardon,"
protested Bob. "I'm trying to give him a little training. He's
not only pert and spoiled but he has no manners."

  "Is that why he's nearly always shrieking, 'Stop it, Bobbiel'
when you're alone with him?" inquired his mother. "Just
what were you to stop this time?"

  "This time I was to stop covering his mouth with my hand
because he was spitting at mel" replied Bob, virtuously.

Mary threw up both her hands. Lincoln gave a shout of
laughter.

  "Oh, you're all just children!" cried Mary. "No wonder you
men can't end the war. I wish we women folks had the
chance just "

Lincoln flew to his office, leaving Bob half laughing and half
protesting.

  The following day, in a strange April snowstorm, Lincoln,
with Mary and Tad, boarded the little steamer Carrie Martin
to make the promised visit to the Army of the Potomac.

  Try as he would Lincoln could not put on a holiday mood.
Mary herself was depressed. She said the snowstorm meant
bad news.

  "Don't say thatl The attack on Charleston begins to-day,"
protested Lincoln.

"Over your opposition?" exclaimed Mary.

  He nodded and then yielded to Tad's demands that they
go over the boat together. When they came on deck after
examining the engine room, the snow was receding among
the rose-colored hills and lovely green orchards twinkled in
the sunset. Lincoln took the clearing weather as a good
omen but Mary shook her head.

"Snow in April means tears," she sighed.

  She persuaded him to go to bed soon after supper. But the
berth was too short for him and he spent the hours from
midnight to dawn on deck, wrapped in a blanket, dozing and
worrying.

  They reached Acquia Creek soon after breakfast and
made a quick landing, with only a glimpse of placid water
and rolling hills before they were packed into an army
ambulance and whirled toward Army Headquarters at
Falmouth.

Virginia in early spring! Poetry incarnate! Lincoln was in the
saddle

THE RAPPAHANNOCK 297

all day long during the short visit, exploring with General
Hooker and his aides the terrain over which the next battle
with Lee must be fought. Tad, little grey cape flying in the
wind, followed his father hour after hour. The child's
presence among the grim impedimenta of war seemed as
incongruous as the fact that this delicate fairyland of fragrant
woods, budding meadows, and red-plowedfields dotted with
young plants must be given over to carnage. But war, after all,
was incongruous to all that was best and beautiful in life.
General Hooker, to whom Lincoln voiced these thoughts,
agreed with him.

 Hooker's plan of battle seemed excellent to Lincoln. There
were but two weak points, one of which he pointed out to the
General, the other to Mary. Hooker did not plan to throw all
of his 135,000 men into the fight McClellan's old weakness.
Lincoln pointed this out to Hooker and to his officers, not
only in conferences but at the dinner party given to the
President by Hooker the night before the return to
Washington. Lincoln's last word to the assembled company
was "Put all your men inl"

 Of Hooker's other weakness Lincoln said to Mary that night
in their tent, "Hooker's too sure of his own powers. It's the
worst thing about him and will undo him, I'm afraid. I can't
make my orders more positive unless I drive them in with a
club. I've said to him twenty times, 'Beware of rashness!
Beware of rashness! But use all your resources in one great
drive.' I can't say it more clearly, can I?"

 "Any one who doesn't understand your English is a fool,"
replied Mary flatly. "If Hooker fails and puts up the usual
excuse that your orders confused him, I'd cut his head off at
the waistline, instantly. Don't stand round in your stocking
feet, Abratm. This tent floor's as cold as my heart is said to
be. Here are your slippers."

 Us Tad well tucked in7" asked Lincoln, sitting down beside
the candle with the Richmond Examiner, which had been sent
over the river that day by a sardonic Rebel. No news had
come through from Washington and he hoped to find some
here.

 "I wouldn't add Taddie to my burdens, if I were you," said
Mary. "You've tucked the Army of the Potomac to bed. Isn't
that enough7" She kissed him and began to braid her hair.

 Lincoln unfolded the paper and gave a start as the
headlines met his eye. He devoured the items that followed
and then ejaculated, "The expedition to Charleston failedl
They beat off the ironcladsl"

"I told you sol" groaned Mary.

 Lincoln shook his head. "They would do ill I had no more
weight than Taddie." He sat brooding. Queer he couldn't
harden himself to taking the Union reverses coolly. Heaven
knew there'd been enough of them to inure him. Here was
another sleepless night ahead of him unless he put Charleston
out of his mind. He dropped the paper and opened the Bible.
But he couldn't focus his mind on it and shortly laid it aside.

"What are you thinking of, my dear?" asked Mary.

"Of Charles Sumnerl I've tried to forget him, but Jingst I
can't. Seems

z98 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

he was down here with the Committee on the Conduct of
the War last week and every general in the army seized on
the opportunity to tell him how the war could be won were
I out of the way." He gave her a rueful smile.

"Who told you that?" Mary's eyes were snapping.

  "Hooker, when I pressed him pretty hard to-day on putting
all his men in, used it as a sort of hint that I'd better not
interfere too much."

  "I'd hoped we could forget Charles Sumner for a week,"
exclaimed Mary, indignantly.

  "So had I," agreed Lincoln. "But as a matter of fact he's
not been fully out of my thoughts. Hooker's remark didn't
startle me into any sudden recollection of him. He was
therel"

"Abra'm, why don't you do something about Sumner?" urged
Mary.

  "I'm doing all that I can see to do," replied Lincoln. "I've
got the whip hand at one point. I can appoint military
Governors to carry on my kind of reconstruction in the
conquered States and he can't. That's one of my duties as
Commander-in-Chief. I'm steaming ahead on that as fast as
I can as the best way to fight Sumner. I wrote General
Banks the day we came down here to begin to enroll the
loyalists in Louisiana with the idea of having them hold a
fall election. They'll have to form a new constitution and
then elect members to Congress. I expect to have things in
such shape that in another year I'll have Louisiana, Florida,
Tennessee and Missouri functioning again in the Union."

  "Don't you think he could be persuaded to keep up even
an outward appearance of friendship for the sake of public
morales" asked Mary, wistfully.

  "You might try it, through Mrs. Hooper," said Lincoln with
a grin. "Here's a chance for you to use your famous plan I
miffed you so about."

"I tried it long ago and she found it hopeless," sighed Mary.

  The conversation lapsed into a brooding silence on both
their parts that lasted until they had gone to bed.

  They returned to Washington the next night and Lincoln
began at once to work on Stanton to make him send every
possible aid to Hooker, and for days the muddy roads of the
city were blocked with troops.

  On the morning of the Pith of April, Stanton asked the
President to review Burnside's 30,ooo men who were going
down to the Rappahannock from Annapolis. Until noon,
Lincoln stood on the east steps of Willard's Hotel,
bareheaded, as the troops tramped by him through
Fourteenth Street. Many of the soldiers wore sprigs of
dogwood which they tossed at his feet and by the end of the
review he stood knee deep in blossoms which smelled to him
of the fairy woods around Falmouth. The last of the passing
soldiers he could not see for tears.

                 CHAPTER VI
              BOB MAKES A CALL

T TOOKER'S long fight on the Rappahannock, centering on
Chancel~ lorsville, began the last of April, and Lincoln
gathered himself

- ~ together to endure what he called his death sweat.
During that

  eek of dark messages he enjoyed but one brief hour of
respite. Bob returned, tanned and dirty, one night, just as his
father was going to bed. The recital of the boy's experiences
Lincoln found as enjoyable as an evening at the "heater. He
gathered that Douglass had done his part nobly and that
during the month over two thousand slaves had seen Bob
and spoken with him.

  "Not many," said Bob, "when you consider your need for
them, but Douglass says that that two thousand will be
multiplied by fifty as the word spreads. I'm returning to the
job in June. And I'd like to take Edgar Welles along. He'll
be useful."

  Lincoln smiled and nodded. "The enlistment itch cooled for
a while?" he asked, an affectionate arm over the shoulder of
his first born.

  "I haven't had time to think about it," replied Bob. "This is
very important work, fatherl And it's unique in that only your
son will be accepted by the slaves. I wish you could have
seen theml I swear I didn't know whether to laugh or cry."

  "It has its drawbacks in that the public must still look on
you as a cowarc," said the President, watching Bob's face.
The boy had his mother's extreme sensitiveness. "But any one
by the name of Lincoln must get used to being
misunderstood."

  Bob nodded. "I don't mind too much, now that my
conscience is clear " He hesitated and under his tan grew
a little pale. "But that isn't saying I don't mind the things
they say about you, and as for mother " He broke away
from his father and took a turn up and down the room.
"Father, I don't see how I can stand the kind of things
they're saying now. If I could get at the originator of this
latest lie, I'd kill him as I would a skunkl"

  Lincoln paused in drawing on the old red dressing gown
and looked at the boy a little anxiously. "I'd have said you
were located the past few weeks where you couldn't hear
anything, son."

  "I was. But on the boat to-day I received an anonymous
letter saying you'd booted Charles Sumner out of mother's
room." His young voice broke miserably.

  Lincoln suddenly hurled the dressing gown to the floor.
"Now, by the eternal Heavensl" he shouted then paused,
arrested by the look of agonized shame on his son's
face Mary's face tormented, quivering. "dings, Bobl Have
I got to explain to you "

300 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "Explain!" interrupted Bob, tensely. "Don't affront mother
or me with that wordl"

 "Right!" agreed Lincoln. "Except as they cause her pain,
they're beneath notice."

"You don't mean she's been told?" groaned Bob.

 "I don't know. I suppose so. She doesn't tell me these
things any more. Thinks she's protecting me, bless her,"
answered his father. "It's one of the prices we pay for the
passions roused by slavery, Bob."

 But Bob could not be philosophical. "Does Senator
Sumner know what's being said? Is there a break between
you and him, father?"

 "I don't know: to the first question. To the second: sit
down and I'll give an answer in detail," picking up his
dressing gown. He began to describe the last interview with
Sumner, feeling that it was the best way to calm Bob.

 The boy listened with his usual intelligent concentration.
"I heard in Boston," he said when his father had finished,
"that the Boston set was working to get you out and that
Sumner was the leader. But I didn't believe it. Are you
doing anything to offset them, father?"

 "Only a little, here and there. Looks to me as if winning a
few good battles would be the only final quietus I could put
on the situation. If Hooker loses this fight " He sighed and
sank into a dreary review of the battlefield and plans. Every
outline of both was graved on his heart.

 After an uncounted passage of time, he found Bob still
pacing the floor. "Go to bed, dear Bob. You'll be returning
to college in the morning, I suppose."

 "Sometime to-morrow," replied Bob vaguely, as he kissed
his father good-night.

 Lincoln spent the next morning in the War Offfice,
receiving with Secretary Stanton and General-in-Chief
Halleck the telegraphic reports of the fighting around
Chancellorsville. Bob bade the family farewell at breakfast
and started off, ostensibly to take the train for college. But
as a matter of fact, he made a call first which delayed his
journey for an hour.

He went to see Charles Sumner.

  With or without John Hay, he had called on the Senator
many times. Sumner's rooms were filled with choice
engravings and objets d'art that fascinated this small-town
boy who had inherited his mother's taste for fine things. So
outwardly there was nothing unusual, save the early hour,
about this visit.

  Sumner, in a grey velvet dressing gown, was at breakfast
trying to eat and at the same time dispose of the enormous
pile of mail which heaped the empty spaces on the table,
trespassed on the omelette platter, and overflowed to the
floor. He jumped to his feet with his usual cordiality as Bob
came in.

  "Ah, Robertl Not on vacation still? At least, Easter didn't
last so long in my day at Harvard. Will you have some
breakfast?"

"No, thank you, Senator," replied Bob, then blushing to his
own disgust


BOB MAKES A CALL 301

he drew a dirty envelope from his pocket and laid it on the
one Sumner had been reading last. "I I came in to show you
this, sir. It's anonymous."

  "You've placed it on one from the Duke of Argyll," said
Sumner with an amused grimace. But, as he read the missive,
his face changed, his jaw worked, his blue eyes darkened so
angrily that Bob was surprised when he said with entire
urbanity:

  "I suppose it's too much to hope that your mother hasn't
received one of these though I know she's protected from
any letters that come through the usual channels."

  "My father thought it likely that she had received one,"
replied Bob, irritated by the Senator's calm. "You take it
coolly, Mr. Sumnerl It seems to me an unendurable insult to
all of you; mother, father, yourself."

  "It's anonymous, so it must be endured," replied Sumner.
"One hardens to this sort of thing, Robert. Ever since I first
showed admiration for your wonderful mother, she and I
have been made the subject of gossip. It's as well that I've
ceased to call at the Executive Mansion. The occasion for any
such spasm of venom as this has ceased."

  "Senator!" cried Bob. "How can you be so heartless" My
father told me all about it. Doesn't friendship with a man like
him and a lady like my mother mean anything to you? Oh, I
know they're not of the British nobility, but they're the rulers
of a great country and young as I am, sir, and clearly as I see
their gaucheries, I tell you they're wonderful people, both of
themlYou'll not find their like in Washington or New York
or the whole United States for brain and goodness. It's a pity
and a shame for you to try to prevent my father from leading
this country as he knows is bestl"

  Sumner, who had seated himself, listened to Bob's outburst
with a certain sad patience. When the boy stopped for breath
he gathered the letters out of the omelette dish and said
slowly:

  "I don't know how to explain to a youth of nineteen. You're
very young for your years What is it you want me to do,
Robert?"

  "I want you to go on being friends with my parents. To stop
trying to oust Abraham Lincoln from the White House."

  "I must do whatever seems best to me for the negro cause,
Robert," in a troubled voice. "My dear boy, don't look at me
as if you hated mel"

  "I can't hate you, I wish I couldl" groaned Bob. "We all love
you at our house Tad was mourning at breakfast because
you've neglected him."

  Sumner shook his great head and suddenly walked to the
mantel and took down a tiny clock in a crystal globe set on
the back of an exquisitely carved ivory camel. "Take this to
Taddie. He's often asked me for it. And give him my love."

  Bob stood holding the clock, staring at it impatiently. "You
just don't understand human love, do you, Mr. Sumner? A
clock to solace Taddie's unrequited affection" he exclaimed
wonderingly.

  The Senator threw his hands above his head, dropped them,
then with a wide gesture of both arms swept the table before
him clear of dishes

302 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

and letters and buried his face in both hands on the table
cloth. Bob looked wildly from the leonine head with its mass
of chestnut hair to the clock and from the clock to the door.
But before he could make an exit, Sumner lifted a
tear-stained face and said in a voice of the mellow gentle.
nessthat was one of his great gifts:

 "That touched me on the quick, Robert. Let me try to tell
you something of myself I had a twin-sister, Matilda, whom
I loved to my very soul. I helped my mother to nurse her
through a year of consumption. She died in my arms. We
were just twenty-one. That was my first lesson in the futility
of basing one's happiness on a thing as frail as human life.
Five years later, dear little Jane died of typhoid. She was
seventeen tall, dark, an exquisite musician."

 He ruminated for a moment, then went on. "My father was
a harsh man. I did my utmost to bring something of
gentleness and beauty into our home so that, for a boy, I
became peculiarly devoted to my mother, my brothers and
sisters. After Matilda and Jane left me, my dear sister Mary
took their place in my heart. She was ten years younger than
I. She grew to an extraordinary beauty, tall, stately, with a
mind as brilliant and as avid as your mother's, with glorious
chestnut hair wrapped round her head. She was a perfect
companion, so lovely, so accomplished "

 Bob gently slid the little clock back to the mantel and
dropped into the chair beside Sumner. Apparently the
Senator did not follow his action, but when the young man
laid a sunbrowned hand on the table, Sumner placed his own
great white palm over it and clung to it throughout the
remainder of his soliloquy.

 "Mary too consumption seized upon her. I remember the
day we had to cut her beautiful hair. It hurt me to the soul.
She too died in my arms. She was twenty-two. Prescott wrote
me to comfort me and said:

     "'Alasl for love if thou wert all

And nought beyond on earthl '

 "My brother Horace was drowned in 1850 with Margaret
Fuller Ossili. My brother Henry died of typhoid in 185Z.
Brother Albert with his dear wife and child were drowned at
sea in 1856. Only Julia and George and my dear mother
are left me of all that fine household. There's a blight
awaiting every affection that grows within met-I gave my very
soul's soul to another when I was in my twenties. She
wouldn't be my wife. Mrs. Longfellow who was as dear as
a sister to me was burned to death two years ago.-And as if
death couldn't sufficiently blast me, one by one my ideals
have destroyed my friendships."

 There was a long silence except for the infinitesimal ticking
of the little clock. He seemed to be reviewing the sad roster.

 ~ Charles Francis Adams whom I cared for as a brother,
Richard Dana, the Ticknors for years I was a social outcast
in Boston. Men with whom I'd played as a boy, women who
had invited me to their homes, who had entrusted their
children to me, college mates, old teachers, all cast me

BOB MAKES A CALL 303

out because I dared to oppose the institution of slavery. I was
pariah  unclean-and lonely dear God, how lonely I have
been and am. I am a man acquainted with grief in all its
forms, dear Robert. You tell me I don't understand human
love. I answer by repeating to you what William Prescott
wrote me of Mary:

      "'Alas, for love if thou wertall

And nought beyond on earthl "'

 He crumpled the anonymous letter in one huge white fist
and tossed it into the empty grate. Bob did not stir until
Sumner, after a time and with a long sigh, freed his hand and
smiled at him.

"You'll take the little clock to Taddie, won't you, Robert7"

 Bob, with defeat in every line of his face, shook his head
and with suddenly quivering lips rushed from the room. He
was only nineteen.

 That evening, as Lincoln worked in his office at his belated
correspondence, Taddie, inarticulate with temper, stamped
into the room and threw himself on his father with such
vehemence that he knocked the President's arm against the
ink bottle. He was followed by Pete Kelley, a snubnosed,
freckle-faced boy of ten, in a rusty suit of black. His brother
had been killed at Fredericksburg. Lincoln hurriedly scrubbed
the superfluous ink off Tad's velvet Eton suit with his
handkerchief while above Tad's roaring he shouted to the
wealthy tinner's son:

"What's happened, Pete?"

 "That there painter that's going to make your picture has
taken our theater to work inl" shouted Pete in reply.

"So Tad had to go crazy instead of going to his mother about
it?"

 "I tried to get him to go to her but he always runs to you
when he wants something he shouldn't have," explained Perry.

 Lincoln chuckled and placing a hand over Tad's mouth so
as to be heard, said to Nicolay who came in at the moment:

 "See if you can't get Carpenter to use some other room. I
remember Tad's telling me several days ago he and Pete
wanted to use this one."

 "It's the state bed chamber, Mr. Lincoln," explained Nicolay
with what seemed to Lincoln unnecessary vigor, "and the only
space available for the artist's purposes. Brady's men are
developing photographic plates in there and Tad has locked
them in."

"Tad, go unlock that doorl" ordered his father.

"I won'tl" gasped Tad as soon as he was released.

 Lincoln shook his head wearily, "Tad, you do make me a lot
of trouble that you don't need tol"

 Tad looked up into the worn face and with a renewed burst
of tears handed the key to Nicolay.

 "Now, let's go to mother." Lincoln rose and with a boy
clinging to either hand, started for the sitting room.

 "You mustn't say I made you twoublel" sobbed Tad. "It kills
me. Pete, give him the clock. Give it to him so he'll fo'get
I've been bad."

304 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 Very reluctantly, Pete dug into the bulging pocket of his
roundabout and brought forth the ivory camel bearing the
tiny clock. The children were the recipients of so many
extraordinary gifts that the beauty of this particular one
could not surprise the President. But its source did.

 "Look, Maryl" he exclaimed as they entered the sitting
room. "Here's Sumner's clock out of Pete's jacket pocket."

 "'Tisn't Pete's fault," shrilled Tad. "I gave it to him. A man
gave it to me just a little bit ago."

 Mary took the pretty thing unseeingly. "Tad Lincoln, look
at your suit. You'll have a whipping "

 "Nol No, Maryl" interposed Lincoln. "I did that with my
clumsy elbow."

 Mary sniffed sceptically but gave Tad the benefit of the
doubt and turned to the clock. "It stood on the mantel under
the Durer's Erasmus. Did a note come with it, Taddie? For
goodness' sake, wipe his face, Abra'm."

 Before Lincoln could pull out the inky wad in his pocket,
Pete thrust a grimy rag into Tad's hand.

 "Yes," said Tad, "one came and we tossed it in the waste
basket in my woom. Get it, Pete, if the kitten hasn't chewed
it. I think the black kitten's motha' plans to have mo' kittens
in that basket. She likes it. She goes in it and sings and
awanges the scwaps." He blew his nose and stuffed the
handkerchief into his breeches pocket. "Does the clock make
you feel betta', Papa day?"

"Yes, son, I reckon it helps," replied his father.

 "Then come on, Pete, we'll go see what the pitcha' men
say to us now," as his friend placed a crumpled note in
Mary's hand.

 The children departed and Mary and Lincoln deciphered
the familiar scrawl. "Dearest Tad: Time heals all things. I
shall always love you Charles Sumner."

 Husband and wife gazed at each other. "Shall I
acknowledge it?" asked Mary.

 Lincoln shook his head. "You might frighten him off. This
may mean he's repenting." He placed the clock tenderly on
the mantel and stood looking at it. After a moment he
turned to say, "Stonewall Jackson was fatally wounded in the
fighting yesterday."

 "Perhaps since we can't develop good officers of our own,
God intends to help us by removing the Rebel geniuses,"
suggested Mary.

 "Hooker is not throwing in all his men as I told him to,"
Lincoln said, laconically.

 The two exchanged a long troubled look and left each
other, Mary to seek Tad, Lincoln to more torturing hours in
Stanton's office.

 It was nearing midnight when belated dispatches left him
no doubt that Hooker's defeat had been complete. For a
moment, as full realization of the extent of the misfortune
came home to him, he was panic-stricken. He seized his soft
hat, jammed it over his eyes and rushed from the War

BOB MAKES A CALL 30s

Department into Lafayette's Square where, among the trees,
he prayed that he might for a moment be alone. Just to be
alonel

 He brought up under a magnolia tree, muttering, "What
will the country sayl What will it sayl"

 Great magnolia petals showered down on him. He brushed
them aside with a groan. They carried the smell of funeral
wreaths. A banging door roused him. It seemed that solitude
for him was an unattainable commodity. His rush across the
square had brought him near to Seward's house. A tall figure
strode over the porch, down the step, across the lawn, and
under Lincoln's magnolia. Even in the dim starlight this was
unmistakably Charles Sumner.

 The two men clutched each other to keep from falling.
Sumner had been in mad haste and the impact of his two
hundred pounds was tremendous.

 "Lincoln!" ejaculated the Senator. "I tell you I must and
shall know! I will not have your various Cabinet members
refuse to give me the news my own high office entitles me
tol" His voice was trembling with indignation.

 "What news are you after, Senator?" asked Lincoln gently,
one arm over Sumner's shoulders.

 Sumner answered with extraordinary vehemence. "What's
to be done about the cursed project of privateering? Will the
disgusting Charles Wilson be removed as Secretary of
Legation in London? But above all, what of Hooker? For
God's sake, what of Hooker, Lincoln?"

 "Seward can't answer those questions, Senator, because he
doesn't know," replied the President. "Seward's let too much
slip. I have to watch him. As for war news, Stanton has to
censor everything. I get most of my news through Stanton."

 "I've been to Stanton and insisted on getting facts," his
voice rising again, "and he told me to go to the devil."

 "And you've run into mel" with a short laugh. "I'll make a
bargain with you, Sumner. You know that's the devil's
speciality! Looks like I'm the only one that has all the
information you need. I'll give it to you any time, day or
night, without reserve, that you'll come to the White House
and ask me for it." Lincoln's pulse had quickened. It looked
like a heaven-sent moment. He slid his arm down to link it
in Sumner's. He felt the Senator stiffen.

"You're taking an unfair advantage of me, Mr. Lincoln."

 "I reckon I am," agreed Lincoln with a calm he did not feel.
"The devil generally does. Are you really afraid I'll taint you
with my doctrines, Sumner, if you call on me occasionally?
Doesn't it occur to you that it might be your duty to try to
convert me?"

 "It hadn't occurred to me," replied Sumner, slowly, his arm
muscles relaxing.

Lincoln began to lead him toward the lighted north entrance
to the

306 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

White House grounds, talking as he did so of what seemed
to him the least important of Sumner's queries.

 "Charlie Wilson's worst failing appears to be that he sits in
taverns with his feet on the table, saying hard things about
the British and spitting on the floor," he remarked, smiling
to himself.

 "Isn't that sufficient to damn him7" cried Sumner. "Don't
you realize that for every one that judges us Americans by
the perfect manners of Charles Adams, there'll be a
thousand who say we're all Wilsons?"

 "You're absolutely right, of course," agreed Lincoln, lifting
his hat as they passed the sentry at the gate. "What do you
suggest I do to let Wilson down easy7 He's an able
newspaper reporter, remember. And whom shall we put in
his placer"

"Will suggestions from me be killed by Seward7" asked
Sumner.

"No, sir, they'll be used by me," replied Lincoln.

  "Let me think it over until to-morrow," Sumner's voice was
mollified. "And now, what of Hooker7"

  "I mustn't talk of him until we reach my room. Walls have
ears. Stanton's determined the worst shall be held back as
long as possible." They were mounting the private stairs now
and neither spoke again until Lincoln had closed the door
behind them in his bedroom. He turned up the gas. The
huge room with its heavy red hangings and massive
rosewood furniture seemed oppressive. Or perhaps it was
not the furnishings. Perhaps the many hours of travail he'd
spent there gave it an imaginary dankness to Lincoln. His
dressing gown lay across the bed foot, his slippers beneath.
The bed was turned back. A volume of Shakespeare and of
Petroleum Nasby lay on the bedside table with a plate of
cookies and a glass of buttermilk. Mary!

  Sumner had walked directly to the war map fastened
between the two south windows. Lincoln followed and began
a rapid explanation of the day's movements at
Chancellorsville. The Senator listened, breathing hard, but
did not speak until Lincoln stopped. Then he sank into a
chair and groaned, "All is lostl" in a voice of despair.

  "Nol Nol" Lincoln patted him on the shoulder. "What're
those lines from Milton you quoted to me after the second
Bull Runt - 'What though the field be lost7 All is not
lost the unconquerable will '" Lincoln smiled wistfully.

Sumner shook his head. "You don't give the whole of the
thought:

"' the unconquerable will,
 And study of revenge, immortal hate,

And courage never to submit nor yield."'

 "That's a bad line in there," admitted Lincoln. "We'll leave
it to Lyman Trumbull and Ben Wade. By the way, I'd like to
tell you about an experiment I made lately. Sit down."

 He fetched his tooth-brush mug from the stand in the
corner into which he poured half the buttermilk, handing the
glass to Sumner. The Senator

BOB MAKES A CALL 3o7

took it with a nod of thanks and helped himself to the
cookies. Both men munched with enjoyment while the
President told of Bob's recent expedition.

  Sumner listened with absorption, nodding and saying,
"Goodl Goodl" And when Lincoln told of one darky who had
remarked that Massa Abraham was God and Massa Sumner
the Holy Ghost, he laughed but with tears in his eyes.

  It was nearing one o'clock when he rose to go, saying with
that halftender care for his friends which they never forgot
nor could withstand, "Your face is ravished with weariness,
dear Lincoln. Shall I ask James to give you a rubdown as I
pass him in the hall?"

  Lincoln shook his head with a "Thank you," and murmured
to himself as the door closed on Sumner, "I've had something
better than a rubdown."

  But he sat long by the window wondering how far the news
he had given Sumner about the failure of Hooker had gone
to seal the Senator's conviction that he was unfitted to be
Commander-in-Chief.

                CHAPTER VII
                  OBERON

  MARY was very much excited by Lincoln's account of
Sumner's visit \/when he gave it to her the next morning at
breakfast, but the . L ~ . - President could not share her
optimism. A man like Sumner7 obsessed by a crusade, was
not to be guided or controlled by ordinary sentiments, nor
to be estimated by ordinary standards.

 "The more I think about him, the less confidence I have in
my ever getting what I call true friendship from Sumner7" he
told his wife. "I tell you honestly that I'm almost as uneasy
as ever about him. I wish I knew what he and his gang are
up to."

"Don't you expect him to repeat this call?" asked Mary,
anxiously.

 "I expect nothing but the unexpected from Sumner,"
replied the President. "However, I'll go so far as to say that
I don't think he'll come unless absolutely driven to it for
news."

 "I'm going to see if I can't supply a different kind of bait,"
declared Mary

 Several days later, when Lincoln caught a glimpse of
young Mrs. Hooper in the garden, he wondered in passing
if the lovely lady was not Mary's "bait."

 Alice Hooper had come more or less frequently to the
White House receptions but this was her first informal call
and she brought her small daughter with her. Tea was
served in the garden under a young copper beech, the
topmost branches of which touched the windows of the
President's bedroom. Blooming pink rose beds lay to the
south of the beech and green lawn beyond. A slight haze of
gold hung in the air, forerunner of the dust in which the
marching troops would shortly veil the city. In the pauses of
conversation, the women were conscious of a faint sound as
of thunder to the southwest. Hooker was trying to head off
Lee's cavalry from a charge up the Shenandoah Valley.

 Mrs. Hooper, charming in heliotrope silk, explained that
she had called to urge Mary to appear at a raffle which the
wives of army officers were holding to raise money for Clara
Barton's nurses. The two discussed Miss Barton's work in
detail. Little Isabella, long yellow curls falling over a little
pink dimity frock that rippled in so many ruffles over a tiny
crinoline that she looked as if she were wearing a huge
hollyhock, ran up and down the garden paths talking to
herself in some mysterious game of childhood.

 This entirely feminine scene had maintained itself perhaps
five minutes when a shout was heard from the President's
bedroom window.

"Hey! Sissy! Come up head We want you."

Isabella paused and turned a piquant little face upward.

OBERON 309

"I hate to be called Sissyl" she shrilled.

 "TadI" called his mother. "Come down here and be properly
introduced." Then, to Mrs. Hooper, "I don't know whether
he'll come or not. He dislikes girls."

 "No boy of any age really dislikes girls of any age," retorted
Alice Hooper. "I speak I assure you from a vast and varied
experience."

 Both women laughed, but before Alice could continue, an
alarming sound of breaking twigs and rending garments came
from above and to his mother's consternation, Tad slid
rapidly down the trunk of the copper beech. His white linen
suit was stained and hopelessly torn. Not at all embarrassed,
he placed his dirty little hand on his heart and made a pro-
found bow to the dimpling Isabella who had drawn near.

 "We want you for Queen Titania in ou' play," he said. "You
a' just a good size and shape."

"Who's the boy in the window?" demanded Isabella.

"My chum Pete. He made the chawiot for the Queen."

 "I won't play with him but I will with you," declared the
little girl, "because you're pretty."

 "I'm not," roared Tad. "I never was. I won't be. You're just
a di'ty little "

 Mary clapped her hand over her son's mouth before his
favorite epithet emerged. Isabella giggled and danced up and
down.

"Pretty boyl Pretty boyl" she squealed.

"Isabella!" said her mother reprovingly.

 "Aw, come on, Tadl" came Pete's voice from above. "Bring
her along and if she don't stop calling you that, she can't ride
in the chariot."

"Will the chariot really got" inquired Isabella of Tad.

 Mary experimentally removed her hand. Tad replied with
enthusiasm. "It goes like a gun ca'wage with fifty mules licked
by fifty contwabands."

"I'd like to ride in it," exclaimed Isabella.

Tad tossed his head and stood staring at her, obstinately.

"You're as homely as a pig," volunteered Isabella, a little
anxiously.

Tad relaxed and taking the little girl's proffered hand, led her
away.

"Is it safer" asked Isabella's mother.

 "Not usually," replied Tad's mother, with a sigh and rising.
"Especially not now as Tad's tutor is down with typhoid. I
really don't have an easy moment while Tad's awake. Shall we
follow at a respectful distanced"

 Alice gathered up lilac gloves and black lace shawl, touched
her plumed Leghorn hat with a delicate hand, and followed
up the iron stairs to the south portico, thence to the main
hall, where they paused for a few moments' laughing
conversation with Lord Lyons. In the midst of this colloquy a
frightened shriek floated down from above. Both women
gathered up their crinolines and flew up the stairs.

"She isn't killedI" called Tad reassuringly as they burst into
the room.

 Charles Sumner was standing by the bed, holding Isabella
in his great arms. Pete and Tad were restraining Nanny, Tad's
beloved goat, who

310 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

seemed to object seriously to a wreath of artificial flowers
tied over her horns.

 "Nanny is Bottom and Isabella wouldn't let Bottom kiss
he'," shrilled Tad. "If she's going to squawk like that she
can't play with me and that's finall"

 Isabella from her safe haven spoke quite as firmly as Tad.
"If you'll be Bottom, I'll let you kiss me. But I won't not let
no goat kiss me ever."

"Pete, you kiss he', just th'ough the wall, you know," urged
Tad.

 "Not me," declared Pete, his freckled face purpling. "I'd
rather kiss Nanny."

"I wouldn't let you touch mel" cried Isabella.

 "Then I suppose I'll have to," said Tad, grimly. "Come onl
We'll put Nanny back in the stable."

"And about time," said his mother in a voice as grim as her
son's.

 Alice Hooper, who had been standing with lovely eyes
brimming with laughter, now moved toward Sumner. "Put
her down, dear Senatorl And thank you for rescuing her."

 "I was coming up the private staircase in an attempt to see
the President alone. Hence my intrusion," explained Sumner,
setting Isabella down and bowing.

 "But you play with us, Senata'l" cried Tad. "You be Obe'on
since I have to be Bottom."

 Sumner, with the enchanting smile seldom seen save by
children, shook his head. "I can't stay this time, Taddie."

 "Oh, stayl Stay just a little whilel You've been away so
longl" cried the little boy, running to catch Sumner's hand.

 Isabella suddenly climbed to the bed and thence to the
bureau, from which she could throw her arms about Sumner
and kiss him. Pete was handicapped as Nanny's keeper and
could only add his plea vocally. Sumner, his serious face
transfigured with pleasure, gathered both children in his
arms.

"Just fifteen minutes, then."

 Mary smiled at Alice Hooper and they withdrew to the
sitting room, where they settled themselves on a little sofa
from which they could view the hall.

 "How children do love himI" exclaimed Alice. "He and
Isabella are infatuated with each other. I tell him that if she
were fifteen years older and he fifteen years younger, I'd be
his mother-in-law."

 "I suppose he hates to be teased by you, of all people in
the world," mused Mary.

 "Why 'of all people in the world'?" demanded Alice with
a touch of the hauteur for which she was noted.

 "It's perfectly obvious that the blessed goose is infatuated
with you, too," smiled her hostess.

 "Madam!" the younger woman jumped to her feet. Slender,
flushed, beautiful, she swept up and down the room as
though fighting to keep

OBERON 3 1 1

down the temper for which she was noted. She and Mary had
temperamentally much in commonl "Such thoughts should be
beneath you. I don't deserve such suspicions."

  "Desert has very little to do with what people say of one,
I've found," returned Mary, sadly.

  Suddenly pale, Alice Hooper came to pause before Mary.
The arrogance left her manner and she spoke as simply as a
child. "Mrs. Lincoln, is there gossip about Charles Sumner
and me?"

  "Yes, my dear," replied Mary with equal simplicity, "quite
horrid gossip. If it should reach your father-in-law, I fear it
might make trouble between him and Sumner. And as for
your husband "

  "My husband has perfect faith in me, as well he may have,"
interrupted Alice vehemently.

  Mary nodded. "Of courser Yet he may be convinced that
the Senator has been indiscreet in showing his admiration for
you so publicly."

  "It would break my heart to have Charles Sumner hurt,"
exclaimed Alice, adding with a little rueful smile, "I want only
myself to torment him."

  There was a moment's silence during which the children's
treble and the Senator's bass floated in at the door.

  "Dear Mrs. Hooper," Mary rose to lay a gentle hand on the
younger woman's arm, "you're playing with Satan's fires."

  Alice gasped as if she had been struck and drew herself up
quickly. "I think we'll not discuss the matter further, Madam
President! I must fetch Isabella and go home."

  But Mary would not allow the conversation to end on this
note. "You mustn't be angry with me, my dear. I fear gossip.
It has wrecked me socially here in Washington, as you know.
Charming and sought for as you are, its clammy hand can
beslime you also, make a social outcast of you. Gossip has no
respect for place or breeding or wealth. Rather, it prefers
them."

  Still very pale, Alice had recovered her aplomb. "You are
supersensitive for me, dear Mrs. Lincoln. But I'm sure you
mean most kindly. I really must beg to be excused now. It's
my daughter's supper time."

Mary let her go.

  She was standing by the window a little later, thinking over
the interview she had forced, when Lincoln came in with Tad,
both ready for supper.

  "Tad's been describing his afternoon successes to me,
Mary," Lincoln said as they started for the dining room.

  "Isabella's as much fun to play with as Nanny," declared
Tad. "We'll give an honest-to-goodness play soon and he'
motha'll let he' come to wehe'sels. The Senata' said he'd
come to the play if Isabella's motha' would ask him. She said
she wouldn't and the Senata' just picked up his hat and
walked out of my room as if she'd kicked him. Can I go to
Isabella's house, soon, motha'? She's asked me."

31~ WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "I'll see," replied his mother. Then to Lincoln, "Did Mr.
Sumner have his conference with you, Abratm7"

 The President shook his head. "He must have been too
much hurt by the kickl Perhaps he'll come back this
evening."

 But Sumner did not return and Lincoln spent the evening
with Hamlin. Draft enforcement was being met with bitter
hostility throughout the North. Lincoln wanted the Vice
President to go up to Maine and preach the common sense
of this method of raising soldiers. Hamlin, always glad to get
home to his constituents, agreed to do so and proceeded to
draw on the President's vast fund of information for material
to make into "war medicine," as he called it with a dry
Yankee grin.

 Just before leaving he showed Lincoln a letter from his son
Cyrus. Bob had got in touch with the newly made young
Colonel and was sending him a group of negroes to be
trained as recruiting officers. The two fathers nodded at each
other over the letter with mutual pride.

 Lincoln told Mary of Bob's prowess, the next evening.
They were standing in the window of Mary's bedroom,
looking down on the glory of the garden, ablaze now with
lemon lilies.

 "I didn't know Bob had gone back to Fortress Monroel"
exclaimed Mary. "How did that happen?"

 Lincoln cleared his throat. "Well, he wrote me last week
that he'd finished his examinations early by special
arrangement with his professors and was going down without
stopping here."

"Abra'm," ordered Mary, "you let me see that boy's letter!"

  Lincoln took it reluctantly from his pocket. Bob had
written that he was not coming to the White House, "in
order to avoid making Mother go through the ordeal of
saying good-by. It breaks my heart and hers too." Lincoln
had not wanted Mary to see those last sentences.

  But she was very quiet about it. She read the letter and
looked up at him with a pathetic smile. "If the Lord had
planned for ages, He couldn't have found a more adroit way
to punish me for my lack of self-control than in Bob's
constant effort to avoid a scene with me. I must be cool and
calm with that boyl"

  Lincoln patted her cheek. "Don't get too calm and
collected or I won't know youl As it is, you've changed so in
the last year that often I wonder who the strange lady is that
shares my bed and board."

  "Abra'ml" Mary giggled, then gave him a look of
affectionate appraisal. He was wearing a new white linen suit
with a waistcoat of dull ivory silk. The outfit had cost her
many weary hours of conversation and she was proud of it.
"You do look nice! You're going to have more widows than
ever caressing your left hand while your right signs pardons
for their sonsl"

  "Tutl Tutl Mrs. Lincolnl" He gave a shout of laughter and
they descended to supper with Tad sliding down the
banisters ahead of them.

  "What was General Butler raging about in your office
to-day?" asked Mary, midway through the meal.

OBERON 313

  "He yells louda' than old Stanton but he don't swea' any
betta'," volunteered Tad, his mouth full of green peas.

  Lincoln winked at his wife and said before she could
correct the child, "Butler has changed his mind and wants
Grant's job. Guarantees to take Vicksburg in twenty-four
hours after his arrival on the spot."

  "Ask him how soon he could take Richmondl" suggested
Mary. "It looks as if Lee didn't want it. I suppose the way his
army is moving up the Shenandoah he'll be establishing the
Southern capital at Harrisburg before the 4th of July."

  "Don't be sarcastic, my dear," protested Lincoln. "It's too
serious a matter."

  "And do you think I'm not serious?" cried Mary. "Aside
from my own anxiety in the matter, how can I see you
agonize so and not be serious7 But I can't help wondering
with the rest of the public how long you're going to let
General Hooker sit in front of Richmond while General Lee
escapes him into Pennsylvania."

  "Let! Let! Good God, Mary, don't be a fooll" his taut
nerves getting beyond control for an instant. "Do you suppose
I'm not doing all I can to get that army out of the mud, onto
its legs and moving7 You, of all people "

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Abra'ml" contritely from Mary. "Taddie'll
think you're really cross at me. I do try to mind my own
business."

  "As far as that's concerned," Lincoln spoke gently again,
"it's as much your business as mine or any one else's. I'm
worried, not cross. Don't hold it against me, Taddie," with a
smile at the staring child. "Butler is very mad with me. He's
staying with Secretary Chase and I suppose the things they're
saying about me would turn me against myself!"

  "Well, I'm not sure but what Butler ought to have Grant's
place," said Mary. "He's a very able man. I suppose you know
how he's got the Presidential beet"

  Lincoln looked at her musingly but made no comment on
the hero of New Orleans. During the remainder of the meal,
he turned over in his mind the probable extent of Butler's
enmity to him and the possible use that Chase and Sumner
would make of it.

  After supper, he strolled into John Hay's room. The
secretary was dressing for the evening. The bed, the chairs,
the floor were strewn with garments, while the young man in
his shirt sleeves stood before the mirror working over an
enormous white satin tie. Lincoln sat down on the edge of the
bed after sweeping aside a purple lounging robe.

"Where are you going to-night, John7"

  "I'm going to call on Miss Montgomery, sir, a beauteous
damosel from the fair state of my nativity!"

  "Do you mind what damosel you call on, John, just so she
be beauteous?" asked the President.

  "Not at all, dear Tycoonl My affections have been blighted
so often that I'm no longer capable of real feeling about any
of the sex. Have you

314 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

a lady in minds" Snishing the tie to his satisfaction and
turning to Lincoln with his infectious smile.

 The years in the White House had taken some of the red
from the young man's cheeks, had hardened a little the full
curves of his lips. But he still retained the twinkling
brilliancy of the black eyes, with their quizzical lift at the
outer corners. He still showed untainted his buoyant young
enthusiasm for life. Lincoln was always glad to have him
back though he was finding the young man's tact invaluable
in performing political errands and John was more and more
frequently absent from the White House.

 The President returned the smile. "John, how does that
flirtation of yours with pretty Kate Chase progress?"

 The young man shook his head, sadly. "I have no luck with
womenl I really produced inspired verses for that
flinty-hearted damosel and she read them aloud with
derisive giggles to Governor Sprague."

 "Somebody said Charles Sumner was trying to cut Sprague
out over there," suggested Lincoln. "She's a handsome,
ambitious gypsy. Doesn't like me, much."

 "She wants your place for her father," John nodded. "Mr.
Sumner hasn't a chance there. Gossip says his heart is in
another and entirely ineligible quarter. But he and Chase
are very intimate, lately gossip also. If you want me to go
round to Chase's, I'm apt to find Sumner, unless he's at the
Hoopers."

 Lincoln ran his fingers through his hair, clasped his knee
and worked his long body back and forth in thought.

 "I reckon you'll have to go round to Chase's house to-night
and throw a hand-grenade. I want to find out what they're
trying to do to me. You give this message to Sumner if he's
there or confide it to Kate or her father for him if he's not.
Say I'd like to accede to Sumner's request for a negro
department for General Fremont but I just haven't got one
handy. That ought to start General Butler off his seat. He's
been after me for a department for months. He'll sweep
over Sumner like a herd of buffalo when he learns Sumner's
been trying to help Fremont out. In the exchange of
recriminations you may learn where I stand." He returned
John's grin.

 "Yesl YesI" the grin spreading. "Do you desire a report
to-night, sir? After the flood gates are open I Well, outside
of Seward, if Sumner's there, the three most rapid-fire
orators in the western hemisphere'll be gathered at the
Chase residence and I may be late in getting away."

 "You come to me to-night, boy. I'm worried. Butler is
making bad medicine as sure as Lee is headed for
Pennsylvania. Chase is a babe in Butler's hands and so in
only slightly less degree is Sumner."

 Hay fastened a pink rosebud carefully in his button hole,
jerked down his vest, picked up a very tall hat and an
enormous cane, bowed formally to the President, shouted
suddenly, "Raise the portcullist" clucked to an imaginary
horse and was gone.

 "That fellow saves my reason about twice a day," said
Lincoln to the empty air and returned to his desk.

OBERON 315

  Three hours later, John seated himself on the edge of
Lincoln's bed. The pink rosebud was wilted. John's lips were
drawn but his eyes were vivid. The President pointed to the
plate of sandwiches on the bedside table and the two
munched while John talked.

  He found the party, he said, in the garden, back of the
Secretary's house: Chase, Sumner, Butler and the pretty
Kate, sitting close together, clapping mosquitoes, and listening
to one another and the whippoorwills. He delivered the
message to Sumner immediately on his arrival, confidentially,
as among friends.

  Butler roared with surprise and indignation, "What,
Fremont a department while I stand on the doorstep begging
and am denied? What in hell do you mean, Sumner7"

  "I mean," replied Sumner, stiffly, "that Fremont is
notoriously the negro's friend. If giving him a department will
draw out the negro troops rapidly, not only for their own sake
but to offset the danger of a draft rebellion "

  Butler interrupted, "That's not the way to do ill Put me
aboard a ship with a white regiment. Land me at a Southern
port. I'll march North gathering negroes as I come and
arming them with their peculiar weapon, as John Brown
planned. I'll give them the spear their African fathers used.
I'll bring through an army that'll terrorize secession."

  "Your plans needn't keep Fremont from having a
department," said Chase.

  "Fremont with a department means Fremont thrust forward
as dictator by the Abolitionists, eh, Sumner?" exclaimed
Butler. "I suppose that's the latest hope of the Boston sell"

  "Not so," retorted Sumner. "Fremont with a department
means Fremont busy and content, leaving you a free field to
show your mettle."

  "Haven't I shown my mettle?" demanded Butler fiercely,
and he embraced the opportunity immediately to utter a long
address in which he described at great length his
accomplishments at Annapolis, at Fortress Monroe, and at
New Orleans.

  After what seemed to John an endless period, Butler was
interrupted by Secretary Chase who asked point blank if the
General were recommending himself for the Presidency,
adding that more than military and legal ability were essential
in the Executive Mansion in the present crisis  a broad
understanding of finance was required. Followed an address
by Chase on his accomplishments as Secretary of the Treasury
and they were many and impressive.

  Sumner listened to his colleagues, a motionless shadow in
the heavy scented garden. When they had finished, he said,
slowly, "All conversations are idle which do not include the
fact that Mr. Lincoln apparently has no idea of withdrawing
and that, as he himself says, only those generals that win
victories may think of dictatorships."

  "In other words," exclaimed Butler, "Lincoln has an object
in not giving able soldiers commanding positions. He's afraid
of the dictator. Hal I see

316 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

it all nowl Hooker won't head Lee off. You'll see. Lee's
going to be allowed to win another victory."

 Chase took fire at this evidence of Butler's clear vision.
"You're right, Generall What blind fools we've beent This is
dreadful! Preposterousl My friends, if Lee again defeats the
Army of the Potomac, I'll publish our discovery to the world
and the people will demand an impeachment of Lincoln."

 John Hay had dropped into a chair which he had dragged
discreetly back of Kate Chase, but he reminded them of his
presence at this moment by letting slip an indignant snort.

 Kate Chase rose quickly and beckoning to John began to
move toward the house. "You may as well know, Mr. Hay,
that many people can't endure Mr. Lincoln with your gay
insouciance. He's a serious problem to some of us."

 John bowed. "That may well be, Miss Chase, I'm sure," he
murmured and followed her from the garden.

 Lincoln listened to his secretary's lively tale without once
interrupting him. When John finished the story and the
sandwiches together, the President wiped the sweat from his
forehead with the back of his hand and said, with a twisted
smile, "Well, it looks as if any fool could now understand
what they think of me. Contempt has swamped any idea of
secrecy  Seems from most any point of view, John, as if
Hooker ought to lick Lee  John, nobody knows the
strength of the Presidential itch till he's had it "

 "Interpret for me, sirl" urged John. "The talk of
impeachment is idle, of coursel"

 "I'm not at all sure that it's idle," replied the President
slowly. "Any one of those men would like to impeach me. If
I could draw Sumner off, though, he could control the
others."

 John's young face showed a growing astonishment. "Not
really, Mr. Lincolnl Why, I was thinking it half a joker They
haven't a leg to stand on."

 "What difference does that maker" asked the President.
"Sometimes I'm made mighty uneasy with regard to our
national future when I realize how frequently a small
minority is able to block or wreck the efforts of the majority.
And I'm not blinking at the possibility that a majority of the
people want to be rid of me. Sumner may be sitting over
there this minute planning to impeach me."

 "If I thought that was so I'd go over there and and "
John looked at Lincoln in perplexity. "What can one do to
Sumner, sire"

"I don't knowl" exclaimed Lincoln.

 "I do know one thing," said John, "if you'll pardon my
saying it, and that is that you are too patient with Sumner.
He's the kind of a man that a good swift kick has a salutary
effect upon."

 Lincoln suddenly laughed. The picture presented was too
much for his risibilities, anxious as he was, and John went
off to bed, glad to have won the laugh.

The President, after long thought, decided that the most
pressing neces

OBERON 3 17

sity from every point of view was that Hooker should hasten
after Lee. Late as it was, he went into his office and sitting in
his nightshirt wrote a strong letter to Hooker which he ended
with this adjuration:

 "Lee's army and not Richmond is your sure objective point.
If he comes toward the upper Potomac, follow on his flank
and on his inside track, shortening your lines as he lengthens
his. Fight him too when opportunity offers. If he stays where
he is, fret him and fret him."

He sent this off by messenger before going finally to bed.

 Then as the hot June days swung toward July, he awaited
the result of his order with increasing anxiety. And it was
with a painful sort of relief that before a week had passed he
observed the slow line of ambulances beginning to thicken on
Pennsylvania Avenue. Hooker for once was obeying Lincoln
literally and was fretting Lee.

 Lee reached Winchester, Virginia, hungry for the North.
Lincoln, as he pushed through his daily tasks, wondered how
long human nerves could ache as his did before they were
exhausted into numbness. But his taut nerves were revealing
to the people something of Lincoln's granite, at which Mary
rejoiced. He was nervous and impatient. He touched up
Banks again about the fall elections in Louisiana. He wrote
to the committee which had protested violently against the
arrest in Ohio of a wellknown Democrat:

 "Must I shoot a simple-minded soldier boy who deserts
while I must not touch a hair of the wily agitator who
persuades him to deserts"

 He wrote to Andrew Johnson in Tennessee hurrying him
toward the formation of a loyal State Government. He
watched uneasily the taking of Mexico City by the French but
forced Seward in no uncertain terms to keep hands off. He
sent a bitter admonition to the radical and conservative
Unionists who were rending Missouri with their
disagreements:

 "It is very painful to me that you in Missouri cannot or will
not settle your factional quarrels among yourselves. I have
been tormented with it beyond endurance for months on both
sides. Neither side pays the least respect to my appeals to
your reason. I am now compelled to take hold of the case "

 And never for an hour could he forget that narrow grey
line marching with such incomparable resolution up the
Shenandoah Valley. Again and yet again he urged his
generals to make haste.

 "General Hooker: So far as we can make out here the
enemy has Milroy surrounded at Winchester and Tyler at
Martinsburg. If they could hold out a few days could you
help? If the head of Lee's army is at Martinsburg and the tail
of it on the plank road between Fredericksburg and
Chancellorsville, the animal must be very slim somewhere.
Could you not break him7"

 On and on that thin grey lined Could nothing turn it? The
people of Pennsylvania were becoming panic-stricken. Lincoln
responded to the Governor's plea for help by issuing a call
for 1oo,ooo State militia:

"I, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States and
Commander

318 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

in-Chief of the Army and Navy thereof I, Abraham
Lincoln, President of the United States Godl " He
dropped his head into his tired hands in pain too deep for
tears.

 But there was no time for introspection. He could not
pause even to agonizeover Sumner. Another message must
go to the front:

 "Major General Schenk: Get General Milroy from
Winchester to Harper's Ferry, if possible. He will be
gobbled up if he remains, if he is not already past
salvation "

 General-in-Chief Halleck and Hooker quarreled without
cessation. Lincoln tried for several days to soothe both men,
then he put his foot down and wrote in terms of
unmistakable harshness:

 "Major General Hooker: To remove all
misunderstanding, I now place you in the strict military
relation to General Halleck of a commander of one of the
armies to the General-in-Chief of all the armies. I have not
intended differently but as it seems to be differently
understood, I shall direct him to give you orders and you to
obey them "

 Early in the afternoon of June 27th, Lincoln called
Halleck to his office.. He was utterly disgusted with what
seemed to him the puerile and dangerous friction between
the two generals.

 "Halleckl" he began in a high, strident voice utterly unlike
his usual low tones, "I'm ashamed of both you and Hooker.
I've reached the limit "

 The office door which he had ordered to be locked,
suddenly banged open. Charles Sumner, white linen coat
flying, face purple, rushed up to the President's desk.

 "Mr. Lincoln, I've just heard that Lee's army has scooped
up all the free negroes in southern Pennsylvania and sent
them back to Richmond to be sold into slavery. I insist "

 Lincoln jumped up so suddenly that his chair tipped over.
He could not see Sumner for the sudden rage that
overwhelmed him. "Insist7" he shouted. "Who are you to
insist to the President? Insist7 I tell you that I'm so full of
'insists' now that another one will make me puke. Sumner,
get out of this room and stay out till you can come in with
the respect due my office."."

 Lincoln turned his back on the Senator and completed the
interrupted sentence. " the limit of my patience with you.
Undoubtedly Hooker had sent in his resignation only in a fit
of petulance over the orders you've given him about keeping
his men at Harper's Ferry. But the time's passed for
petulance. This thing is too big for petulance. You prepare
an order which I'll sign, accepting Hooker's resignation and
putting General Meade in his place."

 Halleck, with an expression of satisfaction on his pale,
harassed face, hurried from the room. Lincoln turned to
behold Sumner still standing by the Cabinet table. Sumner
cleared his throat but once more the office door was flung
wide and a woman burst into the room; a woman whose
black bonnet had fallen back from her grey hair, whose
black stuff dress

OBERON 319

was heavy with dust, whose bare feet were bursting from
broken gaiters. Stoddard stood hesitating in the doorway.

"She's back again, sir. I've held her away from you two hours."

"It's all right, Billy," said the President. "What is it now,
Madam7"

 The woman leaned over the edge of the desk, her face
working, her eyes half blind with old weeping. "You
remember me, last week, Mr. Lincoln7"

 "Yesl You said you had three sons and a husband in the
army and not a cent from any of their pay. And would I do
something about it. And I did. I ordered part of their pay
garnisheed for you."

 "Yes, sir, you did. And yesterday I learned that my boys are
dead. Two of them of wounds at Chancellorsville and one at
Winchester. Oh, sir  Oh, sir will you let me have my man
back? He's all that's left and he's too old to fight. Older than
you, Mr. Lincoln. Not much good to me but all I have. Save
him for me, sir "

 "Don't cryl Don't cryl" urged Lincoln. "Tears make it hard
for me to think. I'm learning not to be softened by tears."

 He forgot Sumner and Halleck and Meade. Here was
the bloody sweat of war, indeedl He arose to remove himself
from her working, clinging fingers and stared out the
window that ever thickening, never ending line of
ambulances

 After a moment he turned to the woman. "I still have two,"
he said gently, "and you have none. It doesn't seem fair, does
it7 So I'll give you back your husband." He dropped to his
seat again and took up his pen.

 The woman crowded close. She made a peculiar sound,
thought Lincoln, like an old cow bereft of her calf. He wrote
an order to Stanton. The woman looked over his shoulders,
her shaking fingers fixed on his arm, then smoothing his black
hair; as though they two were alone; as though her trouble
was the only trouble; as though the humanness of the thing
she sought and Lincoln gave levered every barrier.

He signed the paper and thrust it into her hand. "There!" he
sighed.

 The woman's face twisted. "God will God will " she could
not finish but rushed out of the door which Stoddard still
anxiously held open. He closed it after her and Lincoln sank
back in his chair.

 Sumner cleared his throat. "Such scenes are very painful.
You have my deep sympathy, Mr. Lincoln. I I fear I
sometimes forget how driven and overworked you are. I
deserved the rebuke. Will you accept my apology, sir?"

 Lincoln looked from the proffered hand to the sincere face
above it. "I'll take it with one understanding, Mr. Sumner," he
said firmly, "that you cease this childish avoidance of me.
Dislike me if you will, impeach me if you must, but don't be
cowardly. I'm not going to bite you or assault you. Your
honor is safe when you're alone with me."

 Sumner, still holding out his fine white hand, said seriously,
"You really think I'm afraid of that7 Well, since you are so
frank I'll say that it's not been fear but decency that's kept
me away. How can I feel as I do toward your policies "

320 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

  "Oh, come, Senator," urged Lincoln, hoping that he was
not betraying the astonishment he felt at the effect of the
drubbing on Sumner, "what you feel about my policies isn't
a patch to what I feel about yours! I sincerely believe that
for the good of the state we ought to put up a front of at
least casual bearing with each other's infirmities."

  "I'm glad to hear you say that," said Sumner. "It is
seriously inconvenient, not to feel free to come to you for
information. But my conscience "

  Lincoln seized his hand with a short laugh. "The New
England conscience is out of place in politics, Mr. Sumner.
What do you hear from John Bright?"

  Sumner's face lightened. He took a letter from his pocket
and the interview ended with the reading of a delightful
message from the great Englishman to the American
President.

               CHAPTER VIII

TElE FATIlEB OF WATERS GOES UNVEXED TO
THE SEA

1HE next morning at breakfast Lincoln asked Tad for a report
on the progress of the play.

  - "He'd better give it very soon," said his mother, before
Tad could rely. "I'm going to keep our family life as near
normal as I can between the heat and General Lee, so you
can prepare to move out to the Soldiers' Home, next week."

 "Then I gotta see Isabella wight awayl" exclaimed Tad,
throwing down his napkin.

 "Finish your breakfast, Taddie," admonished his mother.
"I'm not going to move to-day!" Then turning to her husband
and looking anxiously at his careworn face, "You'll be glad
of the cooler nights out there, Abra'm?"

 "Yes, my dear, to say nothing of being free of poor old
Stantonl" answered Lincoln, heartily.

 He liked the cottage. It was an unpretentious place of the
style made popular by Godoy's Lady's Book a peaked little
house, set with many dormer windows of the Gothic type,
surrounded by trees of enormous beauty. He loved these
trees, and the little dwelling with its meager front hall, its
tiny pallor and bedrooms, was more homelike to him than
all the grandeur of the Executive Mansion.

 But he scarcely had uttered his approval when the
Secretary of War rushed into the room "poor old" Stanton
who had had no let-up day or night since Lee had started his
promenade northward. He was disheveled, had had no
breakfast, but would not accept Mary's invitation to sit
down. He needed the President, at once.

 A stunning collision had taken place the day before
between the head of Lee's column and Meade's left wing,
near Gettysburg in Pennsylvania. A battle had developed
and was continuing with increasing ferocity. Lincoln dropped
his fork, seized Stanton's arm and hurried with him back to
the War Office. He hardly left there for two days.

 It was not a restful spot under the best of circumstances,
for Stanton's irascibility kept every one's nerves on edge.
With the stress of the great battle added to the usual
routine, Stanton was about as easy to get along with, Lincoln
thought, as a swarm of yellow jackets. But here was the best
place in Washington to feel the pulse of the fight. A fairly
accurate detail map of Southern Pennsylvania had been
made hastily for Stanton. A procession of messengers gave
tardy but roughly accurate information of division
movements. Lincoln was now adept in understanding
military formation and phraseology. He set the pins and
moved them, ejaculated, protested, approved, forgot to eat
his meals. It was obvious that one of

fizz WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

the great engagements of the war was in progress. The
thought of its importance, its implications, its possibilities,
were almost beyond calm endurance.

 On the afternoon of July third the dispatches, which had
been hopeful in tone, ceased to arrive. Stanton lay on the
broken springs of the old horsehair sofa, his black beard
drenched with sweat, his eyes sunken with exhaustion, but
still dictating telegrams. General Halleck, unshaven, blue
eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, paced the floor. Lincoln
in his shirt sleeves sat on Stanton's high office stool, his
heels caught in one of the rungs. People came and went.
Senator Ben Wade, short, sturdy, and very warm in his black
alpaca suit, penetrated the fastness to utter a blighting
denunciation of Grant and his protracted siege of Vicksburg.
With all the vindictiveness at his command he demanded
that Grant be dismissed. Lincoln listened with interest.
Wade was one of the Jacobins, one of Sumner's allies, but
Lincoln wanted no quarrel with him. So when Stanton
uttered a preliminary growl, the President said, serenely:

"Senator Wade, you remind me of a story."

 Wade whirled on him, his thick pompadour seeming to
stiffen like a cock's comb. "Yes, that's the way with you, sir,
all story storyl You're the father of every military blunder
that's been made during the war. You're on the road to hell,
sir, with the Government and you're not a mile off, this
minute."

 Lincoln grinned. "Senator, that's just about the distance
from here to the Capitol, isn't it7"

"My GodI" groaned Wade, striding from the room.

  Sumner, in lavender silk trousers and a brown alpaca coat,
passed him in the doorway, looked after him with arched
eyebrows, then entered slowly. "May I know the latest news,
Mr. Secretary7"

  "No news for hours. Up to noon, looked as if we'd held
'em," replied Stanton from beneath the handkerchief he'd
placed over his face. "I'm going to doze for a few moments,
gentlemen."

  Halleck, oblivious to all about him, continued to walk the
floor. He was like a man in a coma.

  Lincoln beckoned the Senator to the map on the east wall.
The sinking rays of the sun cast a livid, wavering light on it.
Lincoln placed his finger on a blue pin.

  "Here's the disposition of our lines at six o'clock this
morning. Meade's been entirely on the defensive. If he can
once turn the enemy and actually take up the offensive, we'll
end the war with this battle, yes, sill"

  Long after the President had returned to his stool, Sumner
studied the map. Then he took up his station on the window
seat, looking down on the White House grounds where Tad
drove little Isabella Hooper up and down in Pete's idea of
a chariot. Stanton snored but roused at dusk to urge
Halleck, still silently pacing the floor, to get some rest.
Halleck, with a sigh, went out. James came in with an
enormous tray of food from Mrs. Lincoln.

THE FATHER OF WATERS 3z3

 The three men ate without appetite, prowling about the
office or strolling into the telegraph operators' room adjacent
to listen eagerly to the chittering of the sterile instruments.
The breathless moments wore away until midnight. Sumner
looked at his watch and had just announced that he was going
home when one of the operators rushed into the room with
a message addressed to Secretary Welles.

"Six P.M. Have just left the field. All is well. Byington."

"Who's Byington7" demanded Stanton.

 No one knew. Lincoln took the message. "I'll just slip over
to 'Father' Welles myself and inquire," all weariness suddenly
vanishing. "I'II bring the information back to you, Mr.
Stantonl"

"I'll come with your" exclaimed Sumner.

 They rushed through the breathless summer darkness to the
Welles' house. The Secretary of the Navy came down the
stairs in his trousers and shirt, his manner as imperturbable
as usual. He paused on the lowest stair to hold the message
toward the gas light. Then he smiled at the two faces turned
so anxiously toward him.

 "Then we can sleep to-nightI" he said. "This news is
undoubtedly authentic. Byington is editor and owner of a
paper in Norwalk, Connecticut. I know and trust him."

 Lincoln gave an enormous sigh and suddenly felt drowned
in weariness. "I shall sleep for the first time in three days," he
said. '~You're a very present help in time of trouble, Mr.
Welles. Come, Sumner, we must go relieve Stanton's anxiety.
We have a reprieve, at least."

 But Sumner insisted that Lincoln go home, leaving the
errand to him. So the two parted, Lincoln crawling up the
stairs to his own room with half-closed eyes and scarcely
aware that Mary helped him to take off his boots.

 No further news came from Gettysburg during the night
nor during the early morning hours. Billy Stoddard and Mary
had engineered a Fourth of July entertainment before the
White House grounds; had planned it to help offset the
dangerous depression that was sure to darken Washington did
news of a Union defeat come from Gettysburg. They made
use of the tremendous troop movement through the city to
stage a spectacular parade with much gay band music. A
speaker's stand was set up just outside the north gates and
Mary devastated the garden and the greenhouses to decorate
it.

 At noon, when Lincoln entered the stand to make his
speech, there still had come no decisive word from Meade.
He was a little aghast at the stupendous size of the audience
packed into Lafayette Square. He did not like to address so
large a crowd without having written out his speech. But such
had been his preoccupation with Gettysburg that he had
forgotten completely this morning's engagement until
Stoddard had come for him, five minutes before the speech
was due.

 The sun was brilliant and dust hung motionless and golden
over the crowd as he crossed the stand to the speaker's table
with its inevitable

-       3z4 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

pitcher of ice water. A band burst into "Hail to the Chiefl" at his ap-
pearance. He leaned against the table moistening his lips. What to say
to that uneasy, unhappy throngl as he stood hesitating, Billy
Stoddard touched his arm. The boy was as white as his linen suit as he
handed the President an open telegram.

 Lincoln read it, felt the world turn black with the revulsion of his
feeling, then turned blindly to the wavering pink sea below. Here in
the dispatch was written his speech and he read it aloud:

 "Lee began a retreat toward the Potomac at three o'clock this
morning. Meade."

 A long sigh swept the square. Then a bandsman brought his sticks
down on the bass drum and the storm was released. The crowds, the
bands, the regiments at rest became an inextricably commingled,
shrieking, huzzaing, weeping, embracing riot.

 Lincoln, unheeded, slipped back to the War Office. He feared the
inertia that would follow the victory and knew that immediate pressure
must be brought on Meade to make him follow Lee and give battle.
And such was the stimulation of his relief that he really believed that
Meade's army might prove to be almost as fluid as Lee'sl

 After the excitement of this memorable "Fourth" was over, Mary,
looking utterly fagged, remarked at the supper table that perhaps now
it would be possible to go out to the Soldiers' Home for a decent
night's sleep. Before Lincoln could reply Tad exclaimed in protest:

"But to-night we give the playl"

 His father and mother looked at him in dismay. A spoonful of ice
cream half way to his mouth, Tad returned the stare and tried to make
them understand.

 "Isabella said she'd come and make he' motha' come. I wanted
Pete's fatha' and motha' but they was going to a funewal. All the help
in this house said they'd come and so did Lo'd Lyons and Mrs. Welles
and a lot of otha' people. I've been asking them all day."

His mother threw up her hands. "Tad, of all the thoughtless "

 "Don't, wifel" interrupted his father. "Taddie, didn't you realize
there'd been a terrible battle and people have been under an awful
strain and it's no time for a child's play7"

 "This isn't a child's play," returned Tad, his lips quivering. "It's
Shakespea's. You' own pet, Papa day, and so "

 "Do you know yet whether or not Mrs. Hooper's coming, Taddie7"
asked his mother, suddenly.

 "That's what Senata' Sumna' asked me," replied Tad. "Yes, she is.
Isabella said she'd make he' because Isabella can't come alone."

 Mary's mobile lips flexed from annoyance to amusement. Her tired
eyes began to snap with excitement.

 "Well, Abra'm, since we've a houseful of guests coming, I think you
and I had better take a hand. James," turning to the servant, "you and

THE FATHER OF WATERS 325

Ben come up to the sitting room right after supper. Tad, you
go see that your theater is all ready for patrons."

Taddie with a whoop of delight ran from the room.

 James at that moment laid a note at Mary's plate. She read
it with a smile. "Alice Hooper wants to know if the children's
invitation is authentic. I'll send a line to her at once, if you'll
loan me Louis."

Lincoln nodded.

 The guests arrived, most of them in an obviously tentative
frame of mind. Baron Gerolt, the Prussian Minister with the
Baroness; Dr. Stone, the family physician; three of the
President's cavalry guard; Pete's little sister Martha in
wonderful pantalettes; Lord Lyons, amused and affable; Job
Cotter, who ran the gingerpop stand near the White House;
lovely Mrs. Welles and a dozen others were seated in the
state guest chamber when Lincoln and Sumner entered the
room. As he identified the silhouettes of most of the guests,
against Tad's candle footlights, the President whispered to
Sumner:

 "We ought to send Tad as minister to England. He can
handle any combinations"

 Sumner, catching sight of Alice Hooper's exquisite profile
in the front row, agreed with an enthusiastic, "Yesl Yesl" and
picking up a chair carried it to an empty space beside her.
Lincoln laughed to himself and slumped into a seat by the
door where a messenger could find him easily.

 If Tad had his father's genius for friendship, he also had his
mother's executive ability. The bedroom furniture had all
been removed except the enormous four-poster bed. From
this, Tad had stripped the bedding and covered the frame
with boards to form a solid platform. The bed curtains
enclosed all save the front where he had hung one of his
mother's gorgeous red Persian shawls. Exits were provided by
using the closet to the right and the door of the one
bathroom the house contained to the left.

 The entertainment was a Shakespeare potpourri; bits
chosen here and there as Tad's understanding and liking
might dictate. As James drew back the shawl for the first
scene, Lincoln heard his wife gasp with surprise and
amusement. Taddie wore one of his mother's Basques of
white velvet which came half way to his knees, a pair of her
white knit silk stockings which more than met the basque, his
own toy sword and belt. He was ridiculously like Booth's
Hamlet which Mary had taken him to see. Ridiculous, yet his
boyish prettiness never was more pronounced than when he
stalked across the stage toward a flag-draped packing case.
Here stood Isabella in one of her mother's night dresses,
caught up by a great blue sash, her hair falling in molten
beauty around her lovely, excited little face.

 "He jests at sea's that neva' felt a wound But soft, what
light through yonda' window tweaks " began Tad, in his
clear treble.

"Oh, Romeol Romeo! " interrupted Isabella.

"Shut up, can't you, till I finish?" demanded Tad.

"If I wait, I'll forget, so I won't not wait," replied Isabella,
emphatically

3z6 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

and with a resolution that reduced Tad to silence while she
finished the four lines.

 "You've spoiled it now. It won't make sense," declared
Tad, folding his arms mournfully over the white velvet tunic.

 "Taddie, don't not be cross with mel" pleaded Isabella.
Then with happy intuition she added, "I'll sing my song while
you remember," and in a voice like a tiny silver thread she
began, "Harkl Hark the lark at heaven's gate sings "

 Tad, still with arms folded a la Booth, recovered himself
under the spell of the song and as the little voice died away
he exclaimed:

"Thine eyes a' lodesta's and thy tongue's sweet a' Mo'
tuneable than latk's to shephe'ds ea' When wheat is gween
and hawtho'ne buds appea'."

 Some one touched Lincoln on the arm and he followed
Stoddard into the hall. "Secretary Welles is in your office,
sir, and says he must see you." Lincoln hurried into the
Cabinet room.

 "Father" Welles was standing before the war map and as
the President joined him, he ostentatiously moved below
Vicksburg the line of blueheaded pins that crossed the
Mississippi.

"Whatl" gasped Lincoln.

 "Yes, Mr. Lincolnl I've just received a dispatch from
Admiral Porter. Vicksburg fell on the Fourth of July."
Welles gave his rare dry laugh and for a moment Lincoln
thought he was going to try a hornpipel

 "Nor" shouted Lincoln. Then words failed him. He stood
staring at the Secretary's smiling face while he let the good
news sink into his blood. "1 swear, Mr. Welles," he brought
out at last, "I don't know what we'd do without Uncle Sam's
web feet. I don't believe you've ever brought me any but
good tidings. And so the Father of Waters goes again
unvexed to the seal" He suddenly enveloped Welles in a
bear hug. "This is greatl Greatl I'll telegraph the news to
Meade, myself," releasing Welles to pick up his hat.

 As the two men crossed the lawn, another angle of the
glorious news struck Lincoln. "What a relief to General
Banks, down there in New Orleansl What a help toward
renovating Louisiana and bringing her home to the familyI"

 Welles gave an enigmatic grunt. "Our friend Sumner won't
find that angle of the event happy."

Y shan't remind him of it," said Lincoln.

"Sumner's no fool, sir," retorted Welles.

 The theatrical performance was over by the time the
President returned to the White House. He caught the first
group of departing guests at the stair head and holding out
his arms to halt them, shouted, "Vicksburg has fallen!" then
hurried through the chorus of rejoicing to his office. Sumner
was there, staring grimly at the gloomy portrait of General
Jackson over the fireplace.

THE FATHER OF WATERS 3z

Lincoln cried his news.

"Yesl Yesl" said Sumner, sadly, "I heard you, a moment ago."

  Lincoln wondered if the implications of the victory were
responsible for this unwonted apathy. He clapped Sumner on
the shoulder. "Whoever controls the Mississippi, controls the
Unionl This makes a young man of me. Come, Senator, the
children didn't produce tragedy, did they? I hated to leave,
I'd rather have missed a performance by Booth than Tad as
Oberon. I'm glad you gave up the role."

  But Sumner only jerked his head impatiently. "I'm glad of
the victory None rejoices more than I do in it. But taken in
connection with your known attitude on reconstruction, I
could have wished it delayed until you had reached a better
attitude. Come, Mr. Lincoln, do this for me Agree that you'll
make no move on reconstructing Louisiana until "

  The President interrupted no use fencing longer. "I've
already ordered Shepley and Banks to get moving on fall
elections down therel" He parted the tails of his evening
broadcloth and sat down on the edge of the table

  Sumner, still standing under General Jackson, turned on
Lincoln furiously "You have no authority for any such action,
sirl When Louisiana seceded, she committed State suicide.
She became a Territory. All local institutions ceased and
Congress automatically assumed jurisdiction over the vacated
territory and only Congress can make a new State there and
admit it to the Union."

  "My idea is," Lincoln said gently, "that if the majority of
the people in Louisiana transferred their obedience to a
foreign power, the loyal minority constitutes the State and
should govern it. I'm merely giving the loyal people a chance
to exercise a function they've never lost."

  "And do you think the vote can change treason to
devotions" demanded Sumner, excitedly. "Can the wedding
veil make a virgin of a harlot?"

  "No, but one harlot in a convent doesn't make common
women of the whole lot," retorted Lincoln. "There are a
good many loyal folks down there."

"Are you looking on the blacks as loyal folksy" asked
Sumner, quickly.

  "My feeling toward the blacks," replied Lincoln carefully,
for here was Sumner's tenderest point, "is that the very
intelligent ones and those that have fought as soldiers should
be given a chance to prove themselves. These should be
given the vote, but by the Southerners, themselves."

"Impossible! Hopelessl" groaned Sumner.

  "Not so," contradicted Lincoln, but still gently. "If the loyal
people of Louisiana, for example, will make a new
constitution, recognizing the Emancipation Proclamation and
while they're at it adopt some practical system by which the
two races can gradually live themselves out of the old
relation into the new it would be entirely feasible. After all,
the power or element of contract may be sufficient for this
probationary period by its very simplicity and flexibility."

  Sumner stared at the President as though he thought him
insane. "You don't know what you're saying, Mr. Lincolnt"

328 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 Lincoln glanced through the door into the reception room
where several people were waiting to see him.

 "Let's go where we can have privacy, Senator," he
suggested and led the way into the sitting room.

 Mary was standing by the table with a book in her hand.
She looked up and said as casually as though their entrance
were expected, "Carlyle's, 'French Revolution,' in French,
than which there could be nothing more amusing."

 Sumner's face softened. "Yes, even in Julyl" He gave no
heed to the chair Lincoln pushed toward him but stood
staring wistfully at Mary. "Your husband and I are arguing
and I'm in no mood to argue. I feel more like what is it
you ladies say7 having a good cry."

 "Don't let me interferel" said Lincoln, glad of this sudden
shift in the Senator's part.

 "Why tears7 Because you've neglected our friendship so
cruelly7" asked Mary, quickly.

 Sumner did not answer this directly. He looked down at
the determined little person in the rose point evening dress
and said, "I've missed you."

 "Well, whose fault is it7" asked Mary in much the same
tone she would have used to Taddie. She seated herself and
the lamplight deepened the tender beauty of her blue eyes.
"I'm not worrying too much. You'll be back, asking a favor
of me. I know men. Helpless creatures!"

 Lincoln rubbed his chin reflectively. Sumner, he reminded
himself, or any other man, was helpless when Mary was in
this archly maternal mood. One felt like melting into tears
and telling more than the facts warranted. She could woo a
catamount to the confessional. The Senator was no excep-
tion. Ignoring the President, he pushed a great stool to a
place directly in front of Mary and seated himself on it.
Mary folded her hands sedately.

 "The Hoopers," began Sumner, opening and closing the
feathered fan he took from Mary, "are very old friends of
mine. I've known the family all my life. Alice was a Mason.
Her mother and my dear twin sister were devoted to each
other. I have almost no intimates left save the Hoopers
and not even them now, for some time ago Alice sent me to
Coventry. I couldn't learn why. To-night, when I seated
myself by her, she made an excuse and joined Mrs. Welles.
When I asked to see her home, she frigidly said, 'Nor' and
when I pressed her for a reason she replied only, 'Ask Mrs.
Lincoln."'

 "Reckon he's forgotten me and secession," thought the
President with a sigh of relief. "I don't envy Mary her job,"
and he made his way back to his work.

 But he gathered that Mary, from her story of the interview
at bedtime that night, was well pleased with her role.

 "Alice shouldn't have left such a thankless task to me," she
told Sumner when he made his plaint. "It wasn't kind of her.
But after all, it's not kindliness in Alice Hooper that
fascinates one."

"Kindliness7" repeated Sumner. "I suppose she has the
normal amount

THE FATHER OF WATERS 3zg

of that commodity. I've evidently offended her seriously.
What have I done, Mrs. Lincoln? Do you know7"

  "Yes, dear Charles Sumner," very gently. "I know. You've
shown the fashionable world of Washington too clearly that
its most fashionable belle fascinates you. After all, she is
married and so there's been horrid gossip about you both."

  Sumner sat perfectly still, his blue eyes fastened on Mary
in growing consternation. "I've caused people to gossip about
Alice Mason? I, who would not let a harsh breeze stir a hair
of her head?"

  Mary smiled. "You know as well as I that there's been a
horrid mess of talk about you and me, Senator. Rightly
enough, you've been philosophical about it. Where's your
philosophy regarding Mrs. Hooper in like case7"

"But Alice is " protested Sumner and paused.

  "Alice is " mimicked Mary, then went on earnestly. "Wait
a moment, I'll read you what Alice is from the Intelligence of
yesterday. It gives an account of Mrs. Eames' benefit for the
Sanitary Commission." She turned the pages of the sheet,
Sumner watching her somberly. "'Mrs. Sturgis Hooper was
there with her beauty, grace, slender and stately form, her
high bred manners and her aristocratic reserve.' The
aristocratic reserve," commented Mary, laying down the
paper, "is a little gratuitous. I've seen her when she showed
the bad temper of a spoiled child."

  But Sumner was not to be drawn into a discussion of Alice
Hooper's character.

"But, Mrs. Lincoln," he asked, "why didn't Alice tell me this
herself7"

  "Because I think she couldn't bear to hurt you. I think she
cares too much for you."

  Sumner's great head sank to his breast and when after a
pause he looked up, his face was drawn as though by a long
illness. "There's a curse on my affection for women," he said.
"Well that's endedl You've been a good friend to me in this,
as in many other ways, dear Mrs. Lincoln." He rose.
"I'm I'm not quite myself. This has been a greater blow than
you know. Ah," clenching a great white fist and allowing it to
fall upon the table, "she is lovely lovely "

  "Memories are one of life's great compensations," said
Mary. "Memories particularly of what never was and could
not be. All our poets know that 'Heard melodies are sweet,
but those unheard are sweeter' - 'The spirit ditties of no tune'
- 'She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss' - " she
paused and sat with brooding eyes on the empty fireplace.

  "You have a great gift for sympathy!" ejaculated Sumner. "I
shall come back to you often, often. I haven't the resiliency
of twenty-five years ago " He bowed over Mary's hand and
went out.

  Lincoln, listening to Mary's account of this, made as she
brushed her gorgeous chestnut hair before his mirror, bit his
thumb and sighed, "Poor fellowl Poor Charlesl Mary, you
really feel sympathy for him7 Your little intrigue isn't all
intriguer"

Mary paused with the brush posed. "I'm devoted to Charles
Sumner.

No WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

Even were nothing else involved, I'd have wanted to give
him this warning. But" shaking the brush at him
earnestly "I'd stoop to any intrigue known or unknown to
help you. And there's no use in your looking sanctimonious,
young manl"

 As there seemed nothing to be said in response to this,
Lincoln suddenly kissed her and turned to another subject.

 "I have a feeling that Meade is going to sit down and
nurse his wounds in spite of all my urging. Lord, send me
a general with legal"

                CHAPTER IX
                POOR NANNY

FTER all, Lincoln went out to the Soldiers' Home alone.
Taddie had a sharp attack of ague late in July and little
Isabella Hooper ~ ~ wilted in the terrific heat of
Washington. Dr. Stone ordered both children away. The
Hoopers departed for their summer place on the
Massachusetts shore and Mary left her husband reluctantly
and took Tad to the White Mountains. Sumner started on a
lecture trip without appearing again at the White House.
Lincoln was glad to see him go.

 There was no wooing Sumner by any method he had thus
far discovered. One might as well, thought Lincoln, coo to
Bunker Hill monument! He was pleased to be left with a few
months before him clear of Sumner and Congress in which
to speed forward reconstruction in Louisiana and Tennessee.
If he was to have only the one term in office, it behooved
him not to waste an hour, a moment, in doing all that he
could to commit the Government to his own peculiar plans.
The need for haste became an obsession with him; an
unceasing urge that chafed him day and night. He began a
campaign of letter and dispatch writing, in an attempt to
inspire Governor Shepley and General Banks in Louisiana
and Governor Johnson and General Rosecrans in Tennessee
with his own conception of speedy action.

 The month of August remained long in his memory as a
not unhumorous combination of chills and fever which
afflicted his own body and mental chills and fevers which
affected the mental processes of the men whom he sought
to use for the great cause. Recrimination and indifference,
feverish preparations and tardy performances. Rosecrans,
slow and querulous. Burnside tardy in crossing from Ohio to
Rosecrans' aid and between them the battle of Chickamauga
lost. Banks and Shepley snarling over the question of
authority only Andrew Johnson, among them all, showing
marked ability. And most heart-twisting of all, Meade losing
Lee and settling down, apparently for life, on the Rapidan.

 After a few weeks of this Lincoln wrote to Mary and asked
how soon she thought it would be safe to bring Tad back to
Washington. He was homesick for them. With this same
letter he wrote one to Tad telling him news calculated to
revive the boy's interest in home affairs. Poor Nanny goat
had disappeared. She had been found by the gardener
chewing up his pet flower bed and had been dealt with so
harshly by him that she had retired to Tad's bedroom. The
chamber-maid had found her Iying on Tad's bed, chewing
her little cud. The chamber-maid, too, had been harsh and
Nanny had run away. Perhaps her wounded feelings had
driven her

33Z WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

to extreme ends such as joining the Army of the Potomac.
Perhaps she would return when Taddie did.

 The letters had the desired effect. Within a week after
they were written Mary and Tad appeared at the White
House with many trunks, with a cage containing a skunk, a
turtle and a hoot owl, and with the flurry of domestic
excitement that Lincoln loved because it meant Mary and
Tad.

 An hour after her arrival, Mary had completed an
examination into the President's ways of eating and sleeping
during her absence and repaired to his office with her
report. He was a disgrace, she declared, to any wife.

"Nol Nol Don't break my old heart like thatl" he protested
with a grin.

 "But you arel Even your giant strength can't stand up
under Washington, the war and politics, plus your idiotic
habits. James says you have attacks of heartburn. I'm going
to put a box of saleratus and a teaspoon here on your desk.
See that you use it. You haven't been eating enough and
you're as thin as a bodkin. Oh, my dear, my dear, you do
upset me sol Now, drink this glass of buttermilk and come
with me for a ride."

"Where's Tad?" asked Lincoln after he had drained the glass
with relish.

 "He and Pete have organized a hunt for Nanny. I'm going
to order the carriage right now. The horses are positively
dying for exercise. Put that letter down and come, my dear
husband," laying a tender hand on his.

 He rose with alacrity and offered her his arm which Mary
took with a sweeping curtsy and a little giggle.

 Physically the ride was not particularly pleasant.
September was very hot and very dry and Washington was
playing host to a pest of flies unprecedented in any one's
experience. People said that the proximity of many
battlefields and the great number of hospitals in and around
the city were the cause. However that might be, no means
availed against the dreadful, buzzing, biting swarms that
made waking hours a burden and sleeping almost
impossible. They settled by the hundreds on the carriage.
Mary's veil was a partial protection to her. But Lincoln, the
coachman, and the footman were in misery while the horses
almost kicked out of the traces in their irritation. In spite of
this, Lincoln was glad to get away from his work; glad to see
something beyond Lafayette Square; glad to be with his wife
again.

 "Tell me about the skunk," asked Lincoln after they were
well started. "Is he to be a bedroom pet, also7"

 "Good heavens, nol Tad promises to keep him in the
stable. For a long time I held out against bringing him home
but Tad was so heartbroken about Nanny that I gave in. He
bought the beast from a farmer boy up in Vermont, or
rather traded for it."

"What did he swap?" asked Lincoln.

 Mary's eyes twinkled. "That I didn't discover till we
reached here. He gave the boy a photograph of yourself."

 "Nol Jingsl Ohl Ohl Couldn't be better!" Lincoln's laughter
caused a cow grazing pensively by the roadside to break her
tether rope.

"What's he named it?" he gasped when he could.

POOR NANNY 333

  "Louis Napoleonl The turtle is McClellan and the hoot owl
is General Halleck."

  "Better not let M. Mercier hear the first," laughed the
President. "Tad's the joy of my heart. We must get him
another goat."

  "He says he doesn't want it. Nanny was his only love. He's
written to all his friends telling of his loss. To Stanton, among
others, who curiously enough sent him a wonderful formal
letter of sympathy, and to Charles Sumner, from whom he
has not heard. But that's not strange. Sumner wrote me from
Boston that his brother George is dying in a hospital there.
Poor Charlesl He'll be the last brother left out of fivel"

  "That's hard newel" exclaimed Lincoln. "I'd like to write
him a letter of sympathy. But if I do, he'll think I'm
soft-soaping him."

  Mary considered this for a few moments. "Perhaps you're
right about it. You usually are in such things. Have you heard
that he's joined in a quiet boom of Chase for the
Presidency?" Lincoln nodded and she went on, "And have you
heard that Butler is talked of as the Democratic nominees
You ought to get rid of Butler by putting him in your
Cabinet."

  Lincoln smiled. "What a crazy quilt you'd make of my poor
Cabinet if I gave you your wayl Who next7"

"Sumner next as Secretary of State," replied Mary promptly.

  "Sam Hooper's idea, too," said Lincoln. "Another one of
those blind boils you can neither cure nor bring to a head.
I'm going to use Butler's executive ability by putting him in
charge of the Department of Virginia and North Carolina
and then pray to God he won't hamstring Meade. Now let me
tell you about the good work Bob is doing in bringing his
dark children up out of Egypt."

  Somehow, in spite of dust and flies, it was a most refreshing
drive. Yes, it was good to have Mary back.

  With his wife's return and the arrival of cooler weather,
Lincoln's wonted intellectual energy revived. This was well,
for the annual message must be prepared and he must bring
to this work a brain that functioned freed of the fog of
weariness, for in it he proposed to take his stand, foursquare,
on his own method of reconstruction. And he proposed in it
also to hush for all time the complaint of Sumner and his
radical followers that the President was only half-hearted in
his efforts to enforce the Emancipation Proclamation; that he
did not strenuously desire to free the slaves; that he was
willing to make a peace with the South on slavery terms. It
was a difficult paper to prepare not only as a state document
but as a matter of literary composition to make it lucid, to
make it final, to make it beautiful.

  The varying fortunes of Grant's campaign in the West with
the thousand pressing details of his position as Chief
Executive kept his office in a turmoil and he found it
impossible to write there. He formed the habit of stealing
away to his bedroom just before supper. Here he would seat
himself before a window, feet on the sill, rest his long
telescope on his toes and gaze at the Virginia hills.
Something in this mild occupation re

334 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

leased his mind from other perplexities and allowed it to
clamp completely on the problem at hand.

  Frequently he sat with meditative eye at the end of the
telescope long after dusk had settled, blotting out first the
red hills, then, in sequence, Long Bridge, the unfinished
shaft of Washington Monument, the marshes, the Mall, his
own garden. His mind was refined to an etcher's point as he
traced the delicate subtleties of his task.

  Tad, the free lance, alone had power to rouse him from
his absorption in this work and Mary used the little boy as
messenger to summon his father to the evening meal. Tad
was still mourning for poor Nanny. He came in one evening
at dusk and taking the telescope from his father's unresisting
hands applied his own eye to it.

"Maybe Nanny did join the A'my of the Potomac," he
murmured.

  Immediately Lincoln roused himself. "Poor Nannyl You
won't let me buy you another nice she goat, Tad7"

  "Nor" from lips that quivered. "Nanny was hand-twained.
She wasn't just a plain she goat, Papa day. She was educated
as much mo' than wegular goats as a West Pointa' is than a
wegular pwivate. I'm getting so old now I don't feel like I
could begin educating anotha' goat."

  Lincoln kissed him. "What can I do to ease your
heartache, darling Tad?"

  "Take me to supper!" Tad wheedled and hand in hand the
two descended to the dining room.

  "Somebody's got to do something," Lincoln declared to his
wife that evening. "Tad's mourning for poor Nanny would
draw tears from an army sutler. What do you say we try to
locate a she goat that will look like Nanny and, we'll hope,
will have better manners? And just thrust it on him?"

"It might work," agreed Mary. "I'll see what James can do."

  But James' efforts were forestalled. A day or so after
Lincoln had made his suggestion, Tad rushed into his
father's office..

  "Come quick and see what Senata' Sumna' has given mel"
he shouted, ignoring Halleck and Stanton who were seated
with the President.

"Is Mr. Sumner here?" asked Lincoln.

"Yesl In my wooml Come onl All of you come," Tad added
hospitably.

  Stanton shook his head irritably. Halleck did not trouble
to answer. Lincoln rose. He always felt a little offended
when Tad was slighted. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I'll
report on that matter in person at the War Office a little
later." And he allowed Tad to lead him out.

  Lincoln paused in the door of the child's bedroom. Two
baby she goats, each a tiny replica of poor dear Nanny, were
horning each other vigorously on the hearth rug. Senator
Sumner, in deep black, held their lead ropes.

  "They a' Boston goatsl" cried Tad. "I'm going to name one
Beans and the otha' - " He hesitated.

"Cod," suggested his father, crossing the room with hand
extended to

                POOR NANNY 335
Sumner. "This is like your kindness, Senatorl How can we
help loving your"

"Don't tryl" heartily from Sumner.

 He looked worn and very sad, Lincoln thought. "What's the
news from our Boston friends," he asked, aloud. "How is Sam
Hooper and Mrs. Hooper " He paused, conscious that he
had been tactless.

 But Sumner was cool enough. "I saw Sam, yesterday, but
I've not seen Mrs. Hooper or little Isabella since July."

 "I heard from General Banks not an hour ago that there
was a great deal of sickness on his staff and that Captain
Hooper was among those afflicted," said the President. No
use trying to be tactful. Sam Hooper was his own friend as
well as Sumner's. Not but what it was a queer situation.
Perhaps he'd better try to make it sound a little less pointed.
"I've got a couple of neighbor boys down there in New
Orleans and their folks got me to ask particularly for them.
That's how the matter came up. I wonder if Sam Hooper
knows?"

 "He didn't mention it to me," replied Sumner, slowly. "Is
Captain Hooper very ill7"

 "Stanton is getting me a report on him, with the other boys,"
replied Lincoln. "Will you go over to the War Office with me
while I get it? If things go wrong, you'd be the one to break
the news to Sam. I'll try to head off the regular death notice
going to him. Would you prefer to have me bring word back
here7"

 "I'll wait here with Taddie, if you don't mind, Mr. Lincoln,"
replied Sumner.

 The President nodded and went out. His feelings, as he
made his way to the War Office, were difficult to analyze.
There was typhoid down there on Banks' staff. Sturgis
Hooper and the neighbors' sons had little chance of recovery.
If young Hooper died well, it was like the most of life. One
man's loss was another man's gain. Sort of indecent, his own
hasty exit to get news for Sumner. When he reached the War
Office, he found that Stanton had received the delayed
telegram from New Orleans. Sturgis Hooper was dead and so
were the two other young officers. Lincoln took the yellow
slip from the operator and without waiting to check over the
entire list with Stanton, he hurried back to the White House.
What a situation! Shakespeare should have had it to play with
or Charles Dickensl Sumner still stood quietly on the hearth
rug watching Tad with his new pets. Without a word Lincoln
handed the Senator the death list. Sumner read it slowly, then
looked up at the President.

 "I know several of these boys," he said, quietly. But he was
white to the very lips. Yf you wish, I'll write to their families."

 "Check them off and I'll delay the army notices," agreed
Lincoln, purposely businesslike and crisp but watching
Sumner closely. The Senator looked as if he were about to
faint.

 But Sumner was steady enough. He folded the tragic slip
and put it in his pocketbook. "I'll send this back to you in an
hour or so, Mr. Lincoln," he said. His voice was husky. His
eyes suffused.

336 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE
 "Thank you again for Tad, Senator," said the President.

"I love Tad," murmured Sumner and he went slowly out
into the hall.

  On his way back to his desk, Lincoln met Mary and told
her the news. She gasped, blinked and exclaimed, "Isn't it
ghastly how one man's grief may mean another man's
solacel"

  "I'd say Sumner had a long hard row to hoe before he
found his solace," Lincoln nodded grimly.

"Poor fellowl I'm afraid he hasl" agreed Mary.

                 CHAPTER X
               TUE EXPLOSIVE

T INCOLN finished the annual message about the middle of
Novem| her. His preoccupation with this had caused him to
leave until the ~ last moment the setting down of a speech
he had been asked to make at the dedication of the
Gettysburg cemetery on November 18th. He left for
Gettysburg on the 18th with John Hay, Seward, Nicolay,
Stanton and others, both reluctant and eager to go. Tad was
ill, not seriously, but he disliked leaving him. He and Mary
since Willie's death could scarcely contain themselves for
anxiety if either Tad or Bob so much as sneezed. Lincoln
was feeling ill, himself. He was feverish and his head ached
and buzzed.

 His back ached too. But he was eager to get away from
Washington for a few hours. Eager, too, to see the
battlefield, every rod of which he knew vicariously as he had
known Antietam and Chancellorsville. He was afraid Mary
would discover his condition and sic Dr. Stone on him. Then
his holiday would be nil.

 But he got away without trouble and finished writing the
little speech on the train. He delivered it the next day. It
sounded flat, it seemed to Lincoln, after Edward Everett's
long hour of superb oratory. The people seemed
unimpressed and he supposed they looked on his effort as a
sort of benediction following Everett's great sermon. He
hoped it was not an entire failure, he told Everett, who
praised it.

 Not that it mattered. Nor did the view of the battlefield
later matter much. He felt ill and wanted to get home. He
got there late in the evening of the 18th. Mary gave him one
look, then made him lie down on the sofa in the sitting
room. Then she sent for Dr. Stone.

 The doctor examined the President carefully. When he had
finished he said gravely, "I'm afraid we've got a case of
varioloid here, Mr. Lincoln."

Mary gave a little scream. "Smallpox, doctorl My poor
husband!"

 "Mild smallpox," agreed Dr. Stone. "You must get to bed,
sir, and we must put the White House under quarantine."

 "Has Taddie got this, too? Are you deceiving me about
him?" gasped Mary.

 "Nol Nol Tad only has malaria and is doing well." The
doctor smiled at her. "Keep him away from his father. Take
off your shawl, Mrs. Lincoln, I'm going to vaccinate every
one in the house beginning with you. We doctors all go
armed these days for just this."

 "But it took with me, last summer," protested Mary,
nevertheless baring her plump white arm, her voice steadying
as she did so.

Dr. Stone grunted and rubbed the firm flesh with alcohol.
He talked as

338 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

he worked. "You must get to bed and stay there, Mr.
Lincoln. Varioloid can be dangerous. I don't want to frighten
you. But you're a very sick man and must take care of
yourself."

  Lincoln glanced up at the doctor who looked curiously
unreal. In fact he seemed to waver back and forth like a
ghost disturbed by wind. "I can't go to bed," he said hoarsely.
"I've got to finish my annual message and discuss it with the
Cabinet. And those poor fellows out at Chattanooga are
beginning a fearful fight. I'm needed at the end of a
telegraph wire. I'm not catching, am I, till I begin to erupts"

  "Not necessarily. But you must stay in bed, Mr. Lincoln, or
you'll endanger your life. Can't you control him, Mrs.
Lincoln7" He looked at Mary. He knew she would rise
wonderfully to the emergency, though she might have
hysterics afterward.

  She gave the doctor a little nod and taking both Lincoln's
hands, she gave him a gentle tug. "Come, my dean You've
no excuse for not spending this night at least in bed. You've
got a new kind of patronage to distribute now, eh7"

  Lincoln staggered to his feet, blind with pain. "Yes," he
mumbled, "it's the only time I've had something to give away
that nobody wanted."

  He passed a wretched night, his fever giving him horrid,
inchoate fantasies. But he woke in the morning with brain
clear enough to realize that he was going to be very ill and
that unless he discussed the annual message with his
Cabinet, at once, he might not be able to do so at all.

  When Nicolay came in to say that the Cabinet members
had convened and wished to know what of the President's
work they could perform, he sat up in bed and told the
secretary to help him on with his dressing robe. This done,
he said:

  "Now you go out and ask them if they're afraid to come in
here for a little while. I'm not catching yet. And I want to
read them the message. Then I can go ahead and be sick
right comfortably."

  All the seven followed Nicolay back into the bedroom. The
sight of them steadied the President to a supreme effort. His
brain cleared marvelously. He was even able, he told himself
with a grin, to observe a certain hopeful aspect in Chase's
concern for him, as if the Secretary of the Treasury were
wondering how often varioloid proved fatal or if it ever
ripened into black smallpox or if black smallpox in a
President were grounds for impeachment. When they were
seated around the room, he took the message from Nicolay
and read it aloud.

  It was a remarkable state document, more remarkable
than Lincoln at all realized until he saw its effect on this
particularly astute audience. As an annual message must, it
contained the usual report on the condition of the country,
but it contained three other clauses all of which Lincoln
considered exceedingly and equally important. First it
contained a proclamation of amnesty for repentant rebels
with the oath of allegiance they must sign. Second, a succinct
statement to the effect that when ten per cent of the pre-war
voters in any rebelling State should take this oath of

THE EXPLOSIVE 339

allegiance, they could form a State government which would
be recognized by the Chief Executive as the authentic voice
of that State. Third, he magnificently reassured Congress and
the country of his abhorrence of slavery and of his
unbreakable determination to end the "execrable institution."

  When he had finished, he dropped the manuscript a little
feebly and took off his spectacles that he might perceive
clearly the effect his explosives had had on his associates.

  Seward smiled. "In other words, Mr. Lincoln, you've forever
put to rest the howl of the radicals that you won't
pemmanently end slavery."

  "Yesl Yesl" exclaimed "Father" Welles. "You've closed
Sumner's mouth for goodl"

  The other members joined in with enthusiastic
congratulations on his restatement of his attitude toward the
slaves. Lincoln waited with growing surprise for their
comments on his reconstruction program. To his utter
astonishment none came. Gradually, it dawned on him that
these men, too, had been skeptical as to his detemmination
to down the "slave empire" these men who, one might have
thought, must understand clearly his every political purpose.
And in the intensity of their relief and joy, they were ignoring
the importance of the methods by which he proposed to carry
out his promise to end slavery. It was a staggering thought to
Lincoln. If the message had this effect on his official
intimates, why might it not have the same effect on Congress7
Wasn't it possible that in swallowing his declarations on
Emancipation, Congress would swallow his plans for
reconstruction? If this were possible, then the message would
go farther than his wildest dreams of its purpose had carried
him.

  He listened to the ejaculations of the Secretaries even
Chase piped up feebly, although the clause on slavery robbed
him of his choicest criticism against Lincoln tried to thank
them and suddenly realized that he had gone beyond his
strength. The faces about his bed faded away and when he
came to himself, the room was empty and Mary was holding
smelling salts to his nose the while she chided him.

  He was very ill for a few days; so ill that he found himself
during lucid intervals earnestly tabulating Hamlin's
weaknesses and strength and wishing that he'd been able to
make the man from Maine more fully his partner in his plans
for reconstruction; so ill that, as he reamed later, the whole
country was speculating on Hamlin's known and unknown
biases. The fever, the pain, the almost intolerable itching
finally engrossed him and he was obliged, as he told Mary, to
leave the country for a while to stew in its own juices.

  But he was splendidly strong and by the first week in
December he was mentally himself and able to rejoice
mightily in the great news of Grant's victory at Chattanooga.
There was no such dearth of information concerning this
battle as had been the case with Gettysburg. Charles Dana
was with Grant and he kept Stanton informed.

"Dana's reports for six months have been giving us fair
warning that

34o WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

Grant's the man," said Lincoln, as he read Dana's vivid story
of the battle to Mary. "I reckon that what with Dana's
opinion and Grant's vindication of it, the little General's in
line for that dictatorship. And what will Butler and his
friends say then7"

Mary shook her head. "Butler'll say he never had a real
chance."

"Then he'll say a lie," returned the President, flatly.

 He was chafing now over the quarantine restrictions. He
wanted to get up to the Capitol and read the annual
message himself to a joint session of the Houses. The more
he thought of the reception the Cabinet had given his paper
the more excited and sanguine he became about its possible
effect on the Congress, the more he grew to believe it might
be possible to sweep some of his own reconstruction
legislation through on the wave of enthusiasm he was sure
now the message would engender.

 But when he told Dr. Stone his plan, the physician vetoed
it with all the large vehemence at his command. He tried to
win Mary, but she became half hysterical at the mere
mention of such a strain on his weakened nerves. Still, not
till the day the message was due did Lincoln really give up
the struggle. Then, while eating his breakfast in bed, he sent
for John Hay and dispatched him to the Capitol with the
manuscript.

 John was gone for hours and Lincoln worked himself into
a fever before the young man appeared. He had waited until
Congress had exhausted its first comments. The story of the
day lost nothing, of course, in John's telling. However,
Lincoln was convinced that there could be no question but
that Congress had received the message with wild
enthusiasm.

 Charles Sumner had gone about, saying, "The slaves are
freer The slaves are freer" Boutell, the extreme radical, had
kept shouting, "It is right at lastl The free are forever freer"
Owen Lovejoy, the Western Abolitionist, had sobbed, "I
shall live to see slavery ended in Americal" And Greeley, on
the floor for the day, had cried that it was devilish goodl

 Not a single question had been raised about his
reconstruction clauses. Every thought had been focused on
the slavery issue. It was astounding! Lincoln felt his physical
weakness drop from him like a discarded garment.

 "Why, John, the millennium's arrived! The radicals are
praising Lincolul" he cried. "Here, give me a shoulder. I'm
going into the office and do an hour's work instead of sitting
here like an old lady tatting. Even Lyman Trumbull and
Henry Winter Davis approved me, eh?"

 "Trumbull did. Davis asked that the reconstruction portion
of the message be referred to a special committee and that
was done," replied John, as he offered the President his
hand.

"Who is chairman of that committee?" asked Lincoln,
sharply.

"Winter Davis himself," replied John.

 Lincoln sank back on the sofa. "My mortal enemyl" he
groaned. "Still, you say he didn't talk against the message?"
hopefully.

 "Not at all, sir," replied John. "I'm sure you can rest easy.
There's a real feeling of loyalty to you to-night in Congress.
Davis or Sumner either won't be able to get any dirty
legislation through."

THE EXPLOSIVE 34r

 "Loyalty!" ejaculated Lincoln. "You poor puling babel
Haven't you learned yet, dear John, that there's no such
word in the lexicon of politics? Even Sumner, the finest
Roman of them all, can't be loyal. Human nature's a pretty
weak thing, I reckon. The world is full of Judases. Come to
think of it, the Saviour of the world chose twelve disciples
and even out of that small number, selected by superhuman
wisdom, one turned out a traitor!" Then with a twinkle, he
added, "Maybe it's not improper to say that Judas carried the
bag, was treasurer to Jesus and his disciples!"

 John laughed ruefully, then asked, "Is that why you have
no real intimates among the politicians, Mr. Lincoln7"

 "I reckon that's part of the reason," agreed the President,
a little sadly. He sighed, then looked over the young man
appraisingly as he lingered before the fire. "You look as if
you needed to get out to grass, John. Being tied to an office
job is hard on a young fellow like you. You've got some
so-called political friends among the Unionists in Florida,
haven't you?"

 The young man grinned. "Had a letter from one of them
last week. They want me to run as their Representative in
Congress."

 Lincoln returned the grin, then said seriously, "We'd better
work while Congress debates. General Gillmore plans to try
to take over the north of Florida, soon. How'd you like to go
down there and try out this oath of allegiance of mine? Fix
up some blank books and so on and see how it works."

 John's black eyes blazed. "I'd like it above all things, sill
You aren't going to lose any time, eh? When do you want
me to go?"

 "As soon as you can get ready. I'm going to have one or
two tight jobs finished before Winter Davis can get his
committee to agree on a hostile program. They won't have
the heart to destruct a state after I've made it, I'm sure."

 "Oh! even Congress isn't that idiotic!" agreed John Hay, as
they moved slowly toward the office.

 CHAPTER XI                                  ;

                              HOPB

  UMNER came up to call as soon as the quarantine was lifted, per" ~ haps a week after
the reading of the annual message. He congratui~ lated Lincoln heartily on the stand he
had taken with regard to slaves, but made no mention of reconstruction.

 Lincoln, who wished to let sleeping dogs lie until Winter Davis reported his program, was
glad to have it so. Sumner was looking extraordinarily young. Hope, Lincoln thought, is a
great rejuvenator. It was curious finally to have achieved the friendliest of outward relations
with Sumner when he never could forget for a moment that Sumner was really his deadly
adversary, was at the moment of uttering his perfectly sincere congratulations undoubtedly
planning to put Chase or himself in the White House, was figuring how to force Lincoln's
resignation, was scheming to block his every effort at rehabilitating the South on lines of
mercyl Yet there was nothing dishonorable in Sumner's attitude. All these strange
complications belonged to the political game. "No, not gamer" Lincoln corrected himself
grimly. With Sumner politics was not a game but his very life. Perhaps, he thought more
grimly, this was true of Lincoln tool

 Not the members of Congress alone reacted happily to the annual message. His stock
rose with the whole country. And though the facile pendulum of public approbation began
to swing back after a week or so, Lincoln believed that his ideas had made real progress
with the nation at large. The belief became a certainty when, soon after the holidays,
Arkansas loyalists began to take the Oath of December 8, as that portion of Lincoln's
amnesty clause was called. Andrew Johnson began administering the oath in Tennessee.
Louisiana was at work on her new constitution along the line of Lincoln's plan. John Hay
left for Florida in January, full of a great faith. The President was pleased and sanguine.

 He said to Mary one night not long after John Hay's departure, "Well, three of my baby
States are well on their way to birth and both parents doing well; myself and the ten per
cent loyalists claiming that proud title. I don't believe Congress will have the heart to drown
'em, like blind kittens."

 Mary, who was hearing Tad's French lesson at the library table, looked up to say, "You're
misjudging the cleverness and the vindictiveness of those men, Abra'm. You're judging
them by yourself. I believe Charles Sumner and Lyman Trumbull and Winter Davis are just
hoping you'll take enough rope to hang yourself."

 "Nonsense!" replied Lincoln. "Sumner's so sure he's going to get me out of here by the
time the war is over that he isn't going to trouble too

HOPE 343

much about what I do in the interim." He seated himself
before the fire and Tad at once embraced the opportunity to
drop his lessons and crowd onto his father's knees. He was
small for his ten years but still was growing a little large for
this old posture. His mother reminded him of this and
ordered him back to his lessons but his father gathered him
close and Tad prepared for a nap.

 "'Father' Welles told me to-day," Lincoln went on, "that
Sumner lately admitted to him that he had vague dreams of
himself for my job but was willing to relinquish them in favor
of Chase."

 "Abra'm," Mary suddenly leaned toward him, "why wouldn't
it be a great move, if you're renominated, to have Sumner
run for Vice President instead of Hamlin7 You know as well
as I do that nice as he is, Hamlin's not a bit of good to you.
He's a radical and works with Trumbull and Davis and
Wade."

 "Sumner would scorn the suggestion," replied Lincoln. "Not
but what you're right about Hamlin. I've been feeling round
on the subject. Even tried out General Butler for the job, to
oblige the anti-slavery Democrats. He thanked us kindly and
told us he had a real job, now. I've a good mind to try
Andrew Johnson in the place."

 Mary gave a little scream. "Oh, you great fooll Why, he's
nothing but white trashl A narrow, ignorant, hidebound
Democrat who gets drunk in public. Now don't do this thingl
Don'tl"

 "He's a true and valuable man," declared Lincoln. "The
work he's done has been simply indispensable. His
suppressing disorder in Tennessee would be enough to
immortalise him. But on top of being Govemor and General,
he's been a Quartermaster, relieving want and sheltering the
homeless. He's re-made that old State and done it
intelligently, too. And I tell you, Mary, I'll have to have the
help of the Democrats if I'm to have any chance at all of
being reelected. Johnson can swing the border States for me."

 "Ohl Ohl Ohl" Mary wrung her hands. "You're wrong in
this, Abra'm, indeed you arel"

 "I reckon you haven't watched his work in Tennessee," said
Lincoln. He was a little uneasy, as he always was when Mary
opposed his judgment of men. Mary suddenly burst into tears.
"Surely, my dear," he protested, "you don't feel that strongly
against himl"

"I feel as if you'd dug your own grave," she sobbed.

 He tried to take a light tone. "Come, nowl You mean I've
nipped some scheme you and Mrs. Hooper had hatched."

 Mary, biting her lips, dried her eyes and as she saw Tad
stirring, tried to play up to her husband's lead. "Alice Hooper
is back looking very handsome in mouming."

 "Isabella and me," remarked Tad, suddenly opening his
eyes, "a' going to be mawied as soon as I get a new pony
instead of a goat I can't get he' to like Beans and Cod. If
poo' Nanny hadn't got lost, she might have liked he'. When
I was playing with Isabella yeste'day, Mista' Sumna' said

344 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

he'd give Isabella a pony but she said to give it to me. But
I told him I couldn't take anything from an enemy of my
fatha's."

 The yawning little boy sat erect, his face rosy with sleep
and firelight. His mother crossed the room to sit on the arm
of Lincoln's chair. Lincoln rested his hand on hers.

"And what did the Senator say to that, son7" he asked.

 "He didn't say anything," replied Tad. "Anyhow, motha',
can I have a pop stand down in the hall to sell to the folks
that come to fuss at Papa day7 I want to make money for
the hospitals. I told Isabella she could wash glasses. She said
she wouldn't. She'll be a lazy wife but I'll be wealthy so I
don't mind. Can I, motha'?"

"I'll see," replied his mother.

 "Isabella's mamma," Tad went on, "is the only one I know
who don't like Mista' Sumna'l She's always saying teasy
things to him."

 "I reckon it would be a wise thing if some one of your
parents had the common sense and courage to send you to
boarding school, son," groaned Lincoln, gathering the little
figure in the black velvet suit close to him.

 "I'm not going away from you and motha', one inch,"
replied Tad with the complacency of sure knowledge. "I
don't see why she don't like him. He's stylish and famous
and she likes people like that. I asked he' and she only
laughed and pulled my ea'. She's so tall and pink and
white " He gave a wide yawn and Lincoln rose, still holding
him.

 "Well, Taddie darling, seems to me you've given your
mother and me enough thoughts to make into cuds for a
while. You, to bedl"

 Tad spoke sleepily over his father's shoulder. "Motha', will
you give me fifty cents to start my pop stand with7"

 "If you'll get your French lesson first thing in the
morning," replied his mother.

"Hoi Easyl" Tad threw her a kiss which she returned with a
smile.

 It was the day after this conversation that Henry Winter
Davis introduced his reconstruction bill in Congress. Lincoln
studied a copy of the bill. It ignored the President's plans
and declared that as the Rebel States were out of the
Union, Congress was the only agency by which they could be
readmitted. It then gave a tight formula for reconstruction
that Lincoin knew would enrage the South. For a moment
his heart sank, then, as he thought further, he said with
sudden relief to Nicolay, who had brought him the bill:

 "Sumner won't back this. It doesn't include negro suffrage
in its plans. The Senator will inevitably line up against it.
I'm not going to worry. Sumner will kill it."

"Perhaps 1" said Nicolay with a doubtful smile.

 Tad came in on this conversation demanding to know
where his mother was.

 "In the garden, most likely. She always tells James where
she's going," replied his father. "If you've looked in the
garden and she's not there, ask James."

HOPE 345

 "I have, Papa day," said Tad. "James said he saw her talking
in the ga'den to a lady in a black veil and he thinks she
walked out the back gate with the lady. He thought it was
one of her poo' folks she was going to visit. But Pete Kelley
says he saw motha' going into a house way out on Seventh
Stweet wine' he was c'lecting old wags. I to'd him he was a
big lie'. But he says he isn't."

 Lincoln glanced at Nicolay. The threat to kidnap different
members of the Lincoln family and hold them until the
President made peace had been made so frequently that no
one paid much attention to the letters containing the threats.
Yet the fear that some one might attempt to do this dastardly
thing to his wife or children never was very far from the
President's thoughts. So now he said to Nicolay, casually, for
Tad's benefit, "This reminds me that I had arranged to go to
the hospitals with Mrs. Lincoln this afternoon. Will you tell
James to tell her I'm ready?"

 Nicolay went out followed by Tad. Half an hour later, he
resumed without Tad but with Pete Kelley's hand in his. "This
small boy insists on his story, sir," said Nicolay. "We can't
seem to locate Mrs. Lincoln, nor to extend the facts beyond
Tad's account. I've sent him around to visit with Isabella."

 "How do you know it was Mrs. Lincoln, Pete?" asked
Lincoln, his heart sinking with premonition of evil.

 "Because it was, sir," insisted Pete, his freckled face pale
with earnestness. "She had on that spotted purple dress she
wears in the garden and that big floppy hat with the purple
veil. I'd know it in in in heaven."

 "I think Pete and you and I had better make a quiet trip
out to that house," said Lincoln to Nicolay, rising.

 "Let Pete and me go alone, sir. I'm sure it would be wiser,"
begged Nicolay.

 "No, sir," replied the President, picking up his hat, "if my
wife is in a tight fix, nothing can stop my going to find her.
Not Grant nor Meade nor Sumner is big enough for that."

He started for the door, filled with a nameless terror.

Nicolay suggested the carriage.

 "And have a cavalry guard follow me and a string of
reporters later?" cried Lincoln, leading the way rapidly down
the servants' path to the rear gate. "Nol How far is the house
from here, Pete?" he asked, taking the child's hand.

 "Just out the Seventh Street pike a little way, that old
farmhouse where they raise pigs," replied Pete, at a jog trot
to keep up with the President's stride.

"Can you show me a short cut?" asked Lincoln.

 "Yes, sir," suddenly fuming to a path that led through the
pasture lot beyond Lafayette Square.

 It was not difficult to avoid passers-by in this direction.
Washington was a sprawling wilderness here with no
sidewalks and the right of way along the road when they
reached it was disputed only by pigs and cows.

346 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

Fifteen minutes' walk plastered them to their knees with red
mud and brought them to a lane at the end of which stood
an old red brick house. Its white-pillared portico was falling
down. Its front garden was a pigsty and duck pond.

 "Here it is, sirl" Pete wiped his nose on his sleeve and
pointed. "I saw Mrs. Lincoln walking up the steps into that
house with a lady in black."

Lincoln groaned and Pete suddenly began to cry.

 "Hushl I'm not cross. I'm obliged to you, dear Pete.
Nicolay, you and the boy stay here."

 Nicoiay ventured to protest, but Lincoln, still driven by a
mysterious certainty that Mary had called him, silenced him
sternly.

 "I always know when my wife needs me. Let me do this my
way, George."

 He splashed through the pigsty as certain that Mary was in
this ruined farm as he was that the afternoon sky was blue
overhead and that blackbirds called from a marsh beside the
lane. He banged on the door. There was no response. He
thrust it open with his foot.

 Mary lay on the floor of the deserted hall. Lincoln leaped
to her side. She was unconscious but breathing heavily. He
lifted her and rushed from the house.

 Nicolay, as he saw the President emerge, sent Pete running
like a rabbit with a note to Billy Stoddard. Lincoln did not
speak and did not answer Nicolay's questions as he started
on a mighty pace along the muddy road. But when the
President paused for breath at the edge of Lafayette Square,
the secretary produced a little silver brandy flask.

"Try it," ordered Lincoln briefly.

 But Mary could not swallow. While they were working with
her, the White House carriage galloped up with Pete beside
the coachman and in a few moments they whirled through
the White House gates.

 Dr. Stone was in attendance almost as soon as Lincoln had
laid Mary on her bed. To the President's unutterable relief,
he announced after a few moments that she was not
poisoned but was suffering from a heavy dose of morphine.
He began at once to work on her, but it was midnight before
Mary recognized her husband's anxious face beside her
pillow.

"Where's Taddie7" was her first question.

 "Over on your sofa, asleep," replied the President, laying
her hand against his cheek. "He wouldn't go to his own bed
until you could kiss him good-night."

 Mary raised herself on one elbow and after a glance at
Tad lay down again with a sigh of relief. "I had a feeling that
something had been done to him." She stared at her
husband. "Just what has happened7"

 "That's just what we want to know," replied Lincoln. "I'll
tell you what occurred here."

 Mary listened intently. When he had finished his account,
she said, "I did call you. I knew you'd hear."

They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, then Mary
said, "That

                   HOPE

Rachel Atkins who's been helping me with my hospital
sewing came to me this morning while I was at work in the
greenhouse and told me with great secrecy that brother
John was in hiding in her house out on Seventh Street. She
said he'd recently been brought as a prisoner to Point
Lookout, that he had escaped with the help of her husband,
who I knew was a guard over there, and wanted to see me
before he died of a bad wound he'd gotten last fall at
Chattanooga.

 "Of course I got excited as usual. The one thought I had
was that such news about my half brother would start the
gossip about my being a Southern sympathiser all over
again. But I just had to go to John in his need. So I told no
one and started off with Rachel. Well, she had a wounded
Rebel there, all right, but it wasn't John or anything like
him. I was suspicious at once and accused Rachel of
deceiving me. While we were arguing I began to feel faint,
the way I do so often and Rachel got me a glass of water.
I remember later trying to get out of the house and that's
all."

"About enough, I should thinkl" exclaimed Lincoln, heatedly.

"Don't scold me, dearl I know I was a fool."

 "Scold your" ejaculated the President. "I feel more like
weeping over you."

And he did weep, with his head beside hers on the pillow.

 The Detective Police unraveled the story easily enough.
The woman Rachel Atkins and her accomplices were
Northerners, who had planned to hold the President's wife
subject to orders from a group of influential Rebels in
Richmond. It was extraordinary how near their scheme
came to working. A depot hack had been at the back door
ready to convey Mary to parts unknown when Lincoln
thundered at the front door. The plotters' escape into the
woods had been easy and they were not found until the
following day.

 Mary was a long time recovering from the morphine
poisoning and the shock. It was given out that the
President's wife was suffering from an attack of malaria and
no one questioned this or asked why the ague should be
accompanied by the profound nervous symptoms that
accompanied the attack.

 CHAPTER XII                                 ~

                        A LOVER AT FIFTY

TN one way, Mary's prolonged illness was a good thing for her husband. I He alone had
power to soothe her restlessness and he snatched many ~ moments from his busy day to
go to her and sit beside her sofa talking or reading. These moments, though brief, gave
him intermittent respites that helped him a great deal in enduring the frenzied business
of the spring.

 To every one's astonishment, Charles Sumner came out late in March in favor of the
Davis bill. At first, the news staggered Lincoln. He and Sumner had a short passage at
arms over it when they met in Stanton's office one day.

 "Changed your notion about negro suffrage, eh, Senator7" Lincoln asked, looking up
from the telegraph operator's seat he was occupying.

"What do you mean, Mr. Lincoln7" demanded Sumner.

  "I mean that I can't understand why you support the Davis bill," replied the President.

  "Because it does insure the negroes freedom and I believe that I can amend it to include
suffrage." Sumner spoke in a voice that silenced the whole room.

  Stanton irascibly asked if it was necessary to bring Senate debates into the War Office
and Lincoln at once turned back to the message he had been reading, while Sumner,
affronted, stalked out.

  Lincoln watched the progress of the bill with anxiety but, as the days wore on, with a
certain amount of philosophy too. The lengthy debate gave him what he needed
most time. Moreover, with the newspapers giving a great deal of space to the speeches,
the country at large must inevitably become more or less educated as to this difficult
problem of statecraft. He thought that when people understood the matter their common
sense would put them on his side. Perhaps this would help him at the polls. And as spring
came on his thought as to this appeared to be justified. An astonishingly large number of
States were instructing their delegates to the pending Republican convention to vote for
the renomination of Abraham Lincoln.

  Gradually he became conscious of a thrilling fact; that beyond the yammering, noisy
throngs who wrote to him and talked to him and scolded and hampered him with their
hates, there was a great, voiceless multitude which believed as he believed. Sumner's
phrase, "King of the Commonalty," occurred to him many times that spring as he compared
the vicious statements made about him in Congress with the silent comment of the
common people sending their delegates to the convention. Perhaps if Sum

A LOVER AT FIFTY 349

nerdid get around to starting that impeachment, the plain
folks wouldn't stand for itl

 Even when his own plans on reconstruction miscarried, he
did not falter as he might have without this consciousness of
the backing of the commonalty. John Hay returned from
Florida early in April, the picture of despair. Both his mission
and that of General Gillmore had failed.

 "Pshaw, Johnt" exclaimed Lincoln. "Don't go round with
your tail between your legal We were merely premature. I'll
send you down there later and you'll put it through after the
convention."

 As warm weather advanced and roads dried, active military
campaigns pressed upon his attention. He had to be the main
guiding hand of the general scheme, for Halleck was breaking
under the strain poor Halleck  and becoming each day
more helpless to make decisions, more sullen and recalcitrant
under Stanton's battering and the contempt of his command-
ing generals.

 It was evident that a firmer hand than Halleck's was needed
at the head of all the fighting forces, but Lincoln did not want
to oust him and hung on to him, trying to bolster Halleck's
weaknesses with his own strength. However, it was a decided
relief to Lincoln when, the tide of public opinion about Grant
having caught up with the President's, Congress requested
Lincoln to elevate Grant to the grade of Lieutenant General.
This was the highest rank ever held by any American officer
save Washington. Halleck was thus automatically
subordinated to Grant, although he retained his position in
Washington.

 Grant at once assumed personal command over the Army
of the Potomac and went to Headquarters on the Rapidan.
Lincoln, with a feeling that it was now or never, girded
himself up to watch for signs that Grant would not be smitten
with the lethargy that had overtaken all his predecessors.

 It became obvious in April that the Sumner group was
concentrating its efforts on putting Chase into the running for
the radical nomination. Lincoln hoped that this meant that
they were done, for the moment at least, with the
impeachment idea. The fact that he was flagrantly disloyal to
his chief did not prevent the Secretary of the Treasury from
clinging with all his brilliant and vindictive strength to the
prerogatives of his office. Indeed, he so frequently
overstepped his prerogatives this spring of 1864 that Lincoln's
patience broke.

He refused to ratify a highly improper appointment made by
Chase.

Chase immediately sent in one of his periodic resignations.

Lincoln accepted it!

  It was not an easy thing to do from any point of view.
Chase was superb in his official capacity, but as Lincoln told
Mary, after he had made his decision, the Secretary had
become so increasingly irritable and uncomfortable that he
was making the whole Cabinet irritable and uncomfortable
with him. People at large would be bound to misinterpret the
act, would be bound to construe it as revenge on Lincoln's
part because of

)

350 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

those Presidential aspirations. But hardest of all to bear
must be the effect it could have on Charles Sumner.

  As Lincoln had foreseen, immediately after word had gone
out that Senator Fessenden of Maine had accepted Chase's
portfolio, Sumner descended on the White House.

  It was a lovely May morning, and Lincoln was walking with
Mary in the kitchen garden looking for the first signs of fruit
in the strawberry beds when the Senator found them. The
President almost groaned aloud. His failure to get on with
Sumner was becoming a nightmare.

  "Shall I stay or disappear?" asked Mary, as they saw the
gigantic figure in the checked suit striding over the
asparagus beds.

  "Better stay. I need support. My moral knees click together
like the ague whenever he gets after me, now. Well,
Senator, loaded for b'arthis morning, I seer"

  Sumner bowed to Mary, the early sun bringing red lights
to his bared chestnut head which was as yet untouched with
gray. But his face was lined. He looked as if he had slept
little.

  Lincoln gave him no chance to speak. "I thought you
wanted Fessenden out of the Senate. You hate him and are
always fighting with him."

  "No one can take Mr. Chase's placer" exclaimed Sumner.
"Least of all a sick man like Mr. Fessenden."

  "If Chase is going to run for the Republican nomination,
his resignation is only decent, Mr. Sumner." Lincoln's voice
was carefully patient. "I want him to take a full sporting
chance in the race."

  "You're playing with me, Mr. Lincolnl" protested Sumner.
"What's back of this? Revenge for Chase's Presidential
aspirations?"

  "The study of revenge immortal hate again, eh? You
don't know me yet, do you, Senatorl" Lincoln stood biting
the edge of his forefinger. How to make Sumner understand!
It was the most difficult human problem with which he'd
ever wrestled.

  Red birds whistled in the copper beech below his window.
An oriole flickered among the roses. Mary, moving a little
from them, stooped near the strawberry plants, a dainty
figure in her lavender print. Beyond the iron fence a line of
army ambulances was moving. One heard groans and
inarticulate cries as they turned the deep rutted corners.
Lincoln wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of
his hand. Sumner stood waiting. The fellow was as
unavoidable and as inexorable as fate. He would try the
effect of the simple truth on him.

  "It was this way, Senator. When Chase again tendered me
his resignation I felt bitter chagrin. It meant that he wanted
me once more to go to him and urge him to remain and that
I had accepted what he meant as disciplining me. It meant
that the Secretary of the Treasury and not the President is
top dog, that Chase is no longer subordinate to Lincoln, that
the President abdicates his constitutional powers. I have
mighty little personal pride, Senator, as I think you've found,
but the longer I hold this office, the more sensitive I grow as
to its dignity and sacredness. You know

A LOVER AT FIFTY 351

as well as I that Chase has crossed the line with me as
deliberately and grossly as ever McClellan did. I'm through."

 Sumner, cane planted in the garden loam, listened with an
unusual expression dawning in his eyes. Unless, Lincoln told
himself, he was foolishly vain, that look was one of respect.
He was sure of it when Sumner said with his captivating
simplicity and earnestness, "I beg your pardon, Mr. Lincoln.
I'm afraid we've all been a little intrusive at times. I withdraw
my protest."

 "dings," thought Lincoln, "John Hay is right! What the
fellow needs is just a good licking every once in a whilel"
Aloud he said, "Granted, Mr. Sumnerl And let me add that
no one in these United States has as much admiration for
Chase's ability as I have. No one has put up with him as
much as I have for the sake of keeping that ability harnessed
to the nation's needs. And I'm not going to give up hope of
using it again, but in another direction. In case old Chief
Justice Taney peters out while I'm still in office, what do you
say to Chase on the Supreme Bench?"

 Sumner's whole expression changed. His eyes glowed with
pleasure. "Is that a promise, Mr. Lincoln7"

 "No, it's not a promise but to this extent if I can make
myself believe that Chase's unfortunate judgments and
personal ambition won't sway him in such a position."

 This did not dampen Sumner's enthusiasm. "Oh, final Oh,
splendid! How you relieve me, Mr. Lincolnl" He held out his
hand to the President.

 Lincoln took it, thinking in astonishment as he did so that
Chase might have been instead of an asset, something of a
white elephant on the Senator's overburdened back.

 "Come in and have breakfast with us, won't you, Mr.
Sumner7" asked Mary.

 "Yes, I will, thank you, Mrs. Lincoln," following her along
the path. "I wonder if you know the French method of raising
asparagus? I have a friend near Albany who uses it with
marvelous results."

"I've heard of it," replied Mary. "Do tell me about it."

Lincoln smiled to himself.

 The dining room was cool and dim and scented with syringe
blooms. Tad, beginning the day in angelic white, threw
himself into Sumner's arms with a shout and moved his chair
close to his friend's. Mary and the Senator plunged at once
into the subject of gardening for which Sumner, who owned
no garden, had such a passion.

 In the midst of this, as usual, a messenger came from
Stanton. Lee had entangled Grant's troops in the wooded
swamps of the Wilderness as he had entangled Hooker's a
year before. Lincoln hastily finished his meal and left Mary
and Sumner debating over the best site for the new asparagus
bed. In the War Office, the ghastly details of the unspeakable
slaughter in the Wilderness engulfed him and he forgot his
mild elation over Sumner.

Mary herself fetched her husband that night from the War
OfEice, a

352 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

place she rarely visited, though oddly enough with two such
explosive natures, she and Stanton got on well together. But
James and Tad both failed to bring the President back to
supper, and Dr. Stone had warned Mary early in the spring
that Lincoln was becoming exhausted. About ten o'clock she
appeared carrying a small embroidered pillow and a grey
afghan and wearing on her delicate features an expression
of indomitable purpose.

Stanton jumped from the sofa and Lincoln turned from the
war map.

 "Just pull that old armchair to the window, Mr. Secretary,"
said Mary, briskly. "I've come to keep watch with you and
Mr. Lincoln. I can't sleep till he gets home and I'll worry
less if I can actually see him."

 Stanton gave Lincoln a helpless and humorous glance.
Lincoln buttoned his vest and took the pillow and afghan
from his wife. One might as well give in gracefully.

"Very well, my dear," he said meekly, "I'm coming."

  He followed her down the hall, through the turnstile and
into the garden again. Immersed as he had been all day in
the reports of the destruction of the flower of the Potomac
Army, he felt as if a century had ground by since he had
talked with Sumner. The walks were vague and sweet. They
paced slowly, arm in arm. Lincoln began to speak of the
horrible losses of the day.

  "No, let's not talk about the war," interrupted Mary, flatly.
"I want you to sleep to-night. Let's talk about Sumner. Poor
fellowl I hope he'll have a garden of his own some day. He
was so eager and so pathetic about that foolish asparagus
bed. Never has a man needed a home and family more than
he."

  "How do he and Mrs. Hooper make it7" asked Lincoln,
rubbing his head wearily, yet knowing that unless he
followed Mary's lead and thrust the war out of his mind,
he'd get no sleep that night.

  "Oh, he's in a terrible state of minds Bob couldn't be more
bowled over than the Senator is. I wish Bob would write
me. Have you heard from him lately?"

  "No, but no news is good news. Go on about Sumner. Did
he reveal details of his state of mind to you? Sumner in love
rather appeals to my sense of humor."

  "Well, if that's the effect it has on you" indignantly "I'II
not open my mouth and you can just stay awake all night."

  "Sumner in love is a perfect sleeping potion," he cried
hastily and with a little laugh. "And you know I wouldn't
miss one of your stories of an interview for six bits, Mary."

  She squeezed his arm. "Sit down here under this magnolia
and I'll tell you. No one can find you for a moment. Put
your arm about me and they'll think we're two of the
servants!"

He drew her close against him and she felt his body relax.

  Sumner, she said, selected a spot for the asparagus trench
to the south of the greenhouse, and then gave Mary the
name of an ornamental ever

A LOVER AT FIFTY 353

green shrub whose identity had puzzled both Mary and the
gardener. Tad, who had tagged after them, announced at this
point that he was going to give the evergreen to Isabella for
a Christmas tree. Then he suddenly added that he was going
to play with Isabella and darted away. Sumner looked after
the little boy, flying along the paths, and said with a great
sigh:

 "Oh, for his spontaneity, therel Oh, for his sureness of a
welcomel" Then as if he could not control himself, he added
in an anguished voice, "This is killing met"

 Mary did not pretend to misunderstand him but she spoke
with her usual briskness. "You're so silly in your attitude
toward her. You're much too deferential. Her attitude
toward you is just her way of teasing. As a matter of fact,
she's deeply interested in you. She talks to me a great deal
about your work and has ambitions for you. She's really very
clever. Go ask her advice on politics and if she's saucy,
squelch her the way Mr. Lincoln does me. You mustn't
expect a woman of her social prestige to be overwhelmed by
the fact that you're a United States Senator. Let her feel that
she could help you to be anything."

 Mary paused in her recital and Lincoln gave a sudden loud
shout of laughter. "What did he say then?"

 "He said good-by and went straight to call on Alice
Hooper. Taddie saw him there. I'm dying to know what
happened. I'm afraid he was late getting to the Senate."

 Lincoln laughed again. "Poor Sumnerl Come, darling Mary,
you've done your job. I can sleep nowl" He took her hand
and led her toward the dimly lighted basement entrance.

               CHAPTER XIII
                MEN ER WAR

T TE did sleep for a few hours that night, but was roused by
the wakening birds to lie and struggle for a long time with
what he called his battle horrors. He assured himself that
this battle of Grant's in Virginia was actually the beginning
of the end if only Grant had the grit to continue until Lee's
Army was destroyed. Grant's bloc* proof will was what he
had been seeking since that April night, three years before,
when he had sent the telegram for the relief of Fort Sumter.
He must set himself to endure with greater equanimity the
sight and sound of those dripping ambulances that filed
continuously by the White House. But Grant's losses were
nearing the fifty-thousand mark. He must gird himself to
a new endurance. God send that the people's nerve stand
up under the slaughter! He'd send John Hay at once to the
Middle West to see how deep was the despondency there.
Mary had said that Grant was a butcher. Well, after all, war
was a butcher's job.

 The next thing, undoubtedly, would be Greeley yelling for
peace. Queer that Greeley couldn't get it through his head
that North and South must drink to its dregs the bitter cup.
Halleck was claiming that in some of the battles down there
Grant's losses were unnecessary and fruitless. Perhaps Grant
really was Well, let that go now. Halleck naturally was
disgruntled at being subordinated in rank to the little
General. After the Republican convention was over, he'd get
down to see Grant for himself and give him a word of
warning.

He rose with a sigh and dressed.

 Fred Douglass met Lincoln after breakfast as he was
making his way to Stanton's office. The colored man was
standing by the turnstile, his soft black hat in his hand, the
blazing sun turning his black hair to bronze. The President
shook hands with him.

"Well, Mr. Douglass, what are you and Bob hatching now?"

 Douglass smiled. "Will you allow Mr. Robert to go with
me again this summer, Mr. Lincoln?"

 "Let's sit down," suggested Lincoln, leading the way to the
bench he and Mary had occupied the night before. "Do you
and Bob want to carry out the same program again?"

 "No, sir, the colored people are coming over well enough
now. I want you to let Mr. Robert lead up a regiment of
negroes I'll pick myself. Sir, we'll sweep from Fortress
Monroe to the end of Florida with it."

 "But, Mr. Douglass," protested Lincoln, "he's only an
untrained boy! Does he know of this?"

"No, sir. But he's your son. That's all that my people care
about. And

MEN-ER WAR 3 5 5

he's very able. Oh, Mr. Lincoln, don't veto this without long consideration. I want to hush
forever the plea of the whites that negroes can't stand the gaff of battle. Jefferson Davis says
that if negroes will make good soldiers, their whole theory of slavery is wrong. Give us a
chance to show our mettle, Mr. Lincoln." Douglass clasped his hands as if in prayer.

 Lincoln stirred uneasily. "But, Mr. Douglass, your people have already proved themselves
nobly. Their performance with Colonel Shaw alone was enough for that. My dear friend, you
can have no idea of the difficulties your plea presents. It's almost impossible. I can't undertake
it."

 Douglass got the note of finality in his voice. "There's no use in pleadingl" he said,
heartbrokenly.

 "I'm afraid not, Mr. Douglass. Comel Comel" laying his hand on Douglass' arm. "Don't
make me feel like a criminal. Ask me something that I can grant."

 "Give our soldiers equal pay and equal promotion with the whites," returned Douglass,
instantly.

 "You've earned it," said Lincoln, "but only Congress can remove those disabilities."

 "If such an amendment is added to the Davis bill will it stand a chance with you to become
a law7" asked the colored man.

 "What, are you so blind as to favor that bill?" Lincoln's voice was astonished. "That bill
doesn't grant you even civic equality."

 "But it's at least a guarantee of our freedom!" Douglass' black eyes glowed.

 "A constitutional amendment would be a surer way to get that. The States themselves have
to ratify an amendment," said Lincoln. "I don't mind confiding to you that I'm insisting that
a pledge to pass such an amendment be written into the Republican platform."

 "Ahl Gloriousl You make me gladl" The colored man gave a great sigh, then said, abruptly,
"But that means you may veto the Davis bill if it is sent you to sign? Oh, sir, I beg of you, do
sign it."

 Lincoln turned in his seat to face Douglass. "I'm not saying as to that. But ponder this well,
Douglass. We'll certainly assure freedom to your people. But having done so, I'm not going
to try to legislate the former slave holders into carrying the slaves to the voting booth or
sitting down to a meal of victuals with them."

 "Then you're going to veto the Davis bill, sir?" insisted Douglass. Lincoln saw suddenly that
his sensitive mouth was trembling and that his eyes were suffused with tears.

 He slid his hand to Douglass' broad shoulder. "Now, I've hurt your I'm sorry about that. But
I'm getting too old to lie or to give false hopes."

 "General Butler said you'd say no to everything," said Douglass with a mournful smile.

"You've been down there, eh? How does the exchange of colored pris-
 oners go on7"                                                 ;

"It doesn't go, of course, Mr. Lincoln," replied Douglass, "and it won't,

356 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE
General Butler assures me, as long as General Grant is in
full command."

"Didn't Butler give you Grant's reason7" asked Lincoln,
sharply.

 "Oh, yes, Mr. Presidentl" replied Douglass wearily, as
though, Lincoln thought, the weaknesses of the whites were
utterly childish in his eyes. "He says that General Grant's
been drinking hard ever since things have gone so badly and
he leaves his decision to his subordinates, who are nigger
haters."

 "And Butler's the man," ejaculated Lincoln, "that they say
would be superior to Andy Johnson as Vice President! It's an
ornery lie, in plain words, that Butler's given you, Mr.
Douglass. General Grant, whether his personal habits are or
are not perfect, is a superb military man, and he knows we
need all the fighters we can get, without regard to colon He
sent me a copy of his letter to Butler. Grant said to stop all
exchanges until the South agreed to swap even-steven as to
numbers and without regard to colon Understand7"

 Douglass jerked suddenly to his feet. "But why should
General Butler tell me a lie7"

 "Oh, that's simpler" The President spoke wearily in his turn.
"Butler fancies himself as a military genius when he's really
a military fool. He wants to run the Army of the Potomac.
But his genius is as a civil executive."

 Douglass stared at Lincoln and slowly the expression of
alienation softened. "You're the only person of authority in
the country who tells me the truthl Mr. Lincoln, do you think
Mr. Sumner reads General Butler correctly? They're very
intimate. General Butler's planning to swing all his political
weight in New England to help Sumner defeat you if you're
nominated."

"Did Butler tell you that7" asked Lincoln.

 "Yes, sir," replied the colored man. "I like Mr. Sumner and
I think I'll warn him as to Butler's character. And I want to
say this: If colored men had the vote, nothing could stop your
reelection, sir."

"In spite of my views on reconstructions" Lincoln smiled as
he rose.

 Douglass returned the smile. "They only know and care
that you've struck the chains from their ankles. Mr.
President" clasping his hands and speaking with deep
earnestness "isn't there something I can do or say that will
persuade you to turn reconstruction over to Mr. Sumner7"

 "Nor" Lincoln put into the negation all the weight of his
months of anxious pondering.

 The look of despondency with which the colored man
bowed and turned away hurt the President. He didn't want
the interview to end in despondency. He had too many such
endings lately. He called Douglass back.

 "Mr. Douglass," he said, "will you do some recruiting of
your people under General Thomas7 I'll try my best to get
you a captain's commission. We need soldiers, Mr. Douglass.
Terribly we need soldiers. When Gen

MEN ER WAR 357

eral Grant once gets possession of a place he hangs onto it as
if he'd inherited it. But he pays a price for his nighnessl"

 "I'd be proud and happy to serve under General Thomas,"
replied Douglass.

 Lincoln nodded. "I'll see Stanton as soon as his mind's
free." He shook hands and hurried to the War Office more
than ever determined to get down and visit Grant.

 But he would not leave until the matter of the
renomination was settled. He was keeping in touch in every
way possible with the intricate political intrigues that prefaced
the convention and brought to bear all his hard-won political
wisdom on details of the preparations for the struggle. Once
the convention was set at Baltimore, however, he sent John
Hay and George Nicolay to keep him informed of the
proceedings and wiped his mind of active concern for it.

 He received the news of his nomination with mingled
gratification and apprehension. The next few months would
make him more than ever the center of unprecedentedly
bitter political fighting. It was not a pleasant prospect.

 A day or so after the convention was over, the nominating
committee waited on him in the East Parlor. That little
parlor in Springfield where he'd received the committee of
1861 seemed poignantly remote.

 He sent Mary to Vermont shortly after this to finish her
convalescence, and then gathered up Taddie and went down
to visit Grant. Charles Dana had told Stanton that the morale
of the Army of the Potomac was very low. The
long-drawn-out failure of the siege of Petersburg, the frightful
losses, and the low type of men now recruited made it a
vastly inferior army to that with which McClellan and Meade
had been blessed. It was evident too that Lee had not too
much respect for Grant's forces, for just before Lincoln's visit
he detached zo,ooo men from the Richmond defenses and
sent them up the Shenandoah Valley under General Early to
destroy whom and what they might. Stanton was worried
about this destroying horde. But Grant refused to share the
Secretary's anxiety. One of the many errands Stanton urged
Lincoln to do on this visit was to rouse Grant's interest in
Early. But the President, after thinking it over, told Stanton
he didn't feel competent to argue with Grant over military
tactics. He found Grant as usual, clean-cut as a hound's
tooth, not in the least boastful-sanguine-a very great soldier.
The other officers drank freely at meals. Grant and he turned
down their glasses. The atmosphere was different from any
he'd ever found enveloping the Headquarters of the Army of
the Potomac. Cold efficiency was the watchword, and al-
though he rejoiced in it, it depressed him. He made no
suggestions to Grant save that he hoped he'd accomplish his
task with as little bloodshed as possible.

 The one warm memory which he carried back to
Washington was of the negro troops.

Some one at officers' mess remarked the night before Lincoln
left that

3 58 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

the colored soldiers were strangely silent. There was a
division of them camped by the river. Colonel Thomas, who
had a colored regiment, nodded.

 "Yes, they learned to-day that they were to lead the assault
on the fortifications east of Petersburg."

"Are they frightened deserting7" asked Lincoln, quickly.

 "So far, we've never had a negro deserter," answered
Thomas, "and they certainly aren't frightened. But where
with white troops important military news is received with
cheers followed by great argumentation among themselves
as to its value, the colored men sit down and 'study.' They're
'studying' now. Later on, they'll sing. That is, some fellow,
like a Quaker moved to prayer, will be moved to improvise
a chant that expresses the philosophy of the occasion. If the
others agree, they'll join him. If they don't, he'll have to try
again. Nol Nol Those men aren't frightened. They're
profoundly stirred by this honor of making the initial dash."

 When Lincoln left the mess tent, he slipped away toward
the section of the camp where the four thousand colored
soldiers were living. He made his way well into their midst
without being discovered, coming to pause in the shade of
a giant sycamore.

 There were many campfires gleaming, throwing dusky
faces, liquid eyes, white teeth against the spangled sky. And
silence. It was profoundly moving. Lincoln wondered what
would be the effect if he discovered himself to these men so
lost in contemplation. Just as he had concluded to try the
experiment, a heavy bass voice at a little distance from his
tree began to chant.

  "We-e looks like me-en a-a-marchin' on.

We looks li-ike men-er-war "

 No one joined him. He changed the melody slightly. In the
faces of the groups nearest Lincoln there was no slightest
shift of expression, no gleam of interest. The singer changed
to a minor key and lifted an octave. A remote tenor now
joined him. A baritone came in, then a weird falsetto. As if
this last were a signal, there now rose a deep wave of song
that increased in volume with each note until with
"men-er-war," Lincoln was sure that the whole four thousand
had joined.

 They chanted the lines again and yet again and again until
the President could feel the gooseflesh rise on the back of
his neck. He stood with his hands clasped behind him, his
heart swelling and suddenly just for one ineffable
moment he was engulfed with gladness, such gladness, he
thought, as Moses had felt when he had led the way across
the Red Sea. This, this that he had brought about surely was
reparation for the two hundred years of wickedness

 He turned slowly and keeping to the shadows, returned to
his tent and went to sleep with that soul-stirring chorus still
in his ear, "We looks like men-er-war."

                CHAPTER XIV
              THE POCKET VETO

T INCOLN returned to Washington the next day still a little
uneasy L about Grant. It was Grant's stolid countenance
perhaps that troubled the President. He did not believe that
the little General was as sure of himself as his poker face
might indicate. A man sure of himself doesn't bother,
Lincoln thought, to build up such a wall of indifference.
Grant was a hard man to get at. No commander of the Army
of the Potomac ever had treated Lincoln with the cordial
respect accorded him by Grant. Lincoln appreciated this
deeply. Yet Grant baffled him, held him off.

 Thinking his visit over, Lincoln was glad that he'd offered
Grant no advice. He had come near to breaking his
self-imposed silence only once. He was sure that Grant was
underestimating the potentialities for serious trouble in
Early's little trip up the Shenandoah. But when he had felt
round about it Grant had assured him that Hunter coming
in from the West with 1o,ooo men could control Early's
zo,ooo and he was glad to have Lee weakened by that many
troops. Lincoln had opened his lips to protest but had closed
them without speaking.

 Lincoln had a feeling that Early was going to knock loudly
on Washington's back door before many weeks, and as
Grant had all the city's trained forces with him in Virginia,
Washington lay naked for the taking. Well, he concluded his
thinking, perhaps now was as good a time as any for Grant
to learn Lee's possibilities in foot work.

 Stanton alternately cursed and expressed satisfaction over
Lincoln's story of his visit. Both men agreed that news of
Early must be kept as much as possible out of the local
papers while as quietly as possible home guards should be
organized to man the forts that ringed the city. It was not
easy to carry out these plans. Halleck refused to originate
anything; would do only the specific things that the President
ordered him to do. Stanton was not a soldier. Neither was
Lincoln. And a soldier with ideas was very much needed in
Washington.

 Lincoln worried about this when he was not sweating over
the Davis bill which Congress still debated. Soon after the
President's return from Grant's Headquarters, Bob came
home for the summer vacation, and in the absence of his
mother at once constituted himself Tad's mentor. Tad had
not the least intention of permitting any one on earth to act
as his mentor. Nicolay who usually played peacemaker was
off to Arkansas to inspect the progress of reconstruction in
that State and John Hay ardently encouraged Bob in his role
of disciplinarian. So, as Lincoln wrote Mary,

360 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

the siege of Richmond was a quiet affair compared with
what was taking place in the upper and lower reaches of the
White House.

 "Bob," he wrote, "is sure enough man's size in his
understanding of many of my problems. He's taking a great
interest in the Davis bill, goes up to the Senate and listens
to the debates and comes back, his eyes crackling like yours,
and tells me about them as intelligently as Nicolay could.
And two minutes later he's fussing with poor little Taddie as
if they both were ten years old. Outside of their abortive
attempt to reform my darling Tad, he and John are making
an heroic effort at filling Nicolay's job, but no one can push
through the day's run like John George. I reckon you'll have
a warm welcome when you get back "

 On July 3, the day before Congress was to adjourn,
Lincoln was sitting in his own room just before supper with
a heavy heart, thinking over Bob's report on the speeches
made that day, when the loud outcry across the hall caused
by Tad's refusal to wash his ears at Bob's behest ceased so
suddenly that he came startled to his feet and made for the
door. It opened before he reached it to admit his wife, in
lilac bonnet, sunshade in hand.

 "Thank God, MaryI" he ejaculated, gathering her in his
arms. A moment later, he said, "You squelched the boys, of
course."

 "I certainly did " smoothing his hair with the old loved
gesture. "Bob looked so disgusted with me. That boy grows
handsomer every day, Abra'm."

"He looks exactly like you, my dear," smiled Lincoln.

 "You are positively wilted!" said Mary. "I shall move you
straight out to the Soldiers' Home the minute Congress
adjourns. Have they sent you the Davis bill to signs"

 "Not yet," replied Lincoln. He looked down into her face
as she stood leaning against him. "Mary, if I veto that bill,
I knock my chances of reelection sky high. The people can't
be expected to understand my reason. They'd have to have
been here day by day to see it."

 "But I thought you felt the debate helped you with the
voters," protested Mary.

 "It did, for a while. But they've been at it longer than I
anticipated. And constant dripping wears away a stone."

"Are you going to veto it? Does Sumner knows" asked Mary.

  "I haven't said I'm going to, have I? I'm thinking aloud to
you, that's all. Sumner's pretty mad at me again. He knows
I've sent Nicolay out to Arkansas to tell General Steele to
give the new State Government the same support and
protection that he would have if Congress had seated the
new members from Arkansas."

"But that's openly defying Congressl" she ejaculated.

  "Only incidentally. Primarily, it's helping Steele do the best
he can toward suppressing rebellion. In no event and in no
view of the case can it do any harm."

"Except to you, with Congress," sighed his wife. "You poor
dear! I

THE POCKET VETO 361

wish Senator Sumner had more common sense. No wonder Alice
Hooper " "He's in father's office said Bob laconically,
coming in on his mother's remarks. "He wants to see you right
away, sir," turning to his father.

 Lincoln threw up both his hands. "Oh, I don't want an
argument with Sumner to-night!"

"Then you shan't have itl" and Mary rushed from the room.

 As Lincoln would have followed, Bob put his hand out to
detain him. "Let her go, fatherl He was just telling me how
much he admired mother's brain. She may make him mad
but "

 Lincoln laughed. "But he'll come back asking for more just
like the rest of us do." He walked over to the washstand,
slipping off his cuffs.

 Mary was in her room finishing her supper toilet when
Lincoln put his head in a little later.

"Well, you made short work of the Senator. What did he
want?"

 "I suppose something about the Davis bill. But he put me
off with small stuff. Talked about General Banks speculating
in cotton and the chance of Banks getting into the Cabinet."
She watched Lincoln as she said this, but he made no sign. "I
told him he and I agreed about Banks, so that was all right.
Then it seems that Stanton doesn't give Fred Douglass his
commission and Sumner fears Douglass may make trouble
with the Abolitionists for you. I remarked that Mr. Sumner
was probably pleased at that prospect and he looked pained.
Then before he could start arguing, I asked him how Alice
Hooper was. He said they left to-day and asked me at once
if I agreed with her that the office of Senator was too small
for his powers. I said that I did and he groaned that he was
surprised at the lack of vision in women of our intelligence.
Good for Alice, thought I. But aloud I bade him
good-night. He's tired, poor fellow. Well, you're rid of him,
to-night, anyhow."

 But as it turned out, Lincoln was not rid of him. Seward, his
pale face beaded with heat, his necktie as usual under one
ear, rushed in as they were at dessert. Maximilian, Napoleon's
man, had reached Mexico City, and MacDougall of California
was clamoring for passage of a bill declaring war on France.

 "Bob," said Lincoln, "you go fetch Senator Sumner. He'll
have to bury MacDougall again. Seward, you go home to bed.
You look like Hamlet's ghost."

 "Bedl You make me laugh for the first time in a week,
Lincolnl Give me something to eat, there's a dear, won't you,
Taddie7 We don't want bed on an empty stomach, do we?"

 They fed him. He talked constantly as he ate but consented
to go home and let the President deal with Sumner. The
Senator was in a committee conference and came late. He
made short work of promising to silence MacDougall, then he
asked Lincoln what he proposed to do with the Davis bill.
Lincoln refused to be drawn. Sumner, nervously overwrought,
walked the floor and harangued. Lincoln, leaning back against
the window

362 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

frame where a rose-scented breeze touched him now and
again, heard the Senator's voice more and more remotely.
Gradually the tall form in black dinner clothes seemed to
merge into the black and white of the slave map behind him.
He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them,
an hour later, Sumner was gone.

 Lincoln rose the next morning with the Davis bill taking
precedence over every other anxiety. Congress was to
adjourn that day. They were leaving scant time to study it in
its final form. As soon as possible after examining his
morning mail, he went up to the Capitol as was customary
for the President on the last day of the Session. Bob and
John Hay accompanied him in the barouche. It was a heavy
sultry day. Small boys added firecrackers to the confusion of
the streets. People had hung out flags on Pennsylvania
Avenue but in general there was little heart for celebrating
the Fourth of July.

 Lincoln took a peep at the Senate Chamber before going
to the President's office in the same wing. Chaos reigned
among the Senators. Several important new bills had been
thrust before the body this last morning. Old bills of equal
importance still were under debate. Sweating pages rushed
up and down. Anxious-eyed engrossing clerks ran about
carrying long sheets of parchment for which they were
demanding the signature of the Speaker, the Vice President,
the Clerk.

 No one gave special heed to the President and he was
grateful. After one look at the Senate he was glad to
withdraw to his own quarters. He seated himself at the
handsome rosewood desk beside an open window that gave
a wide view of sprawling, half-finished Washington an ugly
town, he thought, conceived as a city and born as a village
without the compactness that gave a village character. Little
trees with whitewashed trunks, pigs rooting about them.
Pasture lots deep with weeds masquerading as suburban
plots. There was something shabby and full of sham about
the place. Springfield was much prettier.

 John divided himself between the House and the Senate.
Bob arranged the bills on the desk and slid them one by one
under his father's hand. Lincoln was familiar with most of
them and after an identifying glance wrote his signature
firmly. It was about 1 l o'clock when, after a whispered
conference with John Hay, Bob laid the Davis bill before
him.

Lincoln stared down at it.

 Weeks before he had decided to give it a pocket veto. Yet,
in spite of long hours of preparation for it, he found that the
act took a supreme effort of will. After all, he told himself,
it was bitter hard for a man of his friendly nature to be
obliged to do continually these things which roused a frenzy
of hatred in men of a fine and ardent patriotism. He knew
that under all the confusion, the members of Congress and
the visitors in the gallery were concentrating their desires,
their prayers, on his signing this bill. He knew that a group
of pages just without his door were poised like carrier
pigeons, ready to wing with news of his decision to the
Senate

THE POCKET VETO 363

and the House. Ben Wade's page was there and Lyman
Trumbull's and Sumner's and Davis' and the faithful Arnold's
messenger.

 He laid the bill gently to one side and went on with others.
Bob bit his lip and John Hay gave a satisfied grunt. Several
members of the Cabinet drifted into the room and seated
themselves, waiting. Sumner entered and stood by the
window, pale with anxiety. But no one ventured to question
the President until Zachariah Chandler came in. This gentle-
man, who respected nobody's dignity of office, bluntly
demanded of the President:

"Mr. Lincoln, are you going to sign the Davis bill?"

  Lincoln took off his spectacles and looked mildly up into
Chandler's belligerent eyes as he replied:

  "This bill has been placed before me only a few moments
before Congress adjourns. It's a matter of too much
importance to be swallowed that way."

  "If it's vetoed," cried Chandler, "the Republican party'll be
fearfully damaged! Especially as to the point prohibiting
slavery in the reconstructed States."

  Lincoln shook his head. "That's the point on which I doubt
the authority of Congress to act."

  "It's no more than you've done yourself," exclaimed
Chandler indignantly.

  Lincoln answered with great care. "I conceive that I may in
an emergency do things on military grounds which can't be
done constitutionally by Congress."

  "This is a fearful calamity," ejaculated Chandler. "Your
attitude is fatall Fatall" He rushed from the room.

  Sumner, with a look of unutterable reproach at Lincoln,
strode after Chandler. The President turned to Seward and
Fessenden.

  "I don't see how any of us now," he remarked, "can
contradict what we've always said, that Congress has no
constitutional power over slavery in the States."

  To Lincoln's surprise, "sour old Fessenden" exclaimed,
"You're absolutely right, Mr. Presidentl I've even had doubts
of the constitutional efficacy of your own decree of
emancipation where it hasn't been carried into effect by the
actual advance of the army."

  The room was full now and Lincoln observed that most of
the faces crowded behind the Cabinet chairs were flushed
with anger. He tried to marshal his thoughts of the past three
months and reduce them to the simplest English at his
command. He was determined not to be misunderstood.

  "The bill and the position of these gentlemen in asserting
that the insurrectionary States are no longer in the Union
seem to me to make the fatal admission that States, whenever
they please, may of their own motion dissolve their
connection with the Union. Now, we cannot survive that
admission, I am convinced. If that be true, I am not
President, you gentle

364 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

men are not Congress. I have laboriously endeavored to
avoid that question ever since it first began to be mooted
and thus to avoid confusion and disturbance in our own
councils. It was to obviate this question that I earnestly
favored the movement for an amendment to the
Constitution abolishing slavery which passed the Senate last
year and Filed in the House. I thought it much better if it
were possible to restore the Union without the necessity of
a violent quarrel among its friends as to whether certain
States have been in or out of the Union during the War, a
merely metaphysical question and one unnecessary to be
forced into the discussion."

 He rose as he finished and bowing, left the office. John
Hay followed. When they reached the carriage, Lincoln
missed Bob. John explained that the young man was making
a hurried tour of the two Houses.

 "Looking for trouble," commented Lincoln with a little
shake of his head.

 "They're all so shortsighted," said John Hay, pulling at his
tiny mustache in a knowing mannerl "People at large aren't
interested in the abstruse questions involved."

 "If the Radicals try, I don't doubt they can do me harm
with the veto," replied Lincoln. "But at all events, I must
keep some consciousness of being somewhere near right. I
must keep some standard or principle fixed within myself.
Here comes Bob, mad clean through! Jings, he looks like his
motherl Well, boy, had a good time?"

 Bob sank into the seat opposite his father, his lips actually
trembling with anger. "Davis is making a speech about you,
waving his arms like a crazy man and talking like one, too.
He ought to be sued for slander for the things he said."

 "What did you listen for, Bobbie?" asked Lincoln, patting
the checked linen knee that touched his own.

 "I just wanted to measure the depth of his hatred," replied
Bob. "And I'd heard him through if Senator Sumner hadn't
come up and taken me away. He wanted my opinion on a
letter he'd had speaking of the negro's opinion of
emancipation or he said he did. Maybe he was just trying
to save me further humiliation. And do you know," with a
sudden smile, "he said that if he had your political gifts he'd
be Emperor of the world. It was the nearest to a joke I've
ever heard from him."

 "He wasn't joking! You flatter himl" declared John Hay.
"Did you see the pantaloons he was wearing this morning,
Bob? They were silk, by Jove, like the lilac checked stuff
your mother wears. I dare you to ask him if he has his
clothes made by Lizzie Keckley."

 Both young men roared with laughter and Lincoln joined
them. After all it was a relief to have committed the murder
since it had to be done.

 But there was no use pretending to himself that he could
bring any philosophy to bear on the fool; with which Sumner
had left him. He could not endure with any sort of
equanimity the thought of the Senator leaving for the
summer with bitterness in his heart against him. He seldom
acted

THE POCKET VETO 365

on impulse, but now as they plowed through the dusty road
before Congressman Hooper's house, he called suddenly to
the coachman:

"Burke, leave me here and take the two boys home."

"Nol Nol" protested John Hay. "We'll walk and leave the
carriage for

you."

  "I don't want my rig recognized in front of here," said
Lincoln decidedly. "I'll walk back, myself," and he strode up
to the door.

  The servant showed him into the long drawing room,
draped for the summer closing, but cool and dim and
smelling of rose jars newly filled. Alice Hooper, in a ruffled
white dimity, her golden hair caught back in a black net,
came in at once. She moved down the room like a naval
sloop with all sails set, to greet the President standing in the
window.

  "Mr. Lincoln, this is very kind of yout We have only just
finished dinner. May I not "

  Lincoln bowed over her hand and interrupted with his fine
smile. "No, dear Mrs. Hooperl Mrs. Lincoln will expect me
and my business won't take long. I've come to ask a favor of
you."

  He seated her close to the shuttered window. Through the
open slats came little hot drafts from the garden and he
placed himself opposite her where he might share the breeze,
for he felt suddenly oppressed.

  "I've just come from the Capitol, Mrs. Hooper. I have given
the Davis bill a pocket veto and thereby finally cooked my
goose with the Radicals. I say finally, but I still have hopes of
mollifying Charles Sumner."

  "Through me?" asked Alice, her blue eyes twinkling. "But,
Mr. President, I'm busy quarreling with him myselfl He's due
here any time to finish a debate we began yesterday."

"Seriously7" asked Lincoln, his own eyes twinkling.

  "Well, the Senator takes it seriously. And I'm certain he'd
take any championing of you in regard to this pocket veto as
a personal affront. He might even wish to fight a duel about
itl" She laughed, softly.

  "Of course, I don't want to injure the Senator's chances,"
began the President jocosely, "but "

  "But," Alice took him up, soberly, "as a matter of fact both
father and I would be glad to help you, Mr. Lincoln. What
may I try to do as to the Senator?"

  "Do you allow him to talk politics to you now7" asked
Lincoln, running his fingers violently through his hair, then
clasping his knee tensely.

  "Mrs. Lincoln persuaded me to be less adamant there,"
laughing again and again sobering quickly to add, "I enjoy
politics, as a matter of fact."

  "Do you think you could persuade Mr. Sumner to take no
active part in calling another convention and nominating
another Republican candidate until after the Democratic
convention next month7 Mrs. Hooper, if the Democrats
nominate McClellan on a peace platform, if our military
outlook continues black, if the Republican party is split by
internal dissensions, McClellan will go into the White House
next year and all will be lost." He paused to see if she had
taken in his statement.

366 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

"Yesl Yesl I see," she said, shaking her pretty head anxiously.

 Lincoln thought he could begin to understand Sumner's
fascination. "1 know what Sumner will say. He'll say that if
I'd withdraw the Republican party could unite on some one.
When he says that, you tell him that if, after the Democrats
have nominated McClellan on a peace platform, the leaders
of the Republican party can agree on any one man who can
be surer of beating McClellan at the polls next November
than I, I'll withdBW."

The effect of this last sentence on his hearer was astonishing.

 She leaned forward and with great deliberation placed a
slender hand over Lincoln's clasped knuckles. "No," she said,
quietly, "I'll deliver no such message to Charles Sumnerl I
haven't enough confidence in his common sense. I'm not
going to be the one to jeopardize your tenure of office that
way. Why, Mr. Lincoln," rising suddenly, "I'm surprised at
youl Lack of vanity may be as serious a fault as arrogance.
Don't you know that? And you are the friend to the Union
in these United States. I'm descended from men who died in
creating that Union . . . I'll deliver no such message."

 Lincoln was singularly touched. Here was the woman
whom he had always found cold and snobbish speaking with
an understanding loyalty that was all the more remarkable in
a woman when one realized that her loyalty was impersonal.
For he knew as well as though she had said it that his kind
of man had no appeal for her. It was a real triumph of mind
over matterl And it healed some of the hurts he'd felt that
day.

 He rose with her and walked over to the mantel, looked
into the Chinese dragon jar and with his paper knife stirred
up the rose leaves with which it was filled, then turned back
to the slender white figure still standing by the window.

 "You have confidence in my political common sense, have
you, Mrs. Hooper7" he asked.

 She tapped her lips thoughtfully with the little silk fan that
dangled from her wrist, then a smile broke through her
anxiety.

 "Even Charles Sumner has thatl He often sighs in envy of
your riches in that direction."

 "Then," very earnestly and walking toward her again, "trust
that possession of mine enough to go ahead and do what I
ask you."

 She was really troubled, but Lincoln held her gaze and
would not let it go and after a moment of staring at his
sunken, weary, and very tender blue grey eyes, she sighed
and capitulated.

 "I'll do what I can, Mr. Lincoln. The Senator's not a simple
person, you know and apropos of this conversation in
general, I have a great and affectionate respect for him."

 "So have I," agreed Lincoln. "And I thank you for well,
for this conversation, Mrs. Hooper. You've cheered me on
my way. And now I've got to make tracks for home." He
bowed again over her hand and without waiting for the
servant to show him to the door, he hurried out into the

THE POCKET VETO 367

burning heat. Charles Sumner was just turning in from the
sidewalk. The two men lifted their hats and bowed without a
word. Then Lincoln made his way to his belated dinner and
the Senator went on into the house.

 Alice met him in the hall. "Ah, Senator, you met the
Presidentl" giving him her hand.

 He clasped it in both his, released it and said, "I did not
speak to him. I dared not let myself. He turned chaos loose
on the Republican party to-day."

 "Come in and tell me about it, SenatorI" leading the way
into the drawing room. "You caret have dined. Let me send
for some sandwiches and a glass of wine."

 His sober face lightened at this touch of kindliness. "Thank
you, Alicel I was afraid you'd be leaving for Boston on the
early boat so I came here direct from the Senate chamber.
Lincoln has ditched the Davis bill."

 She rang for a tray to be brought, then gave her attention
to Sumner's account of the pocket veto. When he had
finished, she toyed with her fan for a moment, then told him
what she knew he was eager to know, the reason for the
President's call.

 He was much agitated by the recital. "Do you mean, Alice,
do you actually mean that you're giving me that message with
any desire of your own that I'll agree7"

"I told Mr. Lincoln I didn't want to deliver it," said Alice.

"Ahl" in a tone of relief, "then you don't wish me to agreel"

 "But why don't you want to do what he says, dear Senator7"
She patted the sofa beside her. "Now you've finished your
lunch, come here and we won't have to shout."

 He obeyed with alacrity. "I don't agree because he's so
diabolically clever. I haven't the remotest idea of what he's
trying to do."

 "He's trying to save the Union," said Alice, "first, last and
always. He's as utterly beyond selfish motives as you are.
You're the two biggest men I shall ever know, even if I were
to be fortunate enough to live in the diplomatic circle of
England. It's too bad that Mr. Lincoln can't compete with you
in those little elegancies of manner and speech that every
woman delights in."

 Sumner smiled down at her, the irritated and anxious lines
smoothed from his face as if she actually had laid her delicate
hand on them. "And why don't you want to deliver the
message to me, dear Alice7"

 "The saddest thing in our history to-day," she said in a low
voice, "is that Charles Sumner and Abraham Lincoln are not
in agreement. I am very jealous of your futurel I feared that
you'd misunderstand the message and that it would serve only
to drive you two farther apart."

 He scowled a little and folding his arms on his breast sat in
heavy thought. Little Isabella's voice floated down from
upstairs. There was a sound of heavy objects being moved.
Alice sat in unusual patience. Finally Sumner said

368 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "If we have a bad war summer, it will be difficult to find
any one to beat McClellan, if he's nominated."

"Could you beat him?" asked Alice.

"I7 No, Alice, I've too many political enemies in my own
camp."

"Who could beat McClellan7" she urged.

 "Only some man that the entire Republican party could
agree on," he replied, dejectedly.

 "Senator, I've hurt you often when I've teased you over
your absorption in politics. And I'm sorry about that
because I'm really trying to learn not so much politics as
statesmanship. Do forgive me enough to explain what would
be the result if you agree with Mr. Lincoln's proposal.
Wouldn't there be a chance that you'd have him on the hip
and be rid of him7"

"Yes, certainly," answered Sumner.

 "Then he's willing to take a bigger risk than you are7 Oh,
don't let him do thatl I don't want you to lag one
microscopic dot behind himI" She looked up into his face
pleadingly.

"Are you trying to influence me, Alice7" he demanded,
sternly.

 "Yes, I am, Senatorl I am sincere and I'm in earnest. I
want you to accede to the President's request because I
think it's the most statesmanlike thing for you to do."

 Sumner moved uneasily and again sat pondering. Then he
said, "Never in my life have I been bribed. Any request of
this sort from you to me is a sort of bribe because I care so
much about your good opinion. Even at that, if this were a
question of principle with me, I could hold out against you.
But I'm honestly puzzled which way to go, and so for a few
weeks I'll agree to go as you suggest. I'll wait to see just how
farsighted the President is."

 "Now, that is my idea of wisdom and fairness!" exclaimed
Alice. "And since you've been such a good little boy, I'm not
going to leave until the night boat and you are going to
forget all the world of politics and war and play with
Isabella and me. We'll go for a picnic supper out to Rock
Creek Grovel"

 "The world forgetting and by the world forgot!" ejaculated
Sumner, rising and offering Alice both his hands.

 She accepted them and rose with a smile of such
sweetness that his pale, tired face flushed like a youth's.

                CHAPTER XV
           TBE REBEL rfAVERSACK

T INCOLN did not hear from Alice Hooper again nor did he
see Sumner before he left for Boston. He had not expected
either event. He ~ could only wait for results. The
newspaper reports on his reasons for the pocket veto, in
spite of his efforts at clarity, were not satisfactory. He was
resolved that this should not be so and on the 8th of July he
issued a short proclamation giving a copy of the Davis bill
and reiterating his stand upon the method of reconstruction
it contained. That done, he felt satisfied to leave the matter
to the common understanding.

 The family migrated to the Soldiers' Home the morning
after the Fourth. On the 6th, Stanton hurried into Lincoln's
office and peremptorily ordered him to bring his family back
to town.

 "Early crossed the Potomac at Shepherdstown yesterday
and levied $zo,ooo on Hagerstown," said the Secretary in
reply to Lincoln's protest. "He'll be in front of Washington
this week if General Wallace can't hold him. Hunter's asleep
somewhere west of Winchester. Can't possibly help. I'm
going to put a lookout station at the top of your house at
the Soldiers' Home. It commands the best view to the north.
By God, you shall not stay out there under Early's guns, Mr.
Lincolnl" Stanton wiped the sweat from his spectacles with
an enormous silk handkerchief.

 "Tutl Tutl Keep your shirt tucked in, Mr. Stantonl We'll
come back! What does Grant say7" Lincoln spoke anxiously
but without Stanton's excitement.

 "Grant thinks I'm a panicky old woman. You'll have to
work on him yourself. Tell him he's got to get some fighting
men up here. I've telegraphed the Governors of six States to
send us militia, but Earlyll be here before the militia arrives,
mark my wordsl If Early frees the Cocoon Rebel prisoners
at Point Lookout, hell will be popping here in forty-eight
hours."

 "I'll wire Grant, Mr. Stanton." Lincoln rose to follow the
Secretary to the War Office. "Keep the news as quiet as you
can. Panic won't help the city."

 "Panic might help Grant," growled Stanton. "He's started
one division of the Sixth Corps to Baltimore by boat. That's
s,ooo men, and 3,ooo cavalry of which ~,soo are sick. Early
has 3o,ooo men. Grant's drunk or crazy."

 "He's neitherI" snapped Lincoln. "He's a man harassed
even as you and I. I'll wire him something that'll get him
going."

 His protest to Stanton was stout enough yet not wholly
stoutl Lincoln had more faith in Grant than in any military
leader the war had developed,

37oWITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

but the past three years had deprived him of the power to
feel full confidence in any man. Moreover he had a theory
that there was no drinking man who under a heavy strain
was not liable to get drunk at a crucial moment.

 He sent the little General a strong dispatch and made
Stanton and Halleck wire to him also. Then he sent a
summons out to the Home for Mary to come back to the
White House. Mary, somewhat more irritated than alarmed,
did not alleviate his general uneasiness by a conversation
she held with him that evening. They sat in the kitchen
garden. It was Lincoln's idea that they would here be free of
callers. The night was steaming hot with a thunder storm
threatening.

 "Fred Douglass came to see me to-day. He's a smart
rigger," began Mary.

 "How did he happen to visit your" asked Lincoln, with the
old wish that Mary would keep out of this kind of politics.

 "Senator Sumner sent him to see if I could hurry up the
commission you said you'd try to get him. Are you going to
give it to him, Abra'm?"

 The President chewed meditatively on a stalk of pie plant.
"I've had to put it up to Stanton. If Douglass comes to you
again, bring him to me. While he's waiting for Stanton, I'll
get him to go down to Fortress Monroe and set his scouts
at work again. We are in awful straits for soldiers. I've got
to issue a call for 500~000 more men. Seems as though I
couldn't stand it."

 "He's in no mood toward the Administration now to be
sent on any such errand," protested Mary. "And he's very
cross with General Butler. Did you know Butler is really
blackmailing Grant? Grant wants to get rid of Butler and
doesn't dare."

 "I don't believe itl" shouted Lincoln angrily. Then he
added apologetically, "Not but what Ben Butler is capable of
trying it."

 But Mary gave no sign of offence.. She was worried and
merely said, "Well, you'll seer" in the tone that always
irritated her husband; it so frequently accompanied a true
prophecy!

"I'll see what, my dears" he asked.

 "Well," veering as she so often did when crowded to
another topic, "you'll see that Grant won't come up here
and take personal command of this chance to destroy 3o,ooo
Rebels."

 "Good Lordl How'd you learn about that7" He jerked
around on the bench to stare at the diminutive figure beside
him.

 "I went over to see Secretary Stanton about Douglass
to-day and he boiled over to me. Why don't you put your
foot down with Grant, Abra'm7" She sounded a little
excited.

 "I wrote Grant to provide to retain his hold where he is,
then bring the rest of his forces personally and make a
vigorous effort to destroy the Rebel forces around here. But
I also told him it was a suggestion, not an order. I'm not
smart enough to give orders to Grant."

"But you arel" Mary almost screamed at him.

THE REBEL HAVERSACK 371

 Lincoln gave a low laugh. "You do have a tough row to hoe
in running this war, don't you, darling Mary?"

 She giggled. "It would be simple enough if I could control
youl . . . The gnats are eating me up."

 "I knew callers of some kind would drive us out of herel"
said Lincoln, rising and pulling Mary to her feet. "Though the
gnats are better than the Temperance women I had with me
to-day."

 "I suppose the Rebels think they'll get you, if they get
Washington," said Mary, uneasily, as they started for the
house.

"Maybe they'll be satisfied just to steal Halleck," remarked
Lincoln.

 "Oh, my dear, nothing so unimportant! Taking Halleck
couldn't be considered, even by the North, more than petty
larceny," and she laughed at her own tart wit.

 Mary's inexplicable intuition proved correct. Grant did not
come to Washington. On the 8th, frightened folk began to
pour into the town from the north. The Rebels were
approaching Rockville and Silver Springs. With their arrival
the carefully guarded news broke and Washington went
panic. Every one that could fled to Baltimore, but in a few
hours this route was closed by the Rebels. The male
population of the city was hurriedly armed and sent to
reinforce the scant number of soldiers holding the
surrounding forts. Bob, without saying a word to his mother,
joined the defense of Fort Stevens just north of the Soldiers'
Home. Tad, however, boasting of Bob's bravery, gave the boy
away and every one was surprised but Lincoln when Mary
tossed her head and said:

"Of course he's gone! The Todds were all military men."

 "And Bob's father killed mosquitoes in the Black Hawk
War," added the President.

 Early was putting the torch to the farms and crops of
Maryland. He had laid Frederick under requisition for
$zoo,ooo. He had defeated General Wallace and was within
a day's march of Washington. Still no help came from Grant,
although he wired that the remainder of the Sixth Corps had
left for Washington on the 8th.

 On the evening of the 1oth, Early's guns fired on the
northern defences of the city.

 "It's no credit to Grant that Richmond's safe while
Washington's in danger," remarked Mary on the afternoon of
the 11th as she came into Lincoln's office with a glass of
buttermilk.

 Lincoln turned on her sternly. "Mary, if you think this
continual jabbing at Grant helps me or the Union cause,
you're mistaken. If you can tell me something good to do, tell
me. If not, stop this impotent slashing."

"I'm sorry, Abratm," said Mary, meekly.

Lincoln set down the glass of milk and stared at her. "Are
you sick7"

 Mary began to laugh. "Both of us are out of character, you,
cross, and I, humbler Have you heard from the Sixth Corps7"

As if in answer to her query, Tad, who had been standing at
the win

372 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

dow with the telescope, suddenly dropped the instrument
with a shout. "Pete's given me the signal. The vetewans have
comer"

Lincoln seized his straw hat and followed Tad.

  The city was strangely silent. The streets were half
deserted. Store windows along Pennsylvania Avenue were
boarded up. A great barricade of cord wood cut off Twelfth
Street on the north side. At the intersection of Seventh
Street and the Avenue, a crowd had gathered. Lincoln did
not try to pierce it. He lifted Tad to his shoulder and
together they looked over the heads of the people.

  Up Seventh Street from the wharf was marching a line of
soldiers with a single drummer at its head. As the tanned
and seasoned veterans of many battles appeared, the crowd
broke into cheers. "The Sixthl The Sixthl Go get 'em boysl"
Lincoln stayed to watch several regiments pass, his heart
growing lighter with every sturdy boot thud. Good old
Granti He'd sent his bestl Then, although Tad protested at
his haste he returned to relieve Mary's anxiety.

  The proximity of battle he found curiously exhilarating. It
gratified him to discover that he was not frightened. On the
contrary, the next day he tried to slip away for a visit to Fort
Stevens, but Mary caught him just as he was seating himself
in the carriage. She sat down resolutely beside him.

"Mary, this is absurd!" he exclaimed.

  Mary unfurled her little lilac carriage shade and cocked it
over her bonnet. "If you and Bob get shot, Tad and I want
to be also."

"But where is Tad7" exclaimed Lincoln.

  Mary's lips quivered and Lincoln now observed that she
was pale and that her eyes were dilated. "I've just learned
that he left in his goat cart for Fort Stevens, several hours
ago. I thought he was at Pete Kelley's house, but Pete went
along as Taddie's aide. I don't mind telling you," her voice
breaking, "that Tad's going to get a spanking."

  "Nobody's going to let harm come to the little fellow,
Mary," said Lincoln, more stoutly than he felt, however. And
he made no further protests against her accompanying him.

  They reached the Fort two hours later, having had to drive
round the trenches dug across the various roads from the
north. They found Stanton's carriage drawn up before the
Fort and Secretary Stanton arguing with a man in colonel's
uniform as to the propriety of a civilian visiting the Fort at
that moment. When Mary and the President descended from
the phaeton and joined Stanton the officer threw up his
hands in horror.

"But Colonel," cried Mary, "I came for my little boy,
Taddiel"

  "We sent him back to the White House an hour ago with
a guard, Madam President," the Colonel told her. "One of
his hounds got killed by a stray bullet from a Rebel
sharpshooter. He insisted on taking the little brute back in
his cart. He and his freckled friend and the goats and six
privates with a sergeant made quite a funeral cortege."

"JingsI" ejaculated Lincoln. '~Vhat'll he do next? My son
Robert here?"

"We sent the Home Guards back for city duty as soon as the
regulars

THE REBEL HAVERSACK 373

got here, Mr. Lincoln," replied the ofllcer, moving uneasily.
"And now, Mrs. Lincoln, allow me to show you back to your
carriage. This is only a little lull in hostilities. We've been
under fire all the morning."

 "But I want to see the Fort under fire," protested Mary.
"Look, you've got some more visitors," as a handsome span
of horses appeared drawing a surrey.

"My Godl" groaned the Colonel.

 Lincoln slipped away and entered the inner works. Shortly
he reached the gun emplacements where, unheeded in the
confusion, he mounted a parapet. The Fort lay on the crest
of a low range of hills. In the valley below, a line of blue
coats advanced toward smoking hills opposite. Minie balls
began to sing over the Fort. A Sergeant standing near
Lincoln grunted and sank to his knees. The President hardly
heeded him. He was watching the line of soldiers. It was like
sitting at a play.

 Suddenly a great mass of Rebels rushed from behind
bushes into the road to the north. The Fort guns opened fire
on them at once. Empty spaces appeared in the Rebel ranks.
Perhaps ten minutes of this and the Rebel line had been
wiped out. Silence reigned except for distant rifle fire. Some
one grasped the President firmly by the ankle. A young Lieu-
tenant was looking up into his face.

 "Sirl" he cried, his very lips blanched, "unless you come
down at once, I shall be obliged to bring a file of soldiers to
remove you, though you are my superior officerl I've just
forced Mrs. Lincoln to retire from bullet range."

 "Jingsl" exclaimed Lincoln, "I thought she was back there
with Secretary Stanton and the Colonel I reckon the kindest
thing I can do for you fellows is to take myself and my
family, official and otherwise, out of herel How does the
attack go?"

 "They're in full retreat. This is only the Rebel rear guard
protecting the movement," replied the young officer. "You
will go back now, Mr. Lincoln?"

"Yes, of course, my boyl What State do you hail from?"

 "I'm from Pennsylvania. Drop your head below the range
of those Minie balls, sir," as Lincoln started to cross the open
parade.

 Lincoln ducked his head obediently. "All rightl" he laughed.
"I'm leaving!"

 He found his wife and the Secretary in a place of
comparative safety under a south abatis. "They're falling
backl" he told them.

 "Thank the kind Fatherl" ejaculated Stanton. "I'm going
home to get some sleep. Mrs. Lincoln, don't be cross with
me," leading the way to a point where they could beckon for
the carriages which were sheltered in a little wood.

 "But I am cross," resumed Mary. "If you continue to be
obdurate about giving Douglass that appointment I shall turn
as ferocious as you at your worst."

374 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

  Stanton laughed and Mary exclaimed, "Oh, you menl I'd
like to run this government for ten minutes."

  "You're not the only one who wants to run things not in
your own department," exclaimed Stanton, pulling his black
beard with sudden grimness. "Postmaster General Blair is all
out of patience with us too."

  "What have we done now?" asked the President, his eyes
on the efforts of Burke to bring the horses out from the
shelter of the wood. The heavy blanket of smoke that lay
over trees and buildings was as frightening to the poor
beasts as the crack of the Parrotts.

Stanton replied with his familiar note of irritation.

  "It's a damnable shame the way Postmaster General Blair
is permitted to talk about the army. He's going about now
telling everybody that the officers in Washington are
poltroons. He means Halleck and me, the cowardl He's
been my consistent enemy ever since I entered the Cabinet,
as you well know, Lincoln. You've simply got to dismiss
him."

"Mr. Lincolnl" said Mary quietly. Stanton ignored her.

  Lincoln took off his soft grey hat and fanned himself with
it. He was very tired of the bickering of Stanton and Blair
and their unceasing efforts to oust each other from the
Cabinet. "On that kind of an order I'm like a woman Speed
told me about years ago," he began.

  Stanton muttered impatiently, but the President went on,
while Burke, who had now driven up, held the prancing
horses with difficulty.

  "A little lady was sitting in a train when a man with a
wooden leg took the empty seat beside her and started to
talk. He informed her that at one time he had been the
proud possessor of a mechanical leg. All he had to do was
to wind it up and set the size of step and she'd carry him
round all day. One day not long before, he happened in his
travels to come to a fine clear pool of water in a creek and
he took off his clothes, unbuckled his wooden leg, and went
in swimming."

  "Good God, Lincolnl" ejaculated Stanton as the rumble of
battle began again in the northern hills. "Let's get homer"

  The President went on solemnly and without moving while
Mary gazed stoically on the rearing horses, though her eyes
twinkled.

  Yt happened that a raccoon came down to drink while he
was in the water. Now a raccoon is a very curious animal.
He got interested at once in the wooden leg and what with
his sniffing and poking he set the mechanism off and the leg
got up and began to run across the prairies. The man yelled
and started hopping on his single leg after it. But he'd
hardly gone a mile when his single poor old leg got caught
in a prairie dog hole and broke. There he was helpless till
a tin peddler with a cart came along and rescued him. He
never did hear of his mechanical leg again. Now all the
while the man was telling this story, the lady kept smiling, so
he felt encouraged to add at the end that he was taking up
a collection to buy him a new patented leg and would the
lady give him a dollar toward it. The lady, still smiling,
opened her pocketbook and took out a card which

THE REBEL HAVERSACK 375

she handed to the man. The card read, 'I am deaf and dumb
and would be glad for a contribution toward an ear
trumpets'"

 With a great laugh, Lincoln offered his arm to Mary and
started toward the carriage. But Stanton was outraged.

 "What sort of an answer is that, on an occasion like thisl
Do you call it dignified, Mr. Lincoln?"

 The President paused. "I can be harsh if you prefer it, Mr.
Stanton," he said tersely. "Blair's house was burned by the
Rebels the other day because we had no help to send him. I
don't know whether he said those things or not but it's
improbable. If they were said, I don't approve of them, but
under the circumstances, I wouldn't dismiss a member of the
Cabinet for them. Besides this, I propose continuing to be
myself a judge as to when a member of the Cabinet shall be
dismissed."

 Stanton bit his lip, bowed, and entered his own carriage.
The President chuckled at intervals all the way home.

 Pete Kelley, with a black rag round his hat, met them at the
gates of the White House. He was dust from head to foot.
His blue eyes were dark with weariness and excitement. He
stood on the step of the carriage and delivered his message.

 "Lieutenant Lincoln says you're to come straight up to his
room. Pensacola's got shot, but Tad ain't cried a tear. Tad
and I washed him clean in the bathroom."

 When they reached the house, they both obediently
followed the child up the stairs. Taddie's sorrows were not to
be treated lightly. The late afternoon sun filled Tad's
bedroom with rose colon Taddie, his linen suit incredibly
soiled, his chestnut hair in moist ringlets, his cheeks Bushed
under the crust of sweated dust, stood beside the bed leaning
dejectedly on a rifle. On the bed lay the little hound dog,
unwontedly white as to hair, a bandage round his chest. His
head was pillowed on a wreath of Mary's choicest roses.
Sumter sat beside Tad dejectedly scratching fleas.

 As his father dropped his hand on his shoulder, Tad looked
up. "Ev'ything of Willie's is dead now," he said, his cheeks
quivering.

 "Except mother and Bob and you and me," said his father.
"Well, I reckon he's wagging his little tail off in heaven now."

 Tad looked up into his face. "Do you suppose he's found
Willie, already?"

 "Sure he hasl" exclaimed Pete Kelley. "He'd find Willie, if't
he was in hell."

 "Well, he isn't in hell, you di'ty skunkl" shouted Tad, "not
eitha' of theml"

 Lincoln looked helplessly at his wife who had been eyeing
the scene through tear dimmed eyes. She spoke in a carefully
practical voice.

 "Have you arranged for his casket, boys? You'd better go
down to the steward and ask him for an empty box. I'll give
you a piece of my old white velvet cape to line it with and
you'd better work quickly so we can have the funeral right
after supper."

376 WITH MALICE: TOWARD NONE

 "Come on, Petel" exclaimed Tad. He placed his gun in a
corner and ran from the room.

 That evening, after little Pensacola had been laid to his
long rest, Tad came into his father's office and placed a
battered haversack on a letter the President had been
reading.

 "This is something to womemba' the we' by, Papa day," he
said. "The sa'gent got it off a webel that was shooting at
Fo't Stevens. It's to' you. Open it up."

 Lincoln obeyed and emptied on the desk a jackknife, a
plug of twisted tobacco, a tin cup, and about two quarts of
coarsely cracked corn with a little salt tied in a rag. The
corn had been ground up with the cob.

 "The sa'geant said that's all the di'ty webels had to eat
now and a good thing too "

 Lincoln sifted the meal slowly through his fingers. "He was
a human being, Tad, exactly like you and me. Don't speak
of him so. And he had wonderful spunk to march all the
way from Richmond and fight on this horse fodder You'd
better go to bed now, my boy."

"Do you like the gift7" Tad asked, anxiously.

 "Liking doesn't express it," replied his father with a
twisted smile. "Give me a kiss, dear Tad and go, won't you?"

"I'll miss Pensacolal" said Tad, turning abruptly from the
room.

                CHAPTER XVI
            THE TANGLED BURDEN

T INCOLN, after a moment, lifted the haversack gently from
the letter I he had been reading and finished its excited
phrases. It was from ~ Greeley. "I venture to remind you
that our bleeding, bankrupt, almost dying country longs for
peace; shudders at the prospect of fresh conscriptions, of
further wholesale devastations and new rivers of blood. And
a widespread conviction that the Government and its
prominent supporters are not anxious for peace and do not
improve proffered opportunities to achieve it is doing great
harm now and is morally certain unless removed to do far
greater in the approaching elections.... I fear you do not
realize how intently the people desire any peace consistent
with the National integrity and honor.... I have information
on which I can rely that two persons duly commissioned and
empowered to negotiate for peace are at this moment not
far from Niagara Falls and are desirous of conferring with
yourself or such persons as you may appoint...."

 Lincoln rang the bell for John Hay. "John," he said, when
the young man appeared, "you remember I wrote Greeley
that if he had any peace envoys from Jeff Davis to bring
them here to see me that is if they had a proposition in
writing from Davis asking for peace on terms embracing the
restoration of the Union and abandonment of slavery. He's
ignored that reply of mine and has sent me another screed.
I want you to go to New York and see Mr. Greeley and
make him go with you to meet his commissioners. Tell him
that if they're qualified, I intend not only a sincere effort for
peace but I intend that he shall be a personal witness that
it's made."

 "But Greeley has nothing bona fide, Mr. Lincolnl He's just
a timid little editor!" exclaimed John.

 Lincoln nodded. "But he thinks he has something and we'll
make him do the investigating himself, which is exactly what
he won't want to do. You've a nice job there, Johul Get out
to-night, if you can. I think the road is clear up to
Baltimore. Early is retreating. The Sixth certainly got here
just by the skin of its teethl"

 He shook hands with the young man and turned back to
his desk to finish a message to General Grant. "In your
dispatch of yesterday to General Sherman, I find the
following, to wit: 'I shall make a desperate effort to get a
position here which will hold the enemy without the
necessity of so many men.' Pressed as we are by the lapse
of time, I am glad to hear you say this and yet I do hope
you may find a way that the effort shall not be desperate in
the sense of a loss of life."

He dropped his pen and stared at the haversack. Tad's
memento moved

378 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

him unaccountably If only the dreadful trouble would endl
If only he could be sure he wouldn't break before the finish
He jumped up and went over to the war map to move a
little to the southeast a pin which represented Sherman
headed for the Atlantic, that wild adventurer As for the
menace to Washington, that was over, but Grant must
somehow be made to send up a man right away who would
drive Early out of Maryland before his depredations there
equated those of Sherman in Georgia. Stanton had
suggested Sheridan. The thought of Stanton made him
frown. He went back to his desk and wrote a memorandum
for his Cabinet.

 "I must myself be the judge how long to retain in and
when to remove any one of you from his position. It would
greatly pain me to discover any of you endeavoring to
procure another's removal or in any way to prejudice him
before the public. Such endeavor would be a wrong to me
and much worse, a wrong to the country. My wish is that on
this subject no remark be made nor question asked by any
one of you here or elsewhere, now or hereafter."

 Mary came in as he finished this. He showed it to her with
the remark that it was a further moral from the tale he had
told Stanton that afternoon.

 Mary read the statement and smiled complacently. "You
really are becoming a tyrant, Abra'ml" Then she haled him
off to bed.

 It was a relief to have Congress not in session. Before it
convened again, he hoped to have Louisiana well on her
legs. Banks wrote that there never had been a better
constitution than the loyalists had just completed. It
embraced all the best points of the old one, and in addition
it abolished slavery, making negro suffrage optional with the
State legislature. It provided for an election of members to
Congress, early in September.

 It looked at first as though Lincoln's proclamation on the
Davis bill had served its purpose, at least as far as popular
acquiescence was concerned. He was relaxing his
watchfulness on the matter when he received a terrific jolt.
Ben Wade and Winter Davis published in the New York
Tribune a bitter manifesto concerning the pocket veto and
the President.

Lincoln brought the newspaper to Mary's room before
breakfast.

 "Look at thist" he exclaimed. "Just as I was loosening my
galluses a little bit, along comes thisl Nothing's hurt me so
much since I came to Washington."

Mary read the screed, then tossed it scornfully out the
window.

 "Well, I don't see why it should hurt you most of
anything," she remarked. "It's a horrid document, but it
doesn't say things that haven't been said hundreds of times
before. It says your attitude on reconstruction is based on
your desire to be elected, that it gives you a chance to hold
the electoral votes of the Rebel States at the dictation of
your personal ambition. They say your motives are sinister
and that you want to defeat the will of the people by
perverting the Constitution sickening balderdash! Why let
it sting, as you say to met"

THE TANGLED BURDEN 379

 "Because it does, Maryl I've done everything I can to make
Winter Davis my friend. I like the boy and I love his father.
And he's a Republican. This thing comes, remember, from
representatives of my own party. To be wounded in the house
of your friends is a grievous hurt, Mary."

 She came over to put her arm about him and rub her face
against his coat sleeve. "You're tired, Abra'm, or this
wouldn't rub you on the raw. I wish you could go away for a
few days."

- "I hope Charles Sumner didn't back it," said the
President.

 "He'll live to regret it, if he did," Mary proclaimed, stoutly.
"Can this do any real harm?"

 "I fear so," replied Lincoln. "It gives a head and a mouth to
the impatience of the Radicals with me. But I can do nothing
more to counteract that.n

 For days the sense of hurt clung to him, but his
preoccupation with the war gradually overset the pain. It
seemed to him during the next few weeks that he and Stanton
and Grant were the only people in the world who could see
an end to the war. The depression of the people shown by
their bitter criticism of himself and Grant hung about him
like an evil-smelling fog. He thought that Grant was affected
badly by the hostility, for the General seemed to lack his
usual eagerness and activity. He was the soldier of Shiloh, not
of Chattanooga. This was alarming. And when Lincoln
received a request from General Grant asking that General
Butler be demoted, he made a quiet trip to Fortress Monroe
and sent for Butler.

 Butler came in from camp, sunburned and, for once,
shabby. He seemed honestly glad to see the President, and
after supper they settled down for a talk. Butler had finished
the story of his terrible failure to take Petersburg and the two
men had sat in silence for some time watching the moon rise
over the black walls of the Fort before Lincoln asked the
question he had come down to ask.

"Butler, why do you work against Grant7"

 The General's camp chair creaked as he turned on Lincoln.
But the President put out a protesting hand.

 "For God's sake, General, let's talk without elocution! I like
you. I'm not down here to spy. I've come down to see if I
can't beguile you into upholding Grant's hands. You know as
well as I do you've no business to say Grant's a drunkard."

 "I never said so," declared Butler. "I never saw General
Grant take a glass of spirituous liquor in my life. I've seen
him drink wine at the dinner table but nowhere else. The
shoe's on the other foot, Mr. Lincoln. Grant's trying to get
rid of me. I tell you, this army needs me. And I tell you, both
you and Grant need the support I can give you from
Massachusetts and the other New England States."

 "The war needs the support you can give it," replied
Lincoln. "The peace party is almost out of hand. You know
you don't want Grant's job. You want to be free to return to
politics on short notice."

380 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

  "What do you meant" asked Butler, lighting a cigar with a
steady hand and showing his aquiline face in startlingly clear
profile.

  Lincoln was prepared for the question. "It's no secret, is
it, that a call has gone out for a new Presidential convention
next month. The feeling is that I can't be elected and the
Radical Republicans must have another ticket to save it
from complete overthrow. They say for the ticket, you and
Sumner or Sumner and Farragut. The men back of the call
are Chase, Davis, John Jay, Whitelaw Reid, Greeley, Bryant,
Sumner. You and Sumner ought to make a very strong run
together.... Well, you're all within your rights, I reckon. But
such being the case, why in the name of common sense and
General Jackson, don't you get off Grant's neck7"

  "Your political intelligence bureau is good but not
infallible, Mr. Lincoln," said Butler, puffing calmly. "I think
you're doing Sumner an injustice. I had a letter from him
yesterday. I'll just read you a paragraph." He drew a letter
from within the breast of his tunic and leaning forward so
that the light through the doorway fell on the sheet he read:
"'I do not see how anything can be done except through Mr.
Lincoln and with his good will. If he could see that
patriotism required his withdrawal, and could sincerely give
his countenance and support to a new candidate, I am sure
that the candidate of that convention, whoever he might be,
could be chosen. But any adverse proceeding would disaffect
him and his friends so as to destroy the unity of the party.
This unity must be had at all hazards and at every sacrifice.
If Mr. Lincoln does not withdraw, then all who now
disincline to him must come in to his support. I have
declined to sign any paper or take any part in any action
because I am satisfied nothing can be done except through
Mr. Lincoln and with his good

will.' a

  Butler finished his reading and returned to his previous
position in the shadow. Lincoln listened with mingled
feelings of gratification and chagrin Sumner's attitude
toward him hurt in spite of all the philosophy he could bring
to bear. He did not propose, however, for Butler to know
this.

  "He told me some of that months ago, but in what The
Baltimore Sun calls the scathing and withering style. When
he finished with me that time, I was struck blind and found
myself feeling with my fingers for my continued existence. A
little of the bone was left and I gradually revived. And here
I am."

  Butler stirred impatiently in his chair. "I was merely trying
to do Sumner justice with you, Mr. Lincoln," he said stiffly.

  "Oh, you've done thatl" The President's voice was bland.
"Even at the price of having to wade through the Senator's
cursed, unreadable, and ungodly handwriting!"

Butler suddenly laughed and relighted his cigar.

  Lincoln laughed too, then asked, quietly, "Caesar having
done all these things, as I've heard Bob translate his Latin
to his mother, why can't you leave Grant alone, General7"

"Hah! Let Grant leave me alonel" ejaculated Butler.

THE TANGLED BURDEN 381

 "General, go to himl Tell him all that's penned up inside
your heart and lock arms with him for the remainder of the
time you're in the Army. If you'll do this, I promise you, I'll
not lift a finger against your nomination and if you do win it,
I'll do everything in my power to help you."

"I'll go see General Grant to-morrow," declared Butler.

 "Then I reckon I can go back to Washington to-night with
an easier mind." Lincoln rose and put on the deerstalker's cap
he wore aboard the boat.

 He reached the White House late the next morning and the
following day received a dispatch from General Grant,
containing a withdrawal of the request for Butler's demotion.

 Bob, who had returned to his secretarial duties, brought the
dispatch to his father and said, "I didn't think Grant mixed in
politics."

 "He doesn't. Has too much sense and too hard a job. This
is some of Butler's back-alley calling," replied Lincoln,
reading the message with a sigh of relief. "I made Butler
straighten it out. Wish I could do the same thing by Winter
Davis and Lyman Trumbull."

 "Well, no one could call their methods of the back-alley
variety." Bob's voice was rueful. "What are you going to do to
counteract their thunder, father?"

 "Bob, I'm not going to do anything. My stock is so low over
the country that even a Papal Bull couldn't lower me, let
alone one from Davis. I was badly upset at first but I've
reached the point now where I feel like the man did whose
son had a scientific turn of mind. He bought the boy a
microscope. The youngster went round experimenting with his
glass on everything that came his way. One day, at dinner
table, his father took a piece of cheese. 'Don't eat that,
father,' said the boy, 'it's full of wigglers.' 'My son,' said the
old gentleman, taking a large bite, 'let 'em wiggle: I can stand
it if they cam"'

 Bob joined in his father's laughter, then said, seriously, "But
are you really discouraged about your reelection, fathers"

 Lincoln nodded his head. "The only thing that can reelect
me would be a 'return to slavery' plank in the Democratic
platform. Even Sumner would stand by me to defeat
that Are you glad to be through soldiering7"

 "Oh, of course, being a Home Guard isn't real soldiering!
But even at that I can go back to Harvard next month with a
fair amount of swagger." Bob smiled.

 "I may try to arrange with Grant to take you on when you
finish. Your mother's more reconciled than she was, I think,"
taking up a handful of letters Stoddard laid on his desk.

 "Mother's pretty philosophical about anything she sees is
inevitable," said Bob with a boyish grin, and picking up a tray
of telegrams he went out.

 Secretary Stanton entered shortly after. His dark eyes
behind his spectacles were red-rimmed for lack of sleep but
were full of their usual fiery earnestness.

38z WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 Lincoln rose to meet him. "Well, old friend, we've
weathered through another night, eh?Ialways tell myself that
when I waken. Anything of the nature of a catastrophe for
me this morning?"

 Stanton's eyes softened. "You look as if you'd barely
scraped through, though, Mr. Lincolnl God Almighty, but
you look tiredl"

 "Same to your" The President threw a long arm across
Stanton's shoulders and the two men stood silent for a
moment.

 Finally Stanton said, "I've got another letter from Grant to
the effect that Phil Sheridan is expected to do real damage
to Early. He gives details as to how the various forces will
move. Sensible enough but for one thing. You know as well
as I do, Mr. Lincoln, that unless Grant gets up to Maryland
to see the ground himself we're in for another damn fool
fiasco. The officers will do nothing but quarrel and fight for
prestige. They need a head on the spot. And for some
reason, Grant won't go. Here, read it yourself."

 Lincoln read the message and looked up. "You're right,
Stanton. It's good but not good enough. Here, let me see if
I can't start him." He seated himself at the desk and wrote,
"I have seen your dispatch in which you say, 'I want Sheridan
put in command of all the troops in the field with
instructions to put himself south of the enemy and follow
him to the death. Wherever the enemy goes let our troops
go also ' This I think is exactly right as to how our forces
should move but please look over the dispatches you may
have received from here ever since you made that order and
discover, if you can, that there is any idea in the head of any
one here of putting our army south of the enemy or of
following him to the death in any direction. I repeat to you,
it will neither be done nor attempted unless you watch it
every hour of every day and force it."

 Stanton read the message, nodded delightedly and said,
"This is splendid! Of course it's in violation of all official
etiquette and propriety."

 "I reckon it is," replied Lincoln serenely. "I'm proud of the
solid reputation I'm building for just that thing. Get it off,
Stanton."

 Grant's reply came at noon. He said, laconically, that he
was leaving at noon for the Maryland front.

 Lincoln heaved an enormous sigh of relief and announced
to Nicolay and Bob that he was giving himself a treat on the
strength of Grant's decision. The boys received his
announcement with cheers and forthwith he went over to
Chittenden's office and induced the Register of the Treasury
to go with him to visit Professor Henry, head of the
Smithsonian Institution. "I want to get you two fellows
stirred up to talk. I want to travel far from war and politics."

 Luck was peculiarly with him, he thought, when they found
in Henry's office the explorer Kennicott, who had just
returned from three years' exploration of the Yukon. The
room was overflowing with pelts, heads, eggs and other fruits
of the trip. Kennicott was only too glad to tell his story, and
Lincoln put his feet on the mantel and settled down for a
real feast.

THE TANGLED BURDEN 383

 It was seven o'clock when the President looked at his watch
and ejaculated, "dings, I've been in Alaska four solid hoursl
I'm a new man, gentlemenl" And with a regretful farewell
glance at Kennicott's loot, he rushed back to his office to
make up for his holiday.

 It was well past ten o'clock that evening when he decided
to go out to the Soldiers' Home to spend the night with the
family, again sojourning there. He had told the servants and
his guards that he would remain in the city, but when he
passed through the empty sitting room on his way to bed, he
realized that he was lonely. It would be good fun to slip out
and tell Mary about Kennicott while the story was fresh in his
mind. He evaded his guard, saddled his own horse, led it out
the servant's gate and was off.

 It was over a year since he'd ridden alone. A thrilling sense
of freedom swept over him. There was a brilliant moon. His
horse was fresh and lively and inclined to shy at shadows. No
chance to worry or think, with this beast to control, he
thought contentedly. He allowed the animal to gallop the
length of the turnpike, only slowing him down when he
reached the turn into the Home. The August night was
lovely burning stars above and heavy scent of harvest fields
on either side the road with locusts droning placidly.

 He brought the horse to a full halt as he entered the gates
and sat looking at the beautiful view to the north. Suddenly
a rifle shot rang out and a bullet whined by the President's
ear. The horse bolted, then another shot came.

 Lincoln felt as if some one had hit his hat a violent blow.
The frightened horse could not be brought up again until his
forehoofs struck the porch of the cottage. Mary screamed
from above and as Lincoln stood soothing the horse, she
appeared on the porch with a candle.

"Abratm, are you hurt?"

 "Not at all," answered the President, still struggling with the
plunging horse. "Hold the candle here, will you, Mary7 Let's
see if this fellow got scratched."

 "Who cares about the horse? It's youl Abra'm, what was it?
What brings you here7" Her voice rose hysterically.

A yawning colored boy came round the corner and took the
reins.

 Lincoln lifted the candle from Mary's shaking hand. "You
brought me here, dearest wifel" He took her hand and led her
up the stairs to their little bedroom, talking quietly as he
moved. "I had a glorious afternoon in Alaska with Judge
Chittenden and Doc Henry. I came out to tell you about it.
A fine fellow named Kennicott "

 As they entered the room, Mary interrupted him. "It's all
right now, Abra'm. I'm not going into hysterics. I've learned
more self-control in the past three years than in the forty
years before. Who shot at you?"

 "I don't know that any one did," setting the candle down on
the bureau. "There was a shot as I turned from the turnpike
that scared my horse. He bolted and jerked off my hat and
here I am."

384 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 Mary stared up at him. She looked very young with her
long braids hanging over her night dress. "Abra'm,how are
we going to endure the strain to the endl And you want four
years morel"

 "It's queer what a man's conscience and vanity working
together will bring him to, eh," chuckled Lincoln, sitting
down on a stool covered with a cross-stitched tidy and
beginning to pull off his boots.

 "VVe'll have a lot of bad news. I broke a mirror to-day!"
She stooped to help him with his boots and he saw that her
teeth were chattering and her hands shaking. The superb
fight she had waged for self-control ever since Willie's death
was a constant source of admiration to him. He helped when
he could.

 "Let's go down to the kitchen and get something to eat,
Mary. I'd give five dollars for a cup of your tea. You haven't
made me one since we deft Springfield."

 "Haven't you had supper?" she demanded, straightening up
and looking at him disgustedly.

"I forgot to," he replied meekly.

 She pulled on a dressing gown, the color coming back to
her face. "You are the greatest fool about your stomach that
ever lived. I should think you'd learn sense, sometime. I let
all the servants go to town except that cotton-headed Jake.
You come straight down to the kitchen with me. No, don't
start without your slippers. These floors are full of slivers."

 She continued scolding as he followed her to the kitchen.
She ordered him to sit down at the clean-scrubbed pine
table. He did so, watching her contentedly as she
manipulated the fire which still glowed. He finally lifted both
feet to the opposite chair and interrupted the steady flow of
her admonitions with a groan of satisfaction.

 "Lord, isn't this final Mary, see if those darkies haven't hid
some of their own ash-cakes round somewhere. A stone jar
they would be in then some New Orleans molasses, and
your teat Ah," as she returned from the pantry with corn
bread and the molasses jug, "Mary, I wouldn't swap you for
Queen Victoria."

 Mary dimpled and suddenly laid her cheek to his. "I
worship your" she whispered. Then she poured him his tea.

 The next morning he rode back to town accompanied by
James and the cotton-headed Jake. When they reached the
turnpike, Lincoln dismounted and picked up his felt hat
which lay in a clump of goldenrod. There was a bullet hole
through the crown. He crushed the hat into the pocket of his
coat. He would give it to Colonel Baker of the Detective
Police and then forget the matter.

 And Mary's prophecy of evil didn't come true that day, for
Stoddard met him at the door of the White House with the
news that Admiral Farragut had defeated the Rebel fleet
and taken Mobile Bay!

               CHAPTER XVII
               JEANIE DEANS

TOHN HAY, who had returned from Greeley's futile peace
mission I more than ever discontented with what he called
mere clerical work, J was eager to attend the pending
Democratic convention in Chicago, but Nicolay was better at
that sort of thing, so it was he who went. It was John Hay,
however, who brought the first news of the Chicago
"surrender." He burst into Lincoln's bedroom, showing for
the first time since Lincoln had known him, a real despair.
Standing by the bed, wrapped in a purple and yellow
smoking robe that was much coveted by Bob, his black hair
rumpled, his black eyes deep sunk and his lips quivering, the
young man read the news aloud to the President.

 The Democrats had nominated McClellan on a platform
the basic premise of which was that the war was a failure
and peace with Unionism the only feasible aim with no
conditions attached to the restoration as regarded upholding
the Emancipation Act.

 John dashed the paper to the floor and kicked it under the
bed. Y warned everybody last spring when I came back from
the middle West that there was almost revolutionary feeling
against continuing the war and a growing enthusiasm for
McClellan."

 "I know you did, Johnl" agreed Lincoln. "But I didn't
exactly nominate the manl"

 John's lips quivered. "I don't know whether the nation's
worthy of you for another term, sir. But if the dumb cattle
aren't worthy of another term of Lincoln, then let the will of
God be done and the murrain of McClellan fall on theml"

 He jerked the cord of his robe viciously and banged out of
the room. Lincoln lay for a moment staring blankly at the
ceiling. Then the door again flew open and John, one broad
grin, appeared, followed by Bob and Taddie. John waved a
slip of yellow paper.

 "The war a failure, ehl Allow me to read you the answer
General Sherman makes to thatl 'September 3. Atlanta is
ours and fairly takenl' How's that for a plank for the
Republican platform?"

 "By Jingsl" shouted Lincoln. "What news for a fellow to
receive in his nightshirt! How can I do a hornpipe? Hand me
my breeches, Tad."

 But instead of dressing himself, he sat on the edge of the
bed, holding the yellow slip and smiling at it. Finally he said:

 "I reckon that this is the moment to call the folks'
attention in no uncertain terms to the fact that this war is
not a failure. They've been ignoring what Farragut's done.
And they've got to take notice that Sherman's army is now
substantially the same as it was when it left Chattanooga.

386 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

After all the bloodshed what a reliefl what a reliefl 'A
victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full
numbers.'"

 Mary came in on the last of his soliloquy and shooed the
boys out after she had heard the glorious news. But Lincoln
would not allow her to lead him to breakfast until he had
written a proclamation in which he adjured the people to
give thanks to the Supreme Being for these victories and
ordered a hundred-gun salute to be fired at each arsenal and
navy yard of the United States.

Then he ate an unusually hearty breakfast.

 "You'd lay on some flesh and be a credit to your clothes
if you could get a telegram from Sherman every morning,"
said Mary as she refilled his coffee cup.

 "Or just one from Sheridanl I'm getting discouraged about
him," said the President.

 For Sheridan still maneuvered for position against Early
while Early continued to choke the railroads into Baltimore
and Washington. There was now grave danger from a
food-and-fuel famine in both cities. Grant had felt that the
consequences of a defeat at the moment of the nation's
terrible depression would be so grave that he was hesitating
to have Sheridan take the initiative. Lincoln had felt the
reasonableness of this but now, backed by the news from
Sherman and Farragut, he began to urge Grant to take the
gamble. In spite of his efforts, however, two weeks went by
without apparent results. But on the zoth of September,
Stoddard ran all the way from Stanton's office to Lincoln's
with Sheridan's reply to the Chicago convention.

 "We have just sent them whirling through Winchester and
we are after them to-morrow."

 Lincoln read the telegram, then looked over his spectacles
to exclaim, "Boys, I reckon this will do! We'll shut up shop
for the rest of the day."

He spent the afternoon visiting hospitals with Mary.

 He awaited, eagerly now, the effect of the Chicago
surrender on his own party. The answer came again through
the newspapers. On the With of September they reported a
long speech by Charles Sumner in Cooper Institute, New
York, ardently supporting Lincoln for Presidentl

 From the moment that he read this speech, Lincoln began
to cherish a real hope that he might be reelected.

Sumner first, then Chasel

 The former member of his Cabinet dropped into the
President's office on the last day of September. He never
had seen Chase looking so well, though he was handsome at
all times; a big man physically with almost perfect features.
What impressed Lincoln most at the moment was the fact
that the familiar look of irritation had left Chase's lip and
eye. He appeared as urbane as a sleeping child.

 "The White Mountains have done you good, Governor,"
said Lincoln, shaking hands.

"What a pity you couldn't have been up there, too, Mr.
Lincoln," re

JEANIE DEANS 387

plied Chase as he looked from Lincoln's weary face to the
shabby, overloaded desk. "We've thought of you and Mrs.
Lincoln often, suffering here im this dreadful town."

 "I suppose it isn't a dreadful town, really," returned Lincoln,
thoughtfully. "In fact, I recall having a sort of affection for
the place when I was in Congress. But after this four years'
siege Well, when I leave it, I hope never to see it
again. Sit down and swap a few lies with me. What are you
going to do with yourself now, Governor?"

 "I'm going to devote myself to your reelection, Mr.
Lincoln," sinking into his old place at the Cabinet table.

 Lincoln kept his countenance with difficulty, eased himself
onto the edge of the table and clasped his left knee with both
hands as he asked:

"You've changed your mind about me, eh?"

 Chase looked up at the President and replied slowly, "I
don't feel that I really know you and so I can't found my
actions on what you say or do. But I've never desired
anything but your complete success and I've never indulged
in a personal feeling incompatible with absolute fidelity to
your administration."

 Lincoln bit his lip and told himself that Chase had taken
his swapping invitation literally. Aloud he said:

 "I reckon it's not in the books for you and me to
understand each other, Governorl Won't your friends be
grieved at losing their pet candidate?"

 "I never really desired to be President, Mr. Lincoln," Chase
leaned forward earnestly, his eyes as clear and candid as
Tad's. "It's my conviction that the cause I love and the
general interests of the country will be best promoted by your
reelection and I've made up my mind to join my efforts to
those of almost the whole body of my friends in securing it."

 "This is very pleasing to mel Veryl" Lincoln suddenly
choked, and it was not with laughter. He jumped from the
table and walked hastily to the window. Chase really meant
what he said. What a strange mindl He stared at the distant
Potomac hopefully-almost cheerfully. The sails were pretty
in the September sun. He couldn't recall when he had no-
ticed them before. He went back to the table and looked
down at Chase, suppressing a desire to laugh or to weep, he
couldn't tell which. "I'm glad to hear this news, Governor."

 Obviously moved by the President's emotion, Chase rose
and held out his hand. The two men shook hands and
Lincoln uttered a silent prayer that the act prove symbolical
of a real loyalty from the former secretary.

 "My first move will be in my home State," said Chase. "In
Ohio I ought to have weight, though I'm ashamed to say that
McClellan's strong there."

 "But not as strong as Salmon P. Chase," cried Lincoln
joyfully. Then with a little hesitation, "Have you seen Charles
Sumner lately7"

 "I last saw dear Charles at Longfellow's house in Nahant on
my way to the mountains," replied Chase, a reminiscent smile
lighting his face. The three of us spent the day on the piazza
reading aloud Tennyson's

388 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

last poem, 'Enoch Arden.' Longfellow's small daughter
nestled in Sumner's lap much of the time. I must remember
to tell little Isabella Hooper that. We avoided politics. Of
course the Chicago treason hadn't occurred then."

 "But he's come out for met" ejaculated Lincoln. "Now with
Phil Sheridan galloping up the Shenandoah Valley Did you
ever see him, Governor7 He's not much more to look at
than I am, a little chap with a round head, red face, legs
longer than his body and not enough neck to hang him by.
But he will actually chase Rebelsl He and Sherman after
all these years I Whewl Well, you've brought a fine grade
of corn to the mill this morning, Governor," as Chase picked
up his hat.

"Perhaps it was time, Mr. Lincoln," said Chase enigmatically.

 Lincoln looked at his broad back almost with affection.
"Patience is a tired nag," he murmured, "yet will she jog."

 Mary was inclined to be scornful of Lincoln's hopes of
Chase's personal loyalty.

 "It suits him just now to make up to you because Chief
Justice Taney is dying. Let's see what he does after the old
man is gone."

 But though poor Taney obligingly died in late October,
Chase made no direct move in relation to the event.
However, even before the funeral, a letter came from
Sumner reminding Lincoln of their conversation the previous
spring. He added his usual few words of admonition.

 "I insist that from this time forward, the Constitution must
be interpreted for liberty as it has been thus far for slavery.
I remind you also that our war measures must be sustained.
A Chief Justice is needed whose position on the slavery
question is already fixed and will not need argument of
counsel to convert him. Chase's appointment should come
hard on the heels of Taney's funeral."

 Nicolay gave this letter to the President with a questioning
lift of the eyebrows. Lincoln read it, and said, "We'll be
swamped with petitions. Every jerkwater lawyer in the
country is going to ask for the job. Give them all the same
answer: that the President's going to be very shut pan about
this matter."

 "There's a letter in this mail from Governor Chase. He's
still in Ohio," Nicolay grinned.

"What's it about?" asked Lincoln.

"Simply a kind and friendly letter."

 "File it with his other recommendations," said Lincoln with
his shrewd smile.

 Lincoln had no intention of appointing Chase immediately.
After pondering on the matter for some time, he came to
the conclusion that it would be salutary for this man with his
uneasy ambitions, his incapacity for reading men, his unkind
tongue, to spend a few weeks in uncertainty. In seeking the
reason for the delay it was possible that the Governor might
bring his brilliant brain to bear on his own weaknesses of
character. Only when he understood these would he be fit
for the high office.

JEANIEDEANS 389

 So under all the enormous pressure, pressure so widespread
that one might have thought that even the war and the
pending election were less important to folk than their
winning of the vacant place on the bench for themselves or
their friends, Lincoln was silent.

 He watched the work of his party on his reelection with
deepest concern, gave advice, kept Nicolay on the go. But he
made no election speeches himself. When election day came,
to his own surprise, he found himself quite calm and going
about his routine business with a clear mind. Mary was tense
and irritable with anxiety. She finally lost patience with
Lincoln's apparent indifference and went off with Taddie to
take supper with Mrs. Welles.

 A heavy rain came on late in the afternoon. The wind rose
almost to a hurricane. It was Cabinet day, but only Bates and
Welles were there, for Stanton was down with malaria and
the others had gone home to vote. Lincoln dismissed the
meeting shortly and as the twilight came on, suddenly realized
that he was alone and that he was lonely and uneasy. He
prowled about from room to room. The sitting room with a
single light burning low and the little dog Sumter asleep on
a sofa, Martin Van Buren smirking above him. Mary's room
with the faint odor of altar of roses the toilet things in
perfect alignment on the bureau dear Maryl she'd find
Springfield dull, but heavenly dull, after all this. His own
room. No, that enshrined too many agonies. He wouldn't go
in there. Across the hall to Tad's room. Tad had been playing
with his toy soldiers. A pistol, present from some officer, lay
on the bed. Lincoln purloined it. He'd had an ugly dream
about Tad and his pistol, the night before.

 From Tad's room into Willie's. It had been kept without
change, though Mary never had entered it from the day of
the boy's death. Lincoln lighted the gas and stood looking
about. Willie had been Lincoln over again with all Lincoln's
boyhood yearnings. Thank God, Willie's father'd been able to
satisfy some of them. He smoothed the bed and patted a copy
of Scott's poems, still open, face down on the table. Then
seated himself on the bed.... If it was the will of the people to
refuse him this day at the polls what a relief, what a tragic
reliefl . . . Life could compensate him best by bringing him
this refusal.... Life, what was it7 God functioning7 or man7
And who was he, Abraham Lincoln7 Who 7 President of
the United States of Americal Godl Godt . . . He twisted his
hands together and groaned, then sat motionless.

 John Hay came upon him, a little breathless from his
search. One never knew when the kidnapers would be given
their opportunity by Lincoln's carelessness of self. The young
man gave a sweeping glance round the room and his face was
very tender but his voice casual as he said:

 "So many wires are down owing to the storm, sir, that the
only news will be in the War Office. Let's go over there and
see what's happening."

 Lincoln rose, blinked, and with one hand on John's
shoulder turned out the gas with the other. He twisted a blue
army cape round him and fol

390 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

lowed the young man toward the War Offfice. It was difficult
to negotiate the turnstile, so fierce was the buffeting of the
wind.

 There was a crowd in the War Office, Welles, Bates,
Nicolay, Stoddard, and several newspaper men. Somebody
had treated to an oyster supper on trays. It was good to be
back in the world of men.

By midnight, it was certain that he had been elected.

  About two o'clock Mary sent word that in spite of the rain
that still fell, a huge crowd was serenading his empty bed
chamber. He hurried home through the kitchen premises,
made a little speech from the window of his room and went
to sleep a little later, almost unbearably convinced that the
Supreme Being was setting the seal of approval on the thing
he was trying to do.

  But even now, he did not give Chase the reward every one
said Chase expected. He was waiting to see Sumner. He
would not send for Sumner. But, as he expected, the Senator
appeared just before the opening of Congress.

  It was a cold, sleety day with Tad Iying on the office
hearthrug reading aloud from a book of fairy tales while his
father worked on his message to Congress. Tad was wild
with joy at seeing his friend. Before his father and the
Senator could shake hands the boy was embracing him while
his shouts of welcome brought James to the door. Sumner
hugged and kissed him and exclaimed over his summer's
growth. But when Tad had subsided, the two men clasped
hands in silence: Lincoln deeply glad to see this man he
loved, deeply apprehensive of what this greatest of his ad-
versaries might have in store for him.

  Sumner broke the silence, his voice tender and deep. "My
dear Mr. Lincoln, you make us all feel selfish, always here,
day after difficult day," he glanced around the office as
Chase had done, "and the rest of us_ n

  "And the rest of you," smiled Lincoln, "riveting the chains
for another four years. I'm mighty grateful to you for your
efforts and your selfsacrifice, Senator. I've followed things
with fair accuracy, this summer."

  Sumner chose to ignore the implications. "We're all happy
over the results, Mr. Lincoln."

"Even Chase?" asked the President, deliberately.

  "You must try to overlook the indecorous things Mr.
Chase once said about you," said Sumner, drawing Tad down
beside him on a sofa and patting the small grimy hand that
lay on his great knee.

  "Ohl I bear no grudge," answered Lincoln. "They sting but
they concern Chase more than they do me. Would he as
Chief Justice say indecorous things about the persons and
cases connected with the Supreme Court? You perceive that
here's where his hens come home to roost."

  "I'm sure he won't," answered Sumner earnestly. "It's only
where his ambition's concerned that he's unwise."

  Lincoln rubbed his head. "Of Mr. Chase's ability and of his
soundness on the interpretations of the Emancipation there
can be no doubt. But  he's a man of unbounded ambition
and he's been working all his life to

JEANIE DEANS 39~

become President. I'm afraid if I make him Chief Justice,
he'll simply become more restless and uneasy and neglect the
place in his strife and intrigue to get this job. If I were sure
he'd go on the bench and give up his aspirations and do
nothing but make himself a great judge, I'd not hesitate a
moment. What do you say to this idea, Senator7 What if I'd
send for Mr. Chase and tell him frankly that the way was
open to him to become the greatest Chief Justice the
Supreme Court ever had if he'll dismiss at once and forever
the subject of the Presidency?"

 Sumner raised both white hands in horror. "Nol A thousand
times, no! Can't you see the construction Mr. Chase and all
his friends would put on such a proposition coming from
your"

 Lincoln answered thoughtfully, "If he were more my friend,
I'd risk it. . . . I'm convinced of his great powers. I hope
rather against hope that once upon the bench he'll see in
what direction his best prospects of usefulness and fame
rest...." He ran his paper knife through his hair several times,
Sumner watching him anxiously, then slipping it back into his
vest pocket, he said, "Well, Senator, I'll risk itl"

 "Thank GodI" ejaculated Sumner. "I'm sure you'll not regret
your decision, Mr. Lincoln."

 "I hope not." The President spoke soberly. "Of course, he'll
keep on bringing me up by hand but I'm almost hardened to
that."

 "Mr. Lincoln," Sumner's deep voice was very soft, "I want
to say that I think you're showing fine magnanimity in this.
Chase should be most grateful to you.... Between you and me,
I think this act of yours may save him from political
indiscretions that would blast his fame. I wish your treatment
of him could be written into history."

 "Tutl Tutl" Lincoln shook his head but he felt warmed in
spite of his protest. "I don't want praise. I'll tell you a story
that will explain why. Do you remember what Jeanie Deans
said to Queen Caroline when the Duke of Argyll procured
her an opportunity to beg for her sister's lifer"

Sumner shook his head and frowned a little. Lincoln went on,
serenely:

 "I remember it. She said: 'It's not when we sleep soft and
wake merrily oursel's that we think on other people's
sufferings. Our hearts are waxed light within us then and we
are for righting our ain wrongs and fighting our ain battles.
But when the hour of trouble comes to the mind or the body
and when the hour of death comes that comes to high or
low,  oh, then it isna what we hae dune for oursel's but what
we hae dune for others that we think on maist pleasantly."'

 There was a short pause during which Sumner patted Tad's
hand gently. The little boy broke the silence by asking the
Senator if he'd not like to borrow the book of fairy tales.

 Sumner accepted the offer, gravely. Lincoln wondered if
this were the moment for a few cautious advances on
Louisiana but Mary came in with a glass of buttermilk, and
a moment later, Sumner, with the fairy tales under his arm
and Tad clinging to his hand, followed Mary on a visit to a
century plant in bloom in the greenhouse. Lincoln saw him go
with a sigh of relief.

CHAPTER XVIII

                 THE ISSUE

HE storm for a while after Sumner's departure shut off the
stream of callers. Lincoln was glad of the opportunity thus
offered for work - on the annual message, but he found it
difficult to take it up again. Instead his mind ran on Sumner.
The thought of the struggle that could no longer be
postponed came between him and all his other problems.
And suddenly he asked himself why, if he ended slavery and
successfully ended the war, he should so seriously concern
himself with reconstruction. He would have done his share
and he was unutterably weary of strife and contention. Why
not let Sumner have his ways Why not?

 He tilted his chair back against the wall, put his feet on his
desk and abandoned himself to marshaling the thoughts of
the past four years. Cleared of the debris of half thoughts,
they presented themselves about like this: The issue
embraced more than the fate of these United States. It
presented to the whole family of men the question whether
a constitutional republic, a government of the people, by the
same people, could or could not maintain its territorial
integrity against its own domestic foes. It presented the
question whether discontented individuals could break up
their government and thus practically put an end to free
government upon the earth.

 Was there in all republics this inherent and fatal
weakness? Must a government of necessity be too strong for
the liberties of its own people or too weak to maintain its
own existence?

 There had been many hours when he would have said
"Yesl" to this query, but now it looked as if so far as physical
force was concerned the answer was "Nor" But "No" only
as to physical force. It looked as if the Rebels were not the
only enemies to the conception of the Union as the
beginning and the end of the nation. Sumner with his
contention that State suicide was a possible and an
accomplished fact nullified the basic conception of the
Union. Once let Sumner put through his idea of re-
construction, based on the admission that the States had left
the Union, and the whole Secession contention on State
sovereignty was ratiSed.

 The nation had purchased with money the land out of
which several of the seceding States had been formed. The
nation even now was in debt for money applied to these
purchases. It was paying the old debts of Texas. If one State
could secede, so could another, and when all were gone who
would be left to pay the debts? Then how about the
creditor? He must ask Sumner that.

 No, he wouldn't ask him that, eitherl It would get them
nowhere. There was no blinking the fact that after nearly two
years of effort, he and

THE GREAT ISSUE 393

the Senator from Massachusetts were no closer to seeing eye
to eye. Any advantages the President had won had been
through luck, the gratuitous gift of the march of events. If he
was to go on, he must now make a supreme effort.

Was it worth the struggle?

 He recalled his state of mind in '61. He reviewed what the
years in Washington had done to his high faith in his fellow
man. A throng, more wretched in spirit than those poor
fellows he'd seen freed from Libby prison had been in body,
filed past his mind's eye; a throng of unequaled sleekness and
prosperity of aspect. But in its pettiness, its self-seeking, its
dishonorableness, its cruelty and stupidity, this unending file
of selfseeking men and women who had passed through his
office was leprous.

 He wondered if, to the President of a republic, humanity
could remain beautiful or to any ruler of any country. God,
how pitiful the human animal wasl A bleakness like
death-horror descended on him. Should he struggle against
Sumner to maintain a nation whose citizens had not been
made better than those of other nations by its beneficent
institutions7 Men should become better citizens here than in
England or France or Russia. Our initial object was clear on
that.

 Ah, wasn't that just the point? After all, wasn't the struggle
to maintain the Union a plain people's contest to perpetuate
that form and substance of government whose leading object
was to elevate the condition of men? To lift artificial weights
from all shoulders, to clear the paths of laudable pursuits for
all, to afford all an unfettered start and a fair chance in the
race of life?

 From the bird's-eye view, it really mattered little that in the
paltry three-quarters of a century of the nation's life, so little
had been accomplished spiritually. The experiment had only
begun. It was an experiment which if successful would have
a supremely important effect on civilization. Didn't one then
have an unshiftable obligation to carry it one Didn't the issue
have a breadth of aspect that made slavery seem only a local
and temporary portion of it7 Sumner was near-sighted.

 He began to wonder, at this point, just why this vast,
impersonal problem of the philosophy of government had
taken so vital a hold on him. At what point in his career had
its import moved beyond the slavery issue to include the
whole theory of human liberty7 Slowly he reviewed his
boyhood, his memories of his father, his mother. Much that
would make a man ambitious there, but nothing to give a
man this overweening interest in the great political
experiment. His young manhood in Springfield7 Mary and
Herndon had helped stock his mind with facts, Mary had
urged him on but not from these the vital interest.
Washington, the war Lord, what a long, dusty roadl

 How unbelievable that he, he of all people in the world,
should be the ruler of a great nationl a man of such poverty
of opportunity

Hahl He gasped aloud as understanding swept over him.

In these United States there was no such thing as poverty of
oppor

394 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

tunityl His own career was proof of that. And in his own
career lay the cause of his vital interest in the experiment of
government!

 He was a living witness that any man's child could look to
come to the White House as his own father's child had
come. Here at last was the answer to his first query. His
absorption in the saving of the Union was based on the
desire that any one else might have through this free govern-
ment an open field and a fair chance for his industry,
enterprise and intelligence; that he might have equal
privileges in the race of life with all its desirable human
aspirations. To save the Union was to secure this inestimable
jewel to mankind.

 As he reached this conclusion, the sense of depression, of
seeing through a glass darkly, that had haunted him so long,
melted into thin air. He felt a sudden influx of mental
vigorand sureness unprecedented in his experience. The
office slowly impinged on his consciousness. The desk took
shape before him the papers the first sentence of the
annual message. He dropped his chair back into position and
took up his pen.

 He had decided long since to repeat the amnesty offer and
to urge again the passing of a constitutional amendment
freeing the slaves, thus giving the States a chance to ratify
what already had been done as a military necessity. He
dipped his pen in the ink but before he had put down a
word, Mary spoke from the doorway in a voice of
unutterable weariness:

 "At lastl Do you know that it's midnight, Abra'm, and that
you've not been out of that chair for eight mortal hours7 Do
come to bedl I've a cold supper waiting for you in your
room."

"I did take a long trip this time, I reckon," he said
apologetically.

 Congress made no bones about its intention to fight
Lincoln on reconstruction. Just where it would strike the
first blow he couldn't be sure, but he took it for granted that
the effort would be via Sumner and Louisiana. Sumner went
back and forth between the Capitol and the Executive
Mansion with great frequency but always on anything rather
than reconstruction. Then the newly-elected members
arrived from Louisiana and presented their credentials and
Sumner showed his hand. He rose in the Senate and served
notice that he would in a short time outline his suggestions
on handling Louisiana.

Thus the storm broke on Lincoln. And he was still without
a program!

 On the day of Sumner's pronouncement, Alice Hooper
gave a tea which Mary attended. Sumner, of course, was
there, and Senator Trumbull dropped in. Alice Hooper
deliberately precipitated a discussion by saying that she had
met the wife of one of the Louisiana Senators-elect and
hoped that Congress would admit the new members if all the
wives were as charming as this one.

 Trumbull said with a grin, "Ask Senator Sumnerl I hear he
and the President compromised the matter."

 "I wouldn't think of suggesting compromise to the
President," Sumner shook his head sadly.

THE GREAT ISSUE 395

 Mary spoke quickly, "I would, for you, Senator, if you really
have a possible one in mind."

 Sumner looked at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps you could get
his ear, Mrs. Lincoln. Certainly I've failed for weeks. There's
nothing more necessary before the country to-day than that
there be no break between Mr. Lincoln and Congress on
reconstruction. Much as I am against the premature
recognition of Louisiana, I'll hold my peace if I can secure a
rule of equality for the negroesof other States."

"Why don't you tell Mr. Lincoln that yourself, Senator?" asked
Mary.

 "He has made it clear that he won't discuss compromise
with me," replied Sumner. "Therefore we can't admit the
persons from Louisiana."

 "Oh, there are worse things done every day in the Senate
than admitting those men would be," smiled Trumbull.

"What's that7" demanded Sumner, soberly.

 "Letting fanatics like Ben Wade and Winter Davis get a
strangle grip on reconstruction," replied Senator Trumbull,
coolly.

 A gasp went round the tea table. "Whatl" shouted Sumner.
"After your intimacy therel What do you mean?"

 Y mean," retorted Trumbull, flushing but without fumbling
his words, "I mean that along with other Northerners with
open minds I've been seeing these past months that Lincoln
is farther sighted than the rest of us.

 "By the living Godl" shouted Sumner. "Your You, the
Jacobin who scourged Lincoln, the tyrantl You would now
join with him to keep the negro in outer darkness?"

 "Senator! Senatorl" protested Alice Hooper, wiping up the
tea he had spilled on the lace cloth.

 "I'm sorry, very, very sorry, Alicel" Sumner lowered his voice
at once and helped her to repair the damage. Then he turned
to Trumbull with his charming, apologetic smile. "Fanatics
have no place at a lady's tea table, eh, Senator?"

 "Seems to me the ladies put up with a good deal from you,
Senator," replied Trumbull. "I suppose it's because you're so
ornamental."

 "Handsome is as handsome doesl" exclaimed Alice. "I've a
notion to send you up to the nursery to have tea with
Isabella."

 "Don't suggest it or we'll lose him, Mrs. Hooper," protested
Mary in mock alarm.

 Trumbull turned to her immediately and asked her if she
had had recent news from her brother-in-law in Springfield,
Ninian Edwards. Mary followed his lead and they renewed
their old acquaintanceship elaborately while Alice Hooper and
Sumner murmured over the tea table. Mary rushed home
immediately after Trumbull left, impatient to tell her story to
Lincoln. Rarely enough she and the President had the supper
table to themselves and she was able to finish without
interruption.

 Lincoln listened with increasing surprise and pleasure.
"Welll Welll" he exclaimed when she was done, "that's a sort
of left-handed atonement

396 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

on Trumbull's part but, to mix figures, I won't look a gift horse in the
mouthl"

"Isn't it wonderful? How do you account for the change?" cried Mary.

 "I think he accounted for it," said Lincoln. "Trumbull is honest. Mary,
I've got my program! I'll execute a flank movement on Sumner. I'll send
for Trumbull to-night and get him to head it."

 "I don't see," insisted Mary, "why on earth you don't make Mr.
Sumner Secretary of State, then he'd be out of your way."

 I       "Because I won't give him the satisfaction of refusing the
offer," replied

Lincoln. "And anyhow, he'd never bow to the yoke of a
Secretaryshipl"

 "No man can be one of your Cabinet officers and not learn to mind
you, Abra'm, I've learned that," agreed Mary.

 !       "Chase never learned to mind," Lincoln pointed out.

 "So Chase resigned!" She smiled impishly at him. "But jokes aside, my
dear, I'm dreadfully concerned about the men you plan to invite into
your new Cabinet. How can you consider General Banks when you
might have Sumner?"

 "In the first place, Sumner would scorn such an invitation," said
Lincoln with dawning irritation, "and in the second place, what makes
you think I'm considering Banks?"

 "Everybody's saying so, and all sorts of people have been to me with
protests," answered Mary, using her finger bowl vigorously.

 i       "I've never thought of him in that connection," said
Lincoln shortly.

"Nor has any one mentioned him to me. He's gone back to New
Orleans."

 Mary dropped her napkin. "Good heavens! Then I've put my foot in
it againl Has Charles Sumner said anything to you about Banks lately?"

 "I said no one hadl" looking at Mary with the old uneasiness. "You
ought not meddle where you've no authority, wife. You can make me
an infinite amount of trouble. Where does Sumner come in on this?
What have you been doing?"

"Well, you're so absurdly patient and Banks is such a "

 "Never mind that, Maryl" pushing away his tea cup untasted, "just
where does Sumner come in?"

 "Well," defiantly, "I wrote him last week asking him to use his
influence with you to keep Banks out of the Cabinet."

 Lincoln could feel his cheeks burn. "Don't you see that you've put me
in a humiliating position before him, Mary? I thought there was one
person on earth who wouldn't try to intrigue against mel"

 "Nothing of the sortl" Mary's voice was furious. "I'm trying to help
you. That letter I've kept a copy. You shall see it."

 "Very well, I'll come with you now." Lincoln rose, more hurt than he
could readily explain to himself.

 He stood under the chandelier in Mary's room and read the letter.
"Hon. Charles Sumner, My dear sir: Our best Republican friends, those
who have been the most ardent supporters of the administration
through the last trying conflict, are very much exercised over the
attempt which
THE GREAT ISSUE 397

General Banks, himself, is making most strenuously for
imaginary services; also the leading conservatives who would
like to use Banks are urging him for the Cabinet. Our true
friends write me frequently and deplore such a prospect. I am
sure such an appointment would not meet with your ap-
probation. Will you not exercise your great influence with the
friends who have a right to demand something at the hands
of a Government they have rescued from tyranny7 I feel
assured now, whilst this subject is agitated, your voice and
your pen will not be silent. General Banks is considered a
weak failure, overrated, a speculator and an associate of
Secession agents. I believe General Banks would bow
submissively to General McClellan if he were in power as to
Mr. L. himself. Perhaps you will consider it unbecoming in
me to write you thus. But the whole country is anxious about
this and it is very natural that discriminations should be made
between true, loyal men and those whom the country
considers time servers. The services of such certainly are not
required at a momentous time like thisl I can scarcely believe
that this news will not meet with your own ideas on the
subject. If I have erred, pray excuse me.

 "General Banks has been in W ten days past, unremitting
in his attentions to the President. You can do much in this
case. Any communication on this subject will be considered
private. Your friend, Mary Lincoln."

 The President's indignation mounted as he read. When he
had finished he dashed the letter to the floor.

"Thisl From my wifel I thought you had more intelligence!"

Y don't think the letter lacks intelligence," protested Mary,
with spirit.

 "It's the rambling screed of a woman who'd like to be
queen consort but hasn't the requisite training. Now, Mary,
I won't have this kind of thing going on. You go over to your
desk and write a letter to Sumner, cleaning this up, and let
me see it before you send it." He did not raise his voice but
he was the more emphatic for that.

 Mary stood before him, sparkling with anger. Her little
figure in the purple velvet trembled. Her fine eyes flashed
unutterable things.

"Don't speak to me as if I were a Cabinet member, Mr.
Lincoln."

  "I speak to you as to a woman who's interfered foolishly in
ha husband's business," he said sadly.

Y thought ours was a partnership," her voice shaking.

  "So did I, but it looks as if you didn't understand the word.
I'm waiting for the letter, Maryl"

  She flung herself down before the rosewood desk, lifted the
lid, jerked out a sheet of paper, slammed the lid down, wrote.
Lincoln paced the floor. If Mary, who for four years had
withstood the wooings and the bribes to which any ordinary
woman would have succumbed in a week if Mary now went
to pieces, the one comfort of his life was gone, the one
steady solace, the one source from which he never failed to
draw sanity, the final support he counted on for enduring this
thing to its bloody end. He had used to have, in addition to
Mary, laughter. But of late laughter

398 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

had frequently failed to come when he beckoned. He was
tired strained. Godlaman must have peace in his bedroom.
It must be his ultimate, never-failing retreat. Otherwise he'd
break and the cause was lost.

 He took with a stern look the note Mary handed him with
her finger tips.

 "Dear Mr. Sumner: I take this opportunity of offering an
apology for having written you so candid, and as it now
appears, so unnecessary a letter as I did a few days since.
Mr. L. now says that no one ever has mentioned the subject
to him, he had no idea of it himself and General Banks has
returned to his command at New Orleans. And now that I
have made the amende honorable for my sympathetic interest
in General Banks, and with apologies for having trespassed
on your valuable time, I remain, respectfully yours, Mary
Lincoln."

 "That will answer," said Lincoln, dropping the letter into
his pocket. "I realize that I've brought a part of this on
myself by asking your help with Sumner. Now remember,
Mary, you're to promise me to keep out of politics from now
on."

 "I'll do nothing of the sortl" exclaimed Mary, rushing into
her own room and slamming the door.

 Lincoln groaned and went into his office to meet a
committee from Chicago come to protest against their draft
quotas. He gave the note to Bob, who had finished his law
course and was awaiting an army appointment. Bob was
instructed to find Sumner and to deliver the note into his
hands.

 Bob traced the Senator to the Hooper mansion and
delivered the note to Sumner as he emerged from the door.
It was not a fortunate moment.

 Immediately after the departure of the President's wife,
Alice Hooper had said petulantly to Sumner, "You think
more of the darkies, Senator, than you do of your friends."

 "You mean that I think more of human liberty than I do
of my friends," returned Sumner, gently.

 "It amounts to the same thing, my good man," declared
Alice. "Will you kindly ring the bell?" She directed a servant
to remove the tea tray, then crossed the room to stand with
one fine foot on the hearth rail.

 Sumner leaned an elbow on the mantel and divided his
gaze between the fire and the beautiful woman on whom his
heart was set. She was the type for whom men of Sumner's
kind are doomed to care. In appearance she was elegant,
with an indescribable graciousness and suavity of movement
that never deserted her even when as now she was in a
captious mood. She had a genius for fashionable living that
made her, as the newspapers said, preeminent among all the
fashionable women in Washington. Nor did this
preoccupation with society completely obscure the fact that
she had a good mind: not as keen nor as avid as Mary
Lincoln's, but a good mind nevertheless. Her interest in
large political problems was real and highly intelligent and
she had an independence of opinion that led back to her
Puritan ancestry.

THE GREAT ISSUE 399

 Sumner admired her much for her intellectual qualities, but
her social cleverness attracted him as strongly. His life as
scholar and politician left him little time for the life of
fashion, but ever since his sojourn among the great families
of England in his youth he had yearned for it. He once told
Mary Lincoln that Alice was the beau ideal of the lady of
some fine old English manor. That she was like the
President's wife in some points of temperament he had
observed. But he had so little understanding of women that
he did not see that she lacked the quality that made the
Lincolns' marriage sound. She lacked Mary's understanding
of and repentant acknowledgment of her weaknesses. Mary's
final charm was her quick and fiery grief over her quick and
fiery temper.

 As she stood now with the fire glow in her delicate face, it
seemed to Sumner that Alice embodied all the beauty,
mental, spiritual, physical, that a man could desire in his life.
It was over a year now since Sturgis Hooper's death. She was
no longer in mourning; was leading a gay life. He would wait
no more.

 He drew himself up, a superb figure of a man, flushing, his
moving, tender voice low, a little broken.

"AIice, will you be my wife7"

 She looked at him gravely, without surprise. "Senator, I
could give no one what I gave Sturgis. I gave him all. Yet I
made him none too happy. You and I would both be unhappy
together."

 "But why, my dear Alice7" asked Sumner, staring at her
with painful anxiety. "Why7 Is it the disparity in our ages that
frets your"

 "That's one consideration, certainly," she said. "After all,
you were past your first youth and known to fame when I was
in the cradle."

 "There's no denying that. But, Alice, a young man couldn't
give you the prestige that perhaps I may say without too
much vanity will go with my name." He took a step toward
her.

 Alice did not move but she gave a little laugh that halted
him. "Without belittling your achievements, Senator, I'll have
to admit that a seat in the United States Senate doesn't seem
to me to compass the final glory of what the country has to
offer."

He turned to stone. "You're laughing at met"

 She nodded, her lovely eyes melting in blue fire. "After all,
we're not children, my good maul Even at that, in some ways,
I'm more experienced than you. For example, I know what
marriage is. I know that it requires a deep and common
interest to carry it through. Love is the best interest. If not
love, ambition. I'll admit that I've wondered at times, if you
asked me to marry you, what I'd say. And so wondering I've
studied you more closely than you've known. And I've come
to the conclusion that you're wasting your great powers. You
should be Secretary of State, then Minister to England, then
President."

 "Whatl" ejaculated Sumner. "Are you asking me to bribe
you to marry me? And at the price of all I hold most sacred!"
He stared at her incredulously. "Do you know me so littler"
He brought his fist against the

400 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

mantel with a thud that shook the clock. "This hurts most damnably. I
bring to you my love. Yes my love, all the pent-up emotions and de-
votions, adorations and yearnings, loneliness and soul hunger of a man
who has been denied love all during the years natural to its fulfillment.
I tremble like an untried boy at the touch of your finger tips. I flush at
the sound of your voice, your very name rings in my ear with all the
poetry, music, and beauty that artists have made for us in all the years,
and you toss all this aside with a laugh and say, bring me a
Secretaryshipl It's unbelievable!" His face twitched.

 Alice watched him with interest, a little pale, for Sumner deeply
stirred was as impressive as a forest in a storm. But there was a curious
sort of determination in the set of her lips as if she were forcing herself
not to be too much impressed. After a moment she said with her own
air of graciousness, touched now with regret.

 "I've been archaic and after all, romantic. You must forgive me,
Senator. I suppose I had a vague picture in my mind of the knight
going out at his lady's behest to bring home the impossible for her, in
order to win her hand. And I'd thought of you as
romantic sentimental as a boy. I'm sorry. Let it pass. Will you take
supper with us, Mr. Sumner?"

 Sumner was breathing heavily. "Thank you, no. I'll wish you good-
night, Alice." He bowed and went out.

 Bob Lincoln with his note met him as he hurried down the steps to
the street. There was only a feeble light from a street lamp near by.
Bob could not see the Senator's face.

 "I don't want to delay you, sir," the young man fell into step with the
older, "but here's a letter my father asked me to put into your hands.
It needs no answer."

 Sumner looked down at him. "Ah, Robertl" he said gently, putting out
a shaking hand for the letter.

 "You aren't feeling well, Senatorl" exclaimed Bob, perceiving me un-
steadiness of the hand. "Can I call a carriage for you? Your heart?"

"Yes, my heartl" grimly. "But I'm only a block from home. If you'll

 i     give me your arm I ought to have a son about your age,
Robert. I wish I

had one. And like you too, a gentle fellow with a peppery temper."
He
leaned heavily on the strong young shoulder.

"You've been overdoing," said Bob.

"Nol Yesl I've had a blow, Robert. I've had a blow."

"That's hardl Can I help?"

"Only by getting me to my house, dear boy, and calling my secretary."

 He was better by the time the house was reached and able to mount
the steps and the stairs without much difficulty.. But when Bob saw his
race clearly in me light of his bedroom he went off on his own
responsibility to find Dr. Stone.

 Then he sought his father, but the President, having given the
Chicago committee short shrift, was closeted with Lord Lyons. The
Englishman


THE GREAT ISSUE 401

looked ill, and in reply to Lincoln's inquiry if this were not
true, he answered:

 "I fear so, Mr. President. Between its malaria and its
typhoid Washington has been a little rough with me." He
warmed thin hands at the fire. "I've called for an informal
good-by."

 "Seward told me to expect you," said Lincoln. "Well, my
lord," moving over to stand beside the Minister and warming
his own hands, white enough now themselves to bear the
contrast with the visitor's, "well, my lord, you and I haven't
been precisely intimater we've managed to hitch along,
somehow, together, eh7 I don't like to see you leave us. I
don't see how any one short of one of the twelve disciples
could have filled the bill better than you. And come to think
of it, they hadn't a cupful of tact among the lot, while your
well of it is bottomless. Sit down and let's have a talk. You
said this was informal, you knowl"

 Lyons pulled his chair close to the fire. His tired face was
curiously softened. Even his impeccable evening clothes had
a relaxed air, Lincoln thought, or perhaps his loss of weight
made them sit more easily on his big frame.

 "It looks, Mr. President, as if the end were in sightl I say,
thank God for thatl"

 "It may be a few months off but not longer," replied Lincoln
cautiously. "It's been a great comfort to me, my lord, that
your country and mine haven't become embroiled. It was hard
sledding for a while, but all's well that ends well. Seems to me
nobody could have done a better job than Charles Francis
Adams has done over there. Unless Charles Sumner. What do
you think, now that you can speak like a person and not as
the British Empire7"

 "I think Mr. Sumner would have been a better initial choice,
Mr. Lincoln, because he was already known and loved there,"
replied Lyons. "But I doubt if his tact would have been as
unassailable as Mr. Adams' has proved to be. Sumner's
greatly admired in high places in my country though, where
Adams is unknown. You've asked me a difficult question, sir,"
with a smile.

 "I've found it so, myself," admitted Lincoln. "How would
Seward have done over there7"

 "Oh, not at alll" ejaculated Lyons. "His attitude on political
morals, on statecraft, is utterly cynical. And I'm never sure
from one day to the next where I'll find him. I transact all my
business with him in writing. This quite aside from the fact
that I like him tremendously."

 "You've found him to be what our negro James calls
sometimey, eh? Well, would you have liked it better if
Sumner had had that job?"

 "Infinitely There's one appointment that would have been
quite perfectl If I may ask, Mr. Lincoln, why did you need
Seward's following more than you did Sumner's7"

 "Seward's following has much more power within the
Republican party than Sumner's. Sumner's gathered about
him too many radicals from all

40z WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

parties. What would you think of Sumner in Seward's place
next years" "Very favorably. Especially if you wish to take
advantage of the prestige Mr. Adams has given your
diplomacy."

 "That's the devil of ill" sighed Lincoln. "Sumner and
Adams are at outs with each other."

 "Nevertheless, they're both sincere, both brilliantly
well-trained men, Mr. Lincoln. sincere, sirl" Lyons repeated
emphatically. "With the war over, I should suppose the cause
for contention between them would be removed. I would
earnestly recommend that you make the appointment."

 Lincoln gave a low laugh, and in reply to Lyons' surprised
look, he explained:

 "It's the first time in four years I've ever heard you express
a personal opinion. I like ill I'm going to get over to
England one of these days myself. I shall do myself the
honor of looking you up."

 "The honor will be mine, Mr. Lincoln," said Lyons with
unmistakable sincerity. "And as you say I'm being frank for
once, will you permit me to add that four years ago I'd not
have believed it possible for a man to grow to the terrible
task as you've grown. You've reached a point where your
imperturbable sagacity astounds me. I only wish my fellow
countrymen could see you as I dol"

 Lincoln reddened with pleasure. "Whatl that green fellow
from the Sangamon7"

 "I'm not at all sure but what much of the greenness was
assumed," said Lyons. "At any rate, it's mellowed now into
something so rich and original that any Anglo-Saxon may be
proud of his kinsman."

 "I I you mustn't praise me, Lord Lyons," stammered the
President, rising and crossing the room to hide his
embarrassment before the war map. "I'm not hardened to it,
like Sumner."

 "You've had all too little of it from your compatriots as
well as from others, sir," with a charming air of apology as
he rose. "Some day there'll be few, I fancy, self-deprecatory
enough to admit thatl"

 "Oh, comer Comel You'll have me asking for a chance to
kiss you, in a moment," protested Lincoln, turning round.
"Good-by, my lord, and thank you."

 "Good-by, Mr. Lincoln. God bless you, sir." He wrung
Lincoln's hand and was gone.

 Lincoln stood before the fire reviewing the interview with
considerable amazement. He was glad to know the
Englishman's opinion of Sumner and he determined that, if
Seward would agree, he'd offer the secretaryship to Sumner,
when and if the emergency required it. It was very cheering,
he thought, to have seen, if only for a moment, the hearty
man behind the diplomat. The praise was good, by Jingsl

 He had a feeling that Lyons' going rang down the curtain
on one of the last acts of the drama.

Bob slipped in now and told of his encounter with Sumner.

"Did you tell your mothers" asked Lincoln.

THE GREAT ISSUE 4o3

 "I tried to. But she's upset over something" ruefully "and
I can't be sure she listened to me. She's even so unlike
herself that she never said a word when I told her that you
were going to make a formal request to General Grant to
give me a job. I'm sorry now I didn't say I was going to
enlist."

 Lincoln put his arm around the boy's neck. "To tell the
truth, son, your mother and I are at loggerheads over a
matter and she was probably planning what she'd do to me
next."

 Bob made a wry face. "What's the matter with everybody7
Sumner, mother, Tad "

"What's the matter with Tad now7" smiled the President.

 "Oh, he got mad at his tutor to-day and fired him.
Fractions, I believe, caused the crisis. Or perhaps it was the
sugar scattered in the tutor's sheets, or the pet turkey under
Tad's desk. At any rate, the tutor took his discharge seriously
this time, and he's gone."

 "When did all this happens" asked Lincoln with huge
enjoyment. Tutors came and went as frequently as cooks in
this household.

 "Well, Tad came in and told mother, just now. But it seems
the tutor went at noon and without risking an interview with
mother. Of course, he knew she'd entice him back to the
hateful job."

"What did mother say to Tad7"

"Turned him over her knee and spanked him and sent him to
bed."

 "Taking one thing with another," said Lincoln, thoughtfully,
"I reckon I'd better go quietly off to bed, myself. I'm tired."

 "'Fraid call" grinned Bob. "John Hay and I are going out to
see the town."

"If I were twenty years younger, I'd go with you," said the
President.

                CHAPTER XIX
        TnE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL

t`UT although he fumbled noisily about his room for an hour,
Mary did not, as he hoped she would, burst repentant
through his door. It was always harder for him to bear her
aloofness than a scolding from her. When he woke the next
morning, his first thought was not of Trumbull nor of
Sumner nor of Grant, but of Mary. He dressed with great
care, put on the grey suit she liked best, and went into her
room.

 But Bob was there before him, sitting on the edge of his
mother's bed, talking rapidly and earnestly. She had been
reading "Enoch Arden" the book lay face down on her
knees. She was staring at Bob with tragic intentness. To
Lincoln's cheerful "Good morning, mother!" she replied with
an icy nod, keeping her eyes fixed on her son. Lincoln stood
at the foot of the bed, biding his time.

 Bob was pleading, "But to shoulder a gun and face danger,
that's the major part of it, motherl Last summer when I
was a Home Guard you said of course the Todds all were
soldiers."

 "So I did," retorted Mary. "You proved your steel then.
That was enough. I thought you and your father had settled
that you were to go to Grant. Why open up the old subject
of being a private?"

 "Because I just can't be reconciled to sheltering myself
behind father's Presidential coattails! Billy Stoddard's leaving
next month. He's going into the ranks and no favors asked,"
blurted Bob.

 His mother threw up her hands. "Oh, do as you pleaser
You're of age7 anyhow!"

 "I know that, mother7 but Oh7 pshaw7 why can't you
send me off freely like other mothers do? We ought to be
willing to contribute one man to the Union cause."

 His mother sat as erect as a small soldier. "And you think
we haven't contributed one man? Would the lives of twenty
men be equal to 7'

Bob groaned.

 His mother stopped short, stared at his angry7 mortified
young face7 then tossed her hands apart and said with a
little sob7 "Do as you wish, Bobbiel I'm ashamed of myself7
as usual."

 Bob gave a whoop of joy7 threw his arms around his
mother and kissed her several times7 started for the door7
then rushed back to say with Mary's own impetuosity "1711
go to Grant7 mother7 for your sakel"

 "I'll tell you7 Bob," said Lincoln, "let's compromise. I'll ask
Grant to take you, and when you get down there with him
if you find you aren't really useful, you go into the ranks."

 "Finer" cried Bob. "I'll have to go and gloat over John
Hayl" This time the hall door slammed behind him.

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 40s

 Lincoln seated himself in Bob's place on the edge of the
bed. Mary eyed him with a cold and appraising air.

"I've shaved," he said meekly.

 She picked up "Enoch Arden." He deliberately put out a
great hand and took it from her.

 "Let's have it out, Mary, without any grand flourishes. I'm
sorry I hurt your feelings but I've got to have that promise
from your"

 She gave him one of her direct looks. "I can't promise
unless you give me a substitute. You admit I've got a brain.
You know that all my life I've lived in an atmosphere of
politics. I watched my father and mother help Henry Clay in
his career. I worked from the time I met you to help you get
here. Yet now you tell me to fold my hands and devote
myself to my clothes and to spanking Tad. I can't do it,
Abra'm. I know my limitations. The very first time something
came up, I'd break that promise, unless, as I say, you give me
other work. Three years ago you headed me into hospital
relief. But the Sanitary Commission has taken over all that."

 Lincoln pondered. All that she said was true. This was the
energetic little engine that, for better or for worse, had puffed
and pushed and with much shrieking of escaping surplus
steam had landed him in the White House. It was too much
to ask her to sit idle on a side track, accumulating more
steam. It was dangerous too, because, smiling inwardly at the
figure of speech, her little boiler was sure to burst, sooner or
later.

 "Will you promise me this, then, that whatever you do,
you'll do only with my knowledge and consent. That's true
partnership, Mary."

 "But that's only getting at me from an indirect angle," she
protested. "You've only to veto everything I suggest and there
you have met"

 "Just to prove that I'm really compromising," retorted
Lincoln, "I've something to suggest, right now. I want to have
a resolution introduced immediately in the Senate as well as
the House recognizing the so-called ten per cent government
of Louisiana. I want to act before Sumner does. The House,
I think, is safe, but the Senate 1" He shook his head. "If
Trumbull can be got to introduce the bill, it would work
miracles."

 Mary's sober face quickened. "I thought of that last evening.
It would be wonderful!"

 "Your news was what made me dare think of it, of course,"
said Lincoln. "I want you to land Trumbull for me, Mary. You
can do it better than I."

She looked at him suspiciously. 'you're just soft-soaping me,
Abra'ml"

 "I couldn't afford to soft-soap you in this issue, Mary,
because I've got to make you see I mean business. I've got to
have that promisel"

 They gazed at each other implacably. The household had
roused. Tad and Bob were in altercation in the hall. A broom
was thumping intermittently against the sitting room wall. At
any moment they might be broken in upon, but the issue
must be settled now. Both of them knew that the situation
was fraught with more perils than any save themselves could
appreciate. Mary sat stiffly erect, cheeks and eyes blazing.
Lincoln drooped on the bedside. His face settled into its lines
of weary melancholy,

406 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

but his blue grey eyes bore a granite gleam in their depths.
Yet there was more than granite; there was yearning
unutterable. Suddenly Mary threw herself forward and he
caught her in his arms.

 "Oh, my dearl My dearl" she cried. "Truly I was only trying
to save you from an insincere manl But you're rightl I
should have talked it over first with you. If only I could
learn to curb my impulsiveness! It's a curser I promise! Of
course, I promise, if you'll forgive me."

 He pressed her close, burying his tired eyes in her hair.
Y've nothing to forgive, my darling wife. I reckon we need
your impulsiveness in the family to balance my slowness.
Only Mary if you want my old brain to reel, just let me
find that you're really planning to be underhanded with me.
Chittenden makes a good retreat for me so does Dr.
Henry but here here is my perfect retreat. Keep it for
me, dear wifel Keep it for met"

Her reply was to press her lips to his with a little sob.

A moment later he went back to his room, his heart at rest.

He wrote Bob's letter to Grant, that morning.

 "Lieutenant-General Grant: Please read and answer this
letter as though I was not President, but only a friend. My
son, now in his twentysecond year, having graduated at
Harvard, wishes to see something of the war before it ends.
I do not wish to put him in the ranks nor yet to give him a
commission to which those who have already served long are
better entitled and better qualified to hold. Could he without
embarrassment to you or detriment to the service go into
your military family with some nominal rank, I, and not the
public, furnishing his necessary means? If no, say so without
the least hesitation, because I am as anxious and as deeply
interested that you shall not be encumbered as you can be."

 About five o'clock that afternoon Stanton came in to see
the President. "I want to make some final disposal of Ben
Butler, Mr. Lincoln," he said, dropping into the chair by the
desk. "He's made life miserable for Grant and Grant's finally
screwed himself up to ask for Butler's removal. Are you
willing to consent to it and do you think, if we do, that
Grant'll be forced to change his notion within twenty-four
hours? My idea is that we ought to back Grant up and send
Butler to hell where he belongs."

 "Butler should be in town to-day," remarked Lincoln. "He
telegraphed me a few days ago, asking permission to come
and testify before the Committee on the Conduct of the
War."

 "He's down in your parlor at this moment," growled
Stanton, Ylaving a dish of tea with Mrs Lincoln. I put my
head in the door and backed out. The Committee on the
Conduct of the War has my sympathy! Butler'll stand them
on their heads. He's clever as Satan. How much money do
you think he's made out of the high offices he's held during
this war?"

 "I don't know that he's made a penny," replied Lincoln
with a troubled air.

 "I dol" exclaimed Stanton. "I have positive proof that when
he went to New Orleans he was worth about $150,000.
To-day, he's worth

$1,000,000."

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 407

 Stanton's word on such a matter was not to be doubted.
Lincoln's lips tightened. He knotted his black tie which hung
loose, smoothed his hair and rose. "I reckon old Ben has
outlived his usefulness to this administration. You O.K.
Grant's request and I'll go down and break the news to the
General before he comes up here and camps. I've learned
that it's easier to move myself out of the pallor than it is to
move some folks out of my office."

 Stanton smiled and patted the President's arm
affectionately. "Need any help, sir?" he asked, following him
to the door.

"Thank you for nothing!" grunted Lincoln.

Stanton laughed.

 He accompanied Lincoln to the very door of the red pallor
and left him with a snort compounded of sympathy, approval,
and amusement. With a little sense of dread Lincoln entered
the softly lighted room. One never knew just how yellow
Butler might turn.

 Mary with the tea equipment sat before the fire talking to
General Butler, who stood in full dress parade on the hearth;
sword, yellow sash, epaulettes, gold oak leaves, velvet cuffs,
buff gloves, a contrast to Lincoln's memory of Grant's shabby
uniform.

"Well, General," said Lincoln, quietly.

 "Not well, at all, Mr. President." Butler shook hands. "Grant
and I are at serious outs."

 Lincoln slumped into a rocking chair opposite Mary and
shook his head at her gesture toward the teapot. Butler
resumed his place on the hearth.

 "I thought you and General Grant had patched up a
water-tight peace," said the President.

 "So did I. Come, Mr. Lincoln, tell me why Grant has asked
for my resignation?"

 The President gave him a keen look. "You shouldn't come
to me with questions of that sort, General. Let your own
conscience answer."

 "Oh, Mr. Lincolnt" protested Mary. "To a man who's done
such splendid work as General Butler?"

 "Conscience?" ejaculated Butler. "Then you too have a
grievance against me?"

 "General Grant's grievances are bound to be mine," Lincoln
spoke coolly. "The only complaint he's made to me is that
you've been letting too much food be traded into Richmond.
He says you and your brotherin-law are getting rich off it.
But if you hadn't failed him in a military way, he could get
around the other, I reckon. Has he gone after you on this
matter?"

 "I've learned that he's written to Stanton asking him to
retire me. I know I can get nothing from Stanton so I've
come to you. This can't be, Mr. Lincoln. I'll make it so hot
for Grant "

 "Tutl Tut, Generall That's childish. Grant is winning the
war for us. If he says you must go, you must go." Lincoln
clasped his left knee and looked at Butler with a slight scowl.

408 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

"Don't you think General Butler should be told why?" asked
Mary.

"Butler knows why," replied the President, quietly.

 "The tune is changed, I see, since you won your reelection,
sir," sneered the General.

 "Yes, the tune has changed. But it needn't have. You've
slipped on the banana peel of your own avarice, General.
Come now, you've done a great work for your country. Be
content to leave the military clean-up to Grant. There'll be
plenty of administrative work later that will demand your
peculiar genius."

 "One needs to be in Congress for that," said Butler sourly.
Then he gave the President a wary glance. "Though I have
my influences up at the Capitol right now that're not
precisely despicable."

 "I know you have, General," agreed Lincoln heartily. "I
wish I had 'em myself."

"They're at your disposal, Mr. Lincoln'" said Butler, "if "

 Lincoln shook his head. "No, thanks, General. One simply
can't handle Sumner that way."

"Sumner7 Sumner has his price, like any other maul" cried
Butler.

 "No, he hasn'tl Indeed not, GeneralI" Mary leaned
earnestly across the table.

 "Oh, well, I'm not going to debate with one of his lady
friends as to thatl" The little officer's voice was mocking.

 Lincoln suddenly rose. Butler was going to be nasty. "If
you'll come over to Stanton's office, right now, we'll see if
he's holding anything up from Grant," he said.

"Oh, but wait a moment!" protested Mary. "Ah, there he is
cowl"

 Senator Trumbull was emerging from behind the red velvet
door hangings Butler's jaw dropped. Lincoln walked slowly
to meet his old friend. The two paused under the gilt
chandelier. Trumbull was a thin man with sharp features and
keen blue eyes behind spectacles. He looked like a village
schoolmaster but his air was that of a man of the world.

 He looked up quizzically at the President and held out his
hand. His voice was preternaturally grave and dry as he said,
"Mother, I've come home to diel But I want your forgiveness
first."

 Lincoln let out a roar of laughter such as the White House
had not heard from him in many months.

 "Your figure's a lithe mixed, Senatorl What you want is the
fatted calf, How about it, Mrs. Lincoln? And here's General
Butlerl You know the author of the Woman Order7"

 Butler shook hands, remarking with a curious smile, "I can
fully understand why my poor offer of a few moments ago
was refused so lightly." Senator Trumbull gave him a puzzled
glance but did not rise to the insinuation. Instead he asked
Mary if she was attending the Italian Opera that night.
Butler listened for a moment, then bowed and went out. Lin-
coln wondered a little uneasily what sort of pressure Butler
would next exert, then he forgot him.

THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 40g

 Trumbull was seated near the tea table and the President
joined him. Mary covered what might have been an awkward
moment by asking the Senator if he thought this Congress
would pass the Thirteenth Amendment.

 "We're still doubtful," replied Trumbull. "I don't quite
understand Sumner in this, unless he hopes that if it fails he
can get an amendment phrased in his own way. He has that
kind of vanity, I'm afraid."

 "I think you're mistaken there," protested the President.
"What does he do or say? Is he actually blocking it?"

 "Well, not He merely refused to help." Trumbull accepted
a cup of tea from Mary. "He says he'll Omit it to pass if it
has the strength! But he prophesies that there'll not be
enough States to ratify it, even if it passes Congress. If he
kills the admission of Louisiana, of course, he may be right."

 "No, he isn't)" said Lincoln grimly. "When I fixed it up last
year to get Nevada in and on the right side I settled that
point. It cost me two internal revenue collectorships and one
customs' house appointment to get the requisite votes from
certain members of Congress, and was an altogether unmoral
proceeding. Sumner twitted me with it at the time, so he's
talking nonsense. How much depends on him?"

 "The Camden and Amboy Railroad interests," replied the
Senator, "promise that if Congress will postpone the Raritan
Railroad bill over this session they'll make the New Jersey
Democrats help about the Amendment. Sumner's in charge
of the Raritan bill in the Senate. His theory is that the bill, in
crushing the railroad monopoly, will crush out the last of the
States' rights dogma. The Camden and Amboy exacts toll
from everything passing through the State, you know, Mrs.
Lincoln."

Mary nodded. "Sounds as if Mr. Sumner had right on his
side."

 "He has," agreed Trumbull, frankly, "but in this instance he
ought to let the lesser evil help to wipe out the greater. The
monopolies will be crushed in good time. Mr. Lincoln, we'd
like to have you send for Sumner and urge him to be
practical."

 Lincoln looked doubtful. "I'm willing but useless, Senator.
I can do nothing with Mr. Sumner in these matters. While
he's very cordial to me, he's making his history in an issue
with me on this very point. He hopes to succeed in beating
the President so as to change this Government from its
original form and make it a strongly centralised power. I
think he'd be all the more resolute in his persistence if he
supposed I were at all watching his course in this matter. I
think the Amendment'll go through, Trumbull. I'm not
worrying about it. What I'm Iying awake nights over is the
recognition of Louisiana."

 Trumbull leaned forward to poke the fire. Lincoln and
Mary exchanged glances, then Lincoln cleared his throat and
plunged.

"Are you still hostile to my ten per cent governments,
Senator?"

 Trumbull set the poker carefully in the rack and leaning
back in his chair placed his finger tips together and said
thoughtfully, "What has come

410 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

to me as I've watched the quarrelingof my own committee,
the indecision and vacillation of any committee that has tried
to draw up a hard-cast rule for all the seceded States7 is that
it's impossible to reconstruct on any rigid theory of coercion.
It has thus gradually dawned on me that your idea of
encouraging the loyalists to keep alive a form of State
government that shall allow the people to make their own
laws is the only feasible plan."

 "Yesl Yesl" exclaimed Lincoln eagerly. "Now here's the
nub of itl You are chairman of the judiciary committee.
Your committee must pass on the eligibility of the
Senators-elect from Louisiana. Can Louisiana be brought
into proper practical relation with the Union sooner by
admitting or by rejecting the proposed Senators7"

"I believe in admitting the Senators," replied Trumbull
cautiously.

"How does your committee stand?" asked Lincoln, his pulse
quickening.

 "They're doubtful. They're afraid Banks has misrepresented
facts. They feel the matter's been too much a personal
arrangement between you and Banks."

 "That's easy to disprovel" Lincoln rose. "Mrs. Lincoln will
excuse us while I take you up to see the correspondence
between Banks and me." He led the way out. "I'll show you
all of Banks' letters with those of the rest of the Louisiana
crowd."

 They mounted the stairs rapidly, both men moved by this
revival of their old friendship and anxious to avoid showing
their emotion. In the office Lincoln placed his files before
the Senator. Banks' letters proved him to be a man of parts
and Lincoln was glad to have one of his critics read them.

 After a few moments, "This is exactly what I need," gloated
Trumbull. "Now, to quote yourself, I can rider"

"How far?" asked Lincoln tensely, his throat suddenly
constricting.

 "Well," Trumbull was pale, "give me a little time and I'll
introduce from my committee a joint resolution, recognising
the Government of Louisiana."

"AhI" breathed the President, his lips twitching.

 Trumbull looked at him. "Of course, you realize, Mr.
Lincoln," smiling sadly, "that I'm turning traitor to my old
running mates and that they'll fight me to the death, with
Charles Sumner leading them."

 Lincoln jumped to his feet and put his hand on Trumbull's
shoulder. "I knowl I know! But you have the strategic
advantage of your position.  This this," he put a hand on
Trumbull's other shoulder, "this is a great evening for me,
Senator. 'For this my brother was lost and is found ' You
know, Trumbulll"

"Yes, I know, Lincoln I'll just take these along and have
copies made."

 When Lincoln went into his wife's room later, she was
lifting a great sheaf of roses from a florist's box.

 "Mr. Sumner's reply to my apology," she said, with a little
unhappy smile.

 "I told you you'd both resort eventually to the language of
flowers!" Lincoln laughed heartily and after a moment Mary
joined him.

CHAPTER XX

            CLEARING TnE DECKS

1UMNER received the news of Trumbull's treason in the cloak
room of the Senate. Ben Wade told him. Senator Sumner
stared at him, ~ listened with scorn to the oaths that
adorned Wade's tale, then stalked out into the Capitol
rotunda where he stood wrapped in his blue fur-lined
mantle, head bowed over his folded arms the conventional
picture of outraged despair. To do him justice, he was quite
unconscious of posing. He had been so long in the public eye
that it had become second nature to the Senator to live up
to people's favorite conception of him. Men passing to and
fro looked at him with interest but no one spoke to him and
he was not disturbed until, following an altercation, a man
in a wide-brimmed felt hat struck a man in a sealskin cap
standing at the Senator's elbow.

 Sumner roused and stepped between them, recognising at
once one of the Congressmen-elect from Louisiana and a
radical member of the House.

 "Come, gentlemen, this won't dol" protested Sumner
firmly. "Blows will never settle this bitter problem. Thinkl
Think!"

 "Think helll" shouted the Louisianian. "What we should
have brought up here is one good nigger overseer. He'd have
handled a few of you spouting Yankees so that you'd have
known that Louisiana was something more than a State of
mind."

 The crowd, that had gathered quickly, laughed. Sumner
turned away with disgust. As he did so, he caught sight of
Representative Hooper peering over the heads of the crowd.

 "I was looking for you, Charles," said Hooper, as Sumner
came up to him. "You've neglected us lately. Come home to
dinner with me now. Yes," as the Senator began to shake his
head, "I know you breakfast late, but we don't dine until two.
I want to hear about Lyman Trumbull and what your plans
are. Nothing has occurred, I hope," looking up into Sumner's
face a little anxiously, "to anger you with us? I've always
been frank with you about my sympathies with Lincoln."

 Sumner jerked his great head impatiently. "No! Nol Don't
make me appear too infantile, Sam. I've not been to see you
lately because Alice and I "

 Hooper interrupted. "Alice told me. But Alice's vagaries
have nothing to do with the relations between you and me.
Alice is a law unto herself."

 "Do you think she'd object to my coming?" asked Sumner.
"I I long to accept your invitation, Saml"

Hooper thrust his arm firmly under the Senator's. "You
come along

41Z WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

with me, Charles," and he did not loosen his hold until he had established the Senator in
a nest of fur robes in his sleigh.

 It was a glorious winter noon and Washington was out enjoying it. Sleighs and the jingle
of sleigh bells mingled with drum rolls and bugle calls. Even the mud of Pennsylvania
Avenue could not tarnish all the bright beauty of the great snowfall of the previous night.
Hooper could not resist the temptation to prolong the short drive between the Capitol and
his house. They drove along New Jersey Avenue until they met Alice and Isabella
prancing homeward in a gay red sleigh that flaunted a dozen plumes from dashboard and
horse collars. Alice7 palely magnificent in sealskin, bowed, while Isabella, in white rabbit,
screamed:

"Oh, Senatorl Senatorl Take me in with your"

 "He's coming home to dinner, so calm your ardor, Isabellal" called her grandfather,
turning his Morgans cleverly to follow his daughter-in-law's equipage.

 Alice met them, later, in the dining room, her manner cool and a little watchful. Hooper
kept the conversation in his own hands, made Sumner tell him about Trumbull and
allowed the Senator to give vent to his excited irritation only when he told of the fight he
proposed to organize against the renegade Jacobin. Alice did not contribute anything but
polite necessities to the conversation until Sumner had finished his outburst. Then she
said, as she used her finger bowl daintily:

 "If I were you, Senator, I'd have a talk with the President before actually going on the
warpath. I do still think, as I've said repeatedly, that the most regrettable thing in public
life to-day is that Abraham Lincoln and Chades Sumner aren't working in harmony."

 "By Judas, you're right, Alicel" exclaimed Hooper. "Charles, do be persuaded! Give
yourself and the President another chance. Don't let your personal "

 "PIeasel" Sumner stretched out a long arm in protest. "I beg of you, Sam, don't insist
again on my petulance. No one appreciates Lincoln more than I. I outgrew my prejudices
against him long ago. I recognize his essential integrity of purpose. I know he's utterly free
of malice and unworthy ambition. I've even come to enjoy his speech. It's logical and
spirited and full of quaint humor. His mind works with a sinewy sententiousness that
sometimes captivates me. He's an utter original. In fact, he's instituted a new and superb
order of state papers that Seward's quite incapable of appreciating. I've learned to love
him. But with all that, I cannot and will not agree with him on his way of reconstruction.
I must notl"

 Alice rose from the table. "Won't you both have tea or coffee with me in the little
pallor, rather than wine together here?"

 Both men rose, Sumner with alacrity. But Hooper said with an inquiring glance at the
other two that he was due at a committee meeting at three.

"Then the Senator must let me continue my pleas alone," said Alice,

 graciously.                                                ;

CLEARING THE DECKS 413

 Sumner blinked but opened the door for her with a distinct
look of pleasure. He seated Alice before the fire in the cozy
little parloroff the formal drawing room, gave her a fire
screen, then in the armchair opposite warmed his hands.

"So I'm forgiven, dear Alice?" he said.

 She arranged the folds of her dark velvet skirts for a
moment before she looked up at him to say, "I thought that
I was the one that gave offensel" Her face was sober. "I was
sorry that you misunderstood me, dear Senator. I've missed
you and your approval."

 He leaned forward, studying her face. Then he said
earnestly, "Don't play with me, Alice. I shall need all my
forces the next few weeks. Even a tragic certainty will scatter
them less than an uncertainty with regard to you. And yet,"
laying his hand for a fleeting moment over hers, "I would to
God that I was uncertain!"

 She smiled. "Let's leave it that you may be uncertain and
go on to consider my request that you go for a final talk with
Mr. Lincoln."

 "Alice, he and I have talked until neither of us dares say
more for fear of an utter break." He leaned back in his chair,
his eyes on her delicate loveliness.

 "You must promise me not to break with himl" cried Alice,
her cheeks flushing. "Senator, a break with him must mean a
break with me."

 "Nor" he winced. "Don't say that, I implore you, for I can't
promise, Alice. This is a brutal game I'm playing. Don't
weaken me."

She tried to press her advantage. "I must say that."

 He moved his head uneasily as though in pain. "But must
it always be sol" he mourned. "Can't I keep my dearest
associations in life untainted by battler Why must you thrust
Lincoln between use"

"Why did you break with the Adams, the Sewards, the "

 He sighed. "I can't stand this. Will you allow me to go up
to see Isabella7"

 Alice pulled the bellrope beside the mantel. "I'll have her
brought down here. But" leaning forward in her turn and
for a fleeting moment laying her hand over his "love is a
force greater than patriotism and eventually, if you truly care,
you're going to give in to me, Charles," accenting his name
which she used for the first time in all their long friendship.

 His whole face lighted. It was as if his youth had
miraculously returned. But as they sat waiting in silence for
the child and he turned over in his mind the full significance
of her words, the light behind his eyes burned lower and
lower, until, as Isabella danced into the room, it flickered out
to be replaced by a quiet tenderness for the little girl.

 When Sumner started back to the Capitol a half hour later,
Fred Douglass, who had been waiting outside the gate, fell
into step with him. He, too, had heard of Trumbull's about
face and wanted information. When Sumner had told him, he
exclaimed:

"Mr. Sumnerl I'm more discouraged than ever. If Mr.
Lincoln's actually

414 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

going to back such a bill, we're lost. He's a terrible fighter.
The patient, good-humored kind sometimes are. What shall
we dol"

 "Fight harder than he does," replied Sumner. "I'm sure
we'll win in the end because we're right."

 The colored man shook his head. "I've learned to know
him well and from a side no white man could get. I
wonder his heart is so large do you suppose if I went to
him and pleaded I could get him to give up this billy"

 Sumner, striding over the snowy paths at a terrific rate,
gave the matter thought. At first he shook his head, then as
if to prove how desperate he actually felt his need to be in
the impending struggle, he said, "Well, a good general misses
no chances. It can do no harm for you to talk with the
President and it might accomplish something. God bless you.
Let me know what comes of it."

 A little later in the afternoon, Lincoln looked up from his
desk to greet the colored leader.

 "Ah, Douglassl" he exclaimed, rising to shake hands, then
drawing Douglass down into the chair by his desk. "How are
you getting on? Tired like the rest of us, I can see. Well, it
can't be long, now. Are you moderately well satisfied with
the course of events? Are you worried sick like the rest of us
for fear General Lee'll escape to the mountains? Guerilla
war prolonged for years, that would mean."

 "General Grant will take care of that, sir," replied
Douglass, twisting his soft hat in his powerful, gnarled hands.
"As far as guerilla warfare goes, colored people properly
armed have a gift for it greater even than the slave holders
have."

 "Well," Lincoln rubbed the back of his aching head, "I
hope you're right. Did you come with something special on
your mind to-day, friend Douglass?"

 "Yes, Mr. President, I'm breaking my heart over your
pending bill for Louisiana. It leaves negro suffrage out. I
can't understand your attitude in spite of all you've said to
me."

 "Can you understand Mr. Sumner's attitude toward the
Thirteenth Amendments" asked Lincoln slyly.

"No, sir, but I can explain him, in general, better than I can
you."

 Lincoln laid down his pen and settled himself with his feet
on the rim of the waste paper basket. Douglass always
succeeded in rousing his interest.

 "Come now, what's the difference between the Senator and
my humble self, if the comparison isn't odious?" he asked,
with a smile.

 There was something dogged about Douglass' manner in
replying, as though he was determined to humor the
President but equally determined not to be drawn too far
from his purpose.

 "Mr. Sumner's a lawmaker for all men, white or black.
You, sir, are preeminently the white man's President. Mr.
Sumner's willing to sacrifice even the Union to free the
slaves. You, sir, are ready to deny or postpone or sacrifice
the human rights of the colored people to promote the
welfare

CLEARING THE DECKS 415

of the whites. You were ready to execute all the supposed
constitutional guarantees in favor of the slave system
anywhere in the slave States. You were ready to suppress a
slave rising for liberty, although his guilty master was already
in arms against the Government."

  Douglass paused and his piercing dark eyes fastened on the
distant half shaft of the Washington Monument, softened and
dulled until it seemed to Lincoln that the man was in a
trance. To rouse him, the President said:

  "I had thought the negro looked on me as his friend. Is this
name, Father Abraham, mere flattery?"

  After a moment, Douglass replied slowly. "They don't know
as I do that we're not the special objects of your
consideration. Your own race has your deepest solicitude.
They're your children. We're only your stepchildren, children
by adoption, children by force of circumstance and necessity."

  "The man thinks in straight lines, straighter than most of
my associates," thought Lincoln. Aloud, he sought to prick
Douglass on by saying, "And with Mr. Sumner it's different,
eh7"

  "Yes, sir, we come first with Senator Sumner. And yet, it's
not strange that it's Abraham Lincoln who set us free."

  Lincoln shook his head at Nicolay who appeared with a tray
of papers. The sweat was standing on Douglass' forehead.

  "The reason for that is that yours is the bigger mind and
you have better self-direction. And the very fact that you
share the prejudice of your countrymen toward us has made
it possible for you to organize them for this war. If you'd
been like Mr. Sumner, without prejudice, and had put
abolition before the salvation of the Union, your people
never would have resisted the Rebellion. The Abolitionists
think you're tardy, dull, cold. But for the average
slow-thinking white, you're swift, zealous, determined. Your
statesmanship, not Mr. Sumner's, has made abolition
possible."

  Lincoln spoke firmly. "You mustn't speak as if I approved
of slavery! I despise it. If slavery's not wrong, nothing's
wrong."

  Douglass nodded vigorously. "We know that and on that
we've pinned our faith. And, sir, I wonder if you realize what
a lot of faith we've needed at times. You tarried long in the
mountains. You advised us to migrate from our native land.
You refused to use us as soldiers. You said you'd save the
Union, with slavery, if necessary. You revoked General
Fremont's proclamation of emancipation. You clung to
General McClellan, who was more zealous to save slavery
than the Union. And yet," turning suddenly, his beautiful eyes
now burning with intensity, "our hearts believed while they
ached and bled that the hour and the man had somehow met
in the person of Abraham Lincoln."

  "Don't you understand why I did those things, Douglass?"
exclaimed Lincoln.

"Yes, Mr. President, to save the Union."

416 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 Lincoln jerked his head impatiently and would have
spoken but Douglass was before him.

 "Aye, sir, you have strained our faith but though the
Union is more to you than our freedom or our future, we
bow before you when we count the blessings that have come
to us under your reign. Hayti's independence recognized,
slave trade abolished, and the Proclamation of
Emancipation. Sir, having given us all this, why do you
continue to deny us the franchiser"

 "Still harping on my daughter!" groaned Lincoln. "I've no
new reasons, Mr. Douglass. You know them all. I'll add
though that I'm very certain that, in the next four years,
every slave-holding State will pass laws themselves giving
suffrage to the negroes who can read and write; certain if we
don't now, by national legislation, try to cram it down their
throats. I fear a reign of horror after the war in which your
colored folks'll get the worst of it, unless we conciliate where
we can conciliate. I'm immovable on this, Mr. Douglass. The
part of wisdom for you is to make both your white and your
black friends understand this. That is if you've fully grasped
my reasons yourself. I sometimes doubt it, because I seem
to make no impression on you."

 "I understand," still pulling and twisting the soft hat. "But
again you're arguing the white cause, Mr. Lincoln, and I'm
the negro."

 After a thoughtful moment Lincoln rose and held out his
hand. "Well, thank you for coming to see me. Good
afternoon, Mr. Douglass."

 Douglass took the extended hand and stared up at the
President, his eyes slowly filling with tears.

                CHAPTER XXI
          STARTING FROM PAUMONOK

 i` LICE HOOPER told Mary that she was doing her
utmost to get [\ Senator Sumner to compromise with the
President but when his 1 ~ wife reported this to Lincoln, he
laughed. "Sumner's less apt to compromise now than ever.
He's too mad with Trumbull and he's pretty sure we've got
him licked. We've got the majority of the Senate with us and
the House is going to pass the bill after it finishes with the
oratory. Mrs. Hooper has no chance at all to drive Sumner
in this."

 "But you wouldn't prevent his talking to you, would your"
asked Mary, anxiously.

 "Certainly not. He's in and out of the office every day or
so on other matters. I'm giving him every opportunity either
you or Mrs. Hooper could demand. But," with a cheerful
laugh, "I've finally taught him how to take a licking!"

 But even this optimistic mood could not do much to
mitigate the strain that the march of events was bringing
upon him. As Grant slowly but surely closed the terrible jaws
of war on Richmond, the President was besieged more and
more by excited Northerners demanding that he make peace
at once. People were frantic to stop the bloodshed. Lincoln
felt the pressure of their outcries more than had been his
wont. Dr. Stone warned him again that his nerves were
nearing exhaustion. Lincoln, apropos of this, told Mary that
he supposed he was like one of the ancient Marathon
runners, who, as he neared the goal, eyes popping, tongue
hanging out, moved his legs on hope and nothing else.

 Lincoln did not believe that Jeff Davis had been licked
enough, yet. But, not unwilling to learn the views of the
Rebel President, he allowed the elder Blair, who had been
a close friend of Davis before the war, to go down to
Richmond to feel out conditions there. But he still thought
so little of peace probabilities that when, as a result of
Blair's gesture, three commissioners from Richmond asked
for a hearing on peace proposals, he did not go down to the
meeting place off Fortress Monroe himself, but sent Seward.
These men were not coming, his intuitions told him, in an
attitude of mind that could bear fruit. And anyhow, he could
not bear to desert Trumbull in the preparations for the
impending struggle in the Senate. Every moment he could
spare was given to what he told Nicolay was the conversion
of souls.

 "Even the war mustn't come between me and Trumbull,"
with a twinkle of tired eyes. "I often wonder how it'll seem
to handle reconstruction without Stanton and Grant on my
back: and with Andy Johnson actually helping instead of
hindering like dear old Hamlin. I've an idea that any

418 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

difficulties I'll have with Johnson will be with his disposition.
They say he's very irritable. Maybe he does drink too much.
I hope the time'll come when there won't be a slave or a
drunkard on earthl"

  The Thirteenth Amendment passed on the last day of
January and this gave the final touch to his optimism.
Sumner, after all, was not invincible!

  But Seward, somehow, didn't bring events on as Lincoln
had hoped he would at Fortress Monroe. Grant, watchful
and uneasy and with a growing appreciation of Lincoln's
diplomatic powers, urged the President to join the Secretary
of State. With the arrival of the General's message, Lincoln
roused from his immense preoccupation with reconstruction.
Perhaps Grant saw a chance for making an advantageous
peace nowl He slipped quietly from Washington and on the
army steamer, River Queen, went down to Fortress Monroe.

  The three commissioners came aboard early in the
morning of February third, and the conference lasted four
hours. The Southerners, haggard, hungry, their eyes ravaged
by old ferocities, made an enormous appeal to his
sympathies. This then was the look of the champions of a
lost causer But their requests touched him not at all. He
listened for a time in silence. Seward liked to lollygag, to talk
back and forth, to give here and take there, quite
unconscious of the fact that this verbal bargain hunting
invariably convinced people that he was insincere.

  Lincoln took a grim pleasure in cutting across these vast
vagaries with the blunt remark that he couldn't treat with
parties in arms against the Government. Hunter, who had
aged twenty years in the past four, reminded him that
Charles I had done so when at war with the Parliament and
Lincoln said, "I don't profess to be posted in history. On all
such matters I'll turn you over to Seward. All I distinctly
remember about Charles I is that he lost his head in the
end."

  Seward laughed and urged the commissioners to partake
of the excellent whiskey he'd brought with him. They
thanked him and absorbed the mellow fire with pleasure.
Lincoln sat watching for his chance to strike a blow for
reconstruction. There was more conversation. Stephens was
eager to know how Washington had changed and was the
Capitol finished?

  Lincoln finally interrupted. "Stephens, if I resided in
Georgia with my present sentiments, I'll tell you what I'd do
if I were in your place. I'd go home and get the Governor of
the State to call the Legislature together and get them to
recall all the State troops from this war: elect Senators and
members to Congress and ratify the Thirteenth Amendment,
prospectively, so as to take effect, say, in five years. Such a
ratification would be valid, in my opinion. Whatever may
have been the opinion of your people before the war, they
must be convinced now that slavery is doomed. It can't last
long in any event and the best course, it seems to me, for
your public men to pursue would be to adopt such a policy
as will avoid as far as possible the evils of immediate
emancipation. This would be my course were I in your
place."

"STARTING FROM PAUMONOK" 419

 Stephens shook his head, but thoughtfully. It appeared to
Lincoln that the seed was going to root and he went on.

 "It seems to me that when the war ceases, members of
Congress will be received from the Rebel States. Some of
your States are now so functioning that when war stops they'll
be at once restored to their practical relations to the Union."

 "And you think," cried Hunter, "with the temper of Sumner,
Wade, Stevens, Trumbull, such things are possible? They'll
grind our faces with their heels. They plan to confiscate "

 Lincoln interrupted. "The enforcement of the confiscation
and penal laws is in my hands, gentlemen. I shall be liberal.
The people of the North are no less responsible for slavery
than those of the South. If the war shall cease with the
voluntary abolition by the States of slavery, I would favor
payment by the Government of a fair indemnity to the
owners."

 Hunter bit at his nails. There was no sound for the moment
but the rush of water past the River Queen. Suddenly the
scene seemed utterly unreal to Lincoln; the flickering
lamplight in the little salon, with its white painted walls, the
red cloth on the round table, the ravaged faces of the
Southerners Stephens, old, old, with a feverish color in his
sunken cheeks  Seward with his cigar and with his tie riding
over his collar this was he, Abraham Lincoln, actually
preparing the way for peacel The end was in sight, the runner
nearing the goal. He must not quicken his pace or all would
be lost

 Stephens broke the silence. "We'd like an armistice while
we consider these matters!"

 An armistice! To end the bloodshed nowl God, how he
wished he could grant onel For a moment, the desire to do so
was almost irresistible. Such a gush of pity and love rose in
his heart that he dared not speak lest he show it. He closed
his eyes and sat breathing heavily then opened them to say in
a voice spent with emotion:

 "I'll grant an armistice only to consider the restoration of
the national authority. And it is to be clearly understood that
any proposals must be made on the basis of the position on
slavery assumed in my last message to Congress."

 "Nothing for us, in other words," exclaimed Hunter, bitterly,
"but unconditional surrender to the mercy of the conqueror."

 Lincoln stared at him. The man was dense! Had he not
been licked enough? Or was it possible to frame a proposal
that would not be a compromise, yet that would entice him
out of his battered stronghold. He must have time to consider
this possibility. There was no use prolonging the fruitless
talking. He rose abruptly and held out his hand to each of the
Southerners in turn. As far as Seward and the commissioners
were concerned, the conference had failed. Of course, Seward
was sanguine. Good old Seward would have been sanguine if
Noah had refused him sanctuary in the ark.

But Lincoln was not sure that, for himself, the meeting was
a failure. It

420 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

had served to convince him that it was possible now as it had
not been before, to buy peace peace and a certain amount
of good will. With a sudden rush of hope and exhilaration he
sat up in his berth that night and, by the light of a wretched
lamp, wrote out again an offer of compensation. He phrased
it as a message to Congress, asking Congress to make a joint
resolution empowering the President to pay four hundred
million dollars, about what it would cost to prolong the war
two months, to the slave holders of the seceding States if
they would cease resisting the national authority on or
before April first. If this were done, "war will cease and
armies be reduced to a basis of peace, all property except
slaves liable to confiscation or forfeiture will be released."

 He reached Washington obsessed with the idea that he
had found the answer to all the intricate problems that
blackened the sky. He locked himself in his room and
perfected the message, then called the Cabinet together and
submitted it to them. He was keyed to so high a pitch of
hope, he saw the feasibility of his plan so clearly, that he
could not believe when he looked up from his reading that
he was interpreting the expression of their faces correctly.
But when they began to put their indignant negation into
words, he understood that he'd been living for twenty-four
hours in a fool's paradise. His high hopes collapsed with a
roar about his ears. He did not listen long to the members
but dismissed them wearily. If his own Cabinet reacted thus,
it was worse than foolish to present the idea to the hostile
Congress. He made a memorandum on the back of the

cument:

 "Feb. 6, 1865. Draft of message to Congress not signed or
sent. Today these papers which explain themselves were
drawn up and submitted to the Cabinet and unanimously
disapproved by them."

 He was still staring sadly at the papers when Nicolay came
in. "George," Lincoln said in a voice scarcely articulate, "they
wouldn't listen to mel"

 Nicolay returned through teeth set with disgust, "My dear
Mr. Lincoln, you didn't expect them, did you, to recognize
pure charity or true wisdom? If I were you, sir "

 He was interrupted by the Attorney General, who rushed
in with violent disapproval in every line of his face.

 "Mr. Lincoln, I cannot let all these pardons for deserters
go through! Indeed I can'tl Stanton "

 Lincoln looked up at him and shouted, "If you think that
I, of my own free will, will shed another drop of blood "

 He paused, for the Attorney General's face grew suddenly
distorted before his eyes. The walls of the room closed in on
the very desk. Lincoln put out an uncertain, appealing
hand and fainted.

 A little later he became aware of excited voices and of
being carried to his room. When he came completely to
himself he was in bed. The are burned brightly. Winter
twilight framed in the windows with the curtains stirring
slightly from the draughty cracks. Some one sitting by his
bed

"STARTING FROM PAUMONOK" 421

holding his hand Mary. Dr. Stone's beard at the bed foot.
Lincoln smiled at him.

 "Back again, elk" said the doctor, drily. "Now, I tell you
once more, Mr. Lincoln, that unless you have shorter work
hours, Andrew Johnsontll be the occupant of the White
House before another year's out. You fainted from
exhaustion. I'm leaving no medicines, but I'm holding Mrs.
Lincoln responsible for the amount of rest you take in the
next tWenbfour hours."

"How much do I have to take?" asked Lincoln in alarm.

  "Twenb-four hours of it. After that, a ten-hour day of work
only," ferociously from Dr. Stone. "I'll be back in the morning.
Nothing but food and a sniff of your smelling salts, Madam
President, remember," and he stalked out.

  It was peaceful peaceful had to stay in bed.... After a
time, Mary's tender voice, "How do you feel now, my dear
ones"

  "Well, just about like I've felt every day lately. As if every
one of the grist grinding through the office, from Senator
MacDougall demanding war with France down to some poor
woman after a job, had darted at me. As if they'd taken their
thumb and finger, picked out their special piece of my vitality,
and carried it off. I feel flabby. Mary, I was in the midst of a
talk with the Attorney General. I reckon I can have him in
here, eh?"

  "I'd shut the door in the face of one of the British Royalb
if he tried to come in here to talk to you," declared Mary.
"Your next interview's going to be with Mr. Pickwick."

  She read Pickwick to him until laughter made him hungry,
when she gave him food. Then "Midsummer Night's Dream"
until he fell asleep. It was late the next morning when he
awoke. After breakfast she sent Tad in with his game of lotto
and the two worked happily at this until Lincoln fell into
another deep slumber. When he roused from this she was
ready with a bowl of broth and a recent volume of Whitman
which she had borrowed from John Hay.

  "I've found a new way for you to get out of Washington,"
she said, opening the book and beginning to read to him
"Starting from Paumonok."

  He lay entranced until she had finished the last fine line.
Then he begged for the book and his spectacles and, during
the remainder of his second evening in bed, he memorised
passages that had caught his fancy particularly. His mind was
packed with poetry he had been treasuring since childhood.
He told himself he could well move out some of the old
lumber to make room for this pure treasure.

               CHAPTER XXII
             THE BLIND VICTOR

  RUMBULL'S idea was that the chief thing he had to fear
for the I Louisiana resolution was prolonged debate. This
would give Sumner, the arch debater, a chance to delay the
voting until the end of the session, March 3. So it was not
until the last week in February, when numerous important
financial bills were still before the Senate, that he introduced
what was called the President's bill. Lincoln agreed that if
the bill would go through at all, it would go in one day's
time, perhaps two. He and Trumbull had an easy majority,
once a vote was forced.

  On the morning of the twenty-third, he sent Nicolay up to
the Capitol to follow the course of the battle. Then he set
himself grimly to work at his inaugural address. Nicolay
came in just before supper. Lincoln looked up at the
saturnine young face and dropped his pencil.

"Let's have it, George," he said quietly.

  Sumner, Nicolay said, as soon as the resolution had been
read in full, rose and stated his position.

  "I have joined other Senators who resisted the recognition
of the Government of Louisiana because it was initiated by
executive and military orders and an insufficient voting
population. I insist on these objections in association with
these aforementioned Senators. But I stand alone inexorable
in the demand that all men, irrespective of color, shall be
equal as citizens in the reorganized States. In this stand, I
will yield to no asserted urgency, no supposed adverse public
opinion, no technical point of constitutional disability, no
vote of caucus, no defeats in either House, not even up to
the pressure and prestige of the President himself. I have
made up my mind to stop the admission of rebellious States
to the Union without absolute guarantees of freedom and
equality, including suffrage, for negroes upon precisely the
same terms as applied to white men. I propose to avail
myself of all the resources of parliamentary law to defeat
this measure even if, its promoters refusing to yield, the
revenue 'end appropriations bills shall be lost."

  As Sumner paused, a stir swept over the Senate Chamber.
Senator Trumbull came to his feet but before he could get
Hamlin's attention, Sumner, great head stretched forward
like a charging stallion, roared:

  "You, sir, are keeping strange company and talking a
strange language. Why this sudden change of fronts By
whom or what have you been seduced7" Laughter came at
this point from the Democratic Senators, who were delighted
beyond measure by this split among the Republicans.
Whirling from Trumbull to Hamlin in the chair, Sumner
continued, "I move an immediate consideration of the
interstate commerce bill, which is

THE BLIND VICTOR 423

a practical measure, while the Louisiana measure will prove
a mere dance of debate."

 Trumbull's voice, low but peculiarly clear, cut across
Sumner's roar: "Mr. President, if a single negro is expelled
from the street cars in the District of Columbia, the voice of
the Senator from Massachusetts is raised in protest. He will
take up the time of Congress about the rights of the negroes,
but he will not give a hearing to the 1o,ooo loyal whites of
Louisiana. Let us not waste time, Mr. President. Let us take
a vote. There is no need to debate this matter. Every Senator
present knows every detail of this bill and already has
expressed an opinion on it. The majority here are in favor of
it. Let us not permit an infinitesimal minority to block its
passage. I assure you, Mr. President, that I shall not speak at
length, shall not attempt debate. If the other members will act
in harmony with me, it will be a simple matter to pass this bill
and return to the financial measures. Let us take a vote now."

Sumner spoke calmly. "I assure the Senator it is utterly
impossible."

 Senator Wade jumped to his feet. "I refuse to be drawn into
debate, but I wish to ask the Senator from Illinois whence
comes this new-born zeal for Louisiana7 How long is it since
he believed it should not be recognized? How long7 It is the
most miraculous conversion since St. Paul's. You and I didn't
differ formerly on this, sir."

 Trumbull stood with lips firmly compressed, eyes blazing
behind his spectacles. "I am not to be drawn off. I move a
vote."

 "I move a substitute!" exclaimed Sumner, and began to read
aloud a bill forbidding elections in any State until the
President had proclaimed that all hostility had ceased within
the State and Congress had declared it entitled to
representation.

 Trumbull was able to cut discussion of the substitute short,
bring it to a vote and defeat it. Sumner then proposed an
amendment. Senator Howard of Michigan immediately
plunged into an elaborate speech, backing Sumner, and for
two hours would not yield the floor. When he finished, Ben
Wade got through a motion to adjourn, which Trumbull
defeated. Johnson of Maryland now made an hour's talk for
the bill. The dance of debate was on and was still on when
Nicolay left.

 Lincoln listened to Nicolay in silence till the young secretary
had read the last of his notes, then he asked, "Is Trumbull
discouraged?"

 "No, sir. Only seven men voted for Sumner's substitute. He
thinks you can handle most of them and hamstring Sumner
so."

 "None of them can beat Sumner in longwindedness," mused
Lincoln. "I'm disappointed, but we've still got a fifty per cent
chance of winning."

 The several recalcitrant Senators called on the President the
next morning. He was able to win Howard but not the others.
The debate began again that afternoon. Sumner attempted
again and again to introduce other business but each time was
voted down. The temper of the members grew bitter toward
him. Shouts rose, "Don't waste our time, Sumnerl" "Give it
upl" "Give it up!"

4z4 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "That's not my habit," answered Sumner and he introduced
another substitute, which was voted down. Then he proposed
an amendment.

 Men went round to his seat and pleaded with him,
confidentially, to let the vote on the President's bill be taken.

 "But that would be to pass it," smiled Sumner. "And the
passage of that bill would prove to be the political Bul] Run
of this Administration."

 He rose to propose a fourth amendment. People in the
gallery hissed. Representatives who had strolled over from
the House, which had passed the bill, groaned. After this
amendment had been voted down, and the early winter
twilight proclaimed that the day was done, Trumbull moved
an evening session "to give the Senator from Massachusetts
an opportunity to say all he has to say." Amidst sardonic
laughter, the motion passed and at seven o'clock the Senate
again convened.

 The galleries were packed. The moment the session
opened, Sumner moved to adjourn. He lost. Ben Wade then
repeated the motion and was voted down. Zachary Chandler
moved to adjourn. He lost amidst hoots and groans. It was
now nine o'clock. Trumbull deliberately rose and accused
Sumner of "keeping up a factious resistance in order to feel
a spurious authority over the eighteen Senators who desired
to pass the bill."

Sumner laughed, sardonically.

 Senator Doolittle rose to his feet and called on the
American people to witness this scene in the Senate,
"particularly the arrogance of the Senator from
Massachusetts, who is attempting single-handed to break
down the right of every State to judge its own suffrage."

 Wade remarked that if the Chief Executive had to depend
on poor things like Doolittle to press his measures, the Chief
Executive was in a bad way. Doolittle retorted and many
precious minutes were consumed before Trumbull could
silence the Senator from Wisconsin and plead with Sumner
to say his say on the bill.

 Sumner rose. It was some time before silence could be
obtained from the exasperated members, but when he had
done so, Sumner said, "I counsel the Senator from Illinois to
look at the clock and to note that it's now twenty-five
minutes to eleven with Sunday morning near. An effort to
force a vote will be as fruitless as sowing salt in the sand by
the seashore. The Senator's attempt to cram this resolution
down the throats of the Senate is comparable only to an
attempt once made by Senator Stephen Douglas, also from
Illinois, who brought in the Kansas-Nebraska bill so proudly,
confidently, almost menacingly, with the same declaration
that it was to pass in twenty-four hours. I beg of the Senate
to devote the remnant of the session to tried measures
instead of consuming it with a banding not a week old."

 "Why don't you favor the President's bill, Mr. Sumner?"
shouted a man in the gallery. "Because you despise Abe
Lincoln, ehl"

 "Nor" shouted Sumner in reply. And he launched into an
explanation of his position that continued until the galleries
were nearly empty.

THE BLIND VICTOR 4zs

 When he at last sat down, Trumbull said, "It's half after
eleven. We cannot reach a vote to-night."

"I told you so some hours ago," said Sumner.

And the weary Senate adjourned.

  Sunday was spent by Lincoln and Trumbull in anxious
consultation, both of them hoping against hope. Trumbull
went to see Sumner to urge him to come up to the White
House for a conference. But the Senator from Massachusetts
was ill in bed.

  He was in his accustomed seat, however, on Monday and
listened with inscrutable face to Senator Wade's fierce
denunciation of the President's work in Louisiana. Wade
spoke at enormous length and with the extraordinary
vehemence which always was so exhausting on his hearers.
Before he had done, men were leaning wearily on their desks.
Some of them left the Chamber.

  Senator Sherman of Ohio, as the afternoon waned, tried to
obtain consideration of a revenue measure, but this only
served to change the tenor of Wade's remarks. He began a
bitter personal attack on Trumbull who flushed, but sat as
grim as any schoolmaster watching the antics of an
incorrigible boy. Winter twilight again darkened the chamber.

  Sherman appealed to Sumner and Sumner, silencing Wade
by a gesture, rose and in a voice of indescribable weariness
once more stated his position, ending with a comment which
Nicolay took down verbatim for Lincoln's benefit.

  "The pretended State Government in Louisiana is utterly
indefensible whether you look at its origin or its character. To
describe it, I must use plain language. It is a mere seven
months' abortion, begotten by the bayonet in criminal
conjunction with the spirit of caste and born before its time,
rickety, unformed, unfinished, whose continued existence will
be a burden, a reproach, and a wrong. That is the whole
case."

  There was a dead silence after this. Sumner stood
immovable, a shadowy giant, and the men staring at him
recognised the fact that he could not be defeated. He was
arrogant, insolent and implacable. He was as terrible and as
splendid as Vesuvius.

  Trumbull turned to Nicolay and whispered, "We've lostl"
Then he walked dejectedly from the room. His fellows gave
the President's lost bill the tribute of a sigh, half of regret,
half of relief that the battle was over, and turned to
Sherman's bill.

  Nicolay dragged unwilling feet back to the White House. As
he sadly climbed the stairs to the President's office, he met
Mary on her way to serve tea in the Red Room. In response
to her eager questioning, he showed her Sumner's final
comment.

  She read it and looked up at Nicolay, her face slowly losing
colon "This will come very hard on Mr. Lincoln, George, in
his depleted state. I don't see how he's going to stand it. I've
never seen him so wrapped up in anything else but the
Emancipation Proclamation. Perhaps I'd better go with you.
No" tapping her lips "he'll need me more, later."

426 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

Nicolay nodded and continued heavily on his way.

 Lincoln, who even yet had not permitted himself to give
up hope, turned from his heavily littered desk. "News so
soon7 . . . Ah, George, my boy, don't say we're finally
licked!"

 "But we are, Mr. Lincoln," said Nicolay, huskily. He gave
his account of the afternoon, ending by laying on a sheaf of
naval reports the slip of paper containing Sumner's final
words.

 Lincoln read them. "A seven months' abortion." He
covered his eyes. After a moment, he groaned, "Sumnerl
Sumnerl Why, with your other incomparable gifts, weren't
you given the prophet's visionl Well I must think this out
again, George. Keep people away for a while, will you?"

 Nicolay went out. Lincoln felt a little dizzy, and crossing
the room to a sofa stretched himself out on it.
Thinking thinking he and his soul together again viewing
the problem; moving through endless space and gaze ing
down in cold agony on the bloody struggle which it seemed
he would not be permitted to shorten or alleviate. Why was
this sot Of what use his seeing eye if he could not convince
others of the actuality of what he saw. Where was his weak
point and what, if any, was the remedy7 Hour after hour, he
pondered on the panorama of the future which was as vivid
and as real to him as the Army of the Potomac on parade.

CHAPTER XXIII

             TAD 5 LITTLE AFFAIR

ARY sat beside the President all night. She tried, while she
knew

their futility, all the devices she could invent to rouse him to

   ~something more than his gentle "Let me think it out,
my dear."

 But at the breakfast hour, fate took a hand. James rushed
 in, his black
eyes rolling.

 "Madam, Massa Taddie ain't been in his room, all nightl
We've done searched every inch of this house and grounds,
and just now Congressman Hooper's drove up all in a lather
to say little Miss Bella's gone too and was she here?"

"Kidnapedl" screamed Mary, leaping to her feet.

 "Look for them at Senator Sumner's," cried Lincoln, his eyes
opening with a jerk.

 "Mr. Hooper did, sah. The Senata's in bed with a heart
attack and can't be disturbed. His man says they ain't been
there."

"When was Tad last seen?" asked the President.

 "He said good-night at eight o'clock," replied Mary, adding
regretfully, "I didn't leave you to tuck him in. Send some one
round to Pete Kelley's to make inquiries, James. And you,
Abra'm, had better get in touch with the Detective Police
right away. While we're waiting for Colonel Baker to get here,
we'll have breakfast."

"Yes, Mary," replied Lincoln, nodding to James, who flew.

 A hurried toilet and a more hurried breakfast on trays in
the sitting room were followed by the entry of John Hay,
carrying a bit of greasy writing paper.

 "I found this under the blotter on my desk," he explained.
"I'm sorry to intrude, Mrs. Lincoln."

 "Don't be foolish!" protested Mary, seizing the paper and
reading it aloud. "'Don't serch. Gone to Urupl"'

 It was badly printed and signed with the bloody cross that
adorned many of the anonymous threats which Lincoln and
his family received so constantly. As the President studied the
message over Mary's shoulder, Hay said, "Baker is here. I'll
fetch him, if you wish."

 Colonel Baker scrutinized the note and put it into his
pocketbook. Then, after asking Mary and the President
numerous questions, he called in the household, questioned
every one, and enjoined absolute secrecy on each for
twenty-four hours until, he said, he could get his men planted.
He begged Lincoln "to try to continue his day's routine and
Mrs. Lincoln to go to bed with an opiate." They both stared
at him, Mary with contempt, Lincoln with astonishment.

            4~8 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "There's a gang of kidnapers bent on getting your whole family," ex-
plained Baker, rubbing his beard and shaking his head at once. "You
must allow me to protect you."

 "I'm going to the home of every child Tad knows in Washington," de-
clared Mary. "Any one of them may have a valuable clew."

 Baker nodded. "That's goodl I'll send a man if you'll give me a list.
But I must ask you not to go out of these rooms to-day, Mrs. Lincoln,
and you too, Mr. President."

 "Oh, comer" protested Lincoln. "I can't stand inactive while my young
son is at the mercy of God knows what villains."

"Where would you got What would you dot" asked Baker.

 "He's right, Mr. Lincoln. Do both of you be advised by the Colonel,"
urged John Hay anxiously.

 "I'll stay in only if my wife promises to do so, also," declared Lincoln,
seeing an opportunity for controlling Mary's rashness.

 Mary stamped her foot. "Oh, I'll agreel Only don't stop here arguing.
Every moment is precious."

Colonel Baker seized his hat and a moment later the search had begun.

 The hours moved with agonizing deliberation, second merging into
slow second. It was a horrible day outside, with grey lines of sleet
cutting through grey fog. Visitors arrived with faces raw from the slash
of the storm. At intervals Lincoln tried to finish his second inaugural
address, but finally gave it up. He could think of nothing but Tad and
Isabella. His imagination ran riot. Were they sheltered from the storm
or had the brutes destined them to die of exposures Was there
information they wanted from the children and would they torture
them to get it7 Wasn't there an accomplice in the house who had
sneaked Tad out of his room7 Where was Sam Hooper7 What was he
doing7 He rang for James. The man came in with a swollen eye and
cut lips.

"What's the trouble, James7" asked Lincoln.

"Masse Lincum, sah, one of the police that Colonel Baker's got
posted
downstairs 'lowed I knew something more than I was telling about
little
Massa Tad. I give him a bust upside of his head. Did you ring for
me,
 i                                              
sah7"
 I                                              
"Yes, I did. James, my boy, you look up Congressman Hooper and
see
how he feels and if there's anything I can do. Ask him if it would
buoy
 i                                              
him and Mrs. Hooper up any to come over here where we get
reports
every few minutes of what's being doneJames, you know Taddie
well. Did he have any enemies? He's been mischievous, you know.
I've
sometimes wondered if it didn't bother some people."

 "Enemies! That little fellowl Taddiel I'm surprised at you, Massa Lin-
cum. 'Deed I am, sahl"

 James gave a great blubber, seized Lincoln's hand, pressed his
bruised lips on it, and rushed away.

 At noon, Lincoln joined Mary at lunch in the sitting room. Her face
was swollen from prolonged weeping, but she was now outwardly calm.

?

TAD'S LITTLE AFFAIR 429

As she poured her husband's tea she said, "Abratm, what
puzzles me is why they took Isabella, too. If this is a political
kidnaping to bring you to terms, why bother with Alice
Hooper's child?"

  Lincoln shook his head and stared at his steaming bowl of
soup. "I've sent them an invitation to come over here."

  "That's a good idea. Eat your soup, Abratm," setting him an
example by forcing down a mouthful.

  He obeyed her and a moment later urged her to eat the
fish she was eyeing with somber distaste. They finished the
meal somehow, and then stood together in the window,
clinging to each other's fingers and looking at the storm.

  "I've got a part of the inaugural address done," said
Lincoln, trying to ease the tension. "Do you think you can
look it over?"

  "I'll try," biting her lips. "Ahl" whirling as James made an
announcement. "Mr. Hooper, what newsy"

  Hooper looked old and drawn. He dropped his sable-lined
cloak and took Mary's hand. "No news. No trace. It's the
strangest thing. Isabella was put to bed as usual at seven
o'clock. Her nurse had an evening out. She went philandering
and never got in till near dawn, when she went directly to bed
on the third floor. Alice and I had been at the opera and
afterward at supper with Mr. and Mrs. Eames. For once Alice
went directly to bed without looking in on Isabella. The poor
girl is bearing up, which it's not her nature to do. Did you
know that Mr. Sumner has gone to seek them on some
private line of his own?"

  Lincoln scowled. "I thought that Sumner's recent victory
had put him to bed."

  "But he did have one of his heart attacks!" protested
Hooper. "So it's all the more remarkable. He sent over just
before noon to borrow a closed carriage from me."

  He rubbed his chin and looked up at the President, who
leaned dejectedly on the mantel. No one spoke. The cannel
coal made tiny explosions. The sleet beat at the window.
Tears ran down Mary's cheeks as she huddled on an ottoman
but she did not wipe them away.

"Mrs. Hooper, Madam President," said James at the door.

  Mary rose to meet the tall figure in sealskin and the two
mothers clung to each other for a moment. Then James took
Alice's wraps and moved toward the door. As he did so,
Sumner's unmistakable tones were heard in the hall, above a
sudden confusion of voices.

"Pray don't crowd us. I must immediately find "

  James opened the door. Mary screamed. Standing in the
hall was Sumner, Tad clinging to one hand, Isabella to the
other.

  Lincoln was the first to realize that Sumner was still by the
door, unheeded during all the prolonged greetings. He put
Tad into his mother's lap and crossed over to place his hand
on Sumner's shoulder.

  "Tell us about it, Senator," he said, drawing the tall figure
toward the fire.

430 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "My share won't take long." Sumner wiped his eyes. "I
didn't hear of the matter until late this morning. When my
secretary finally told me I began turning all Taddie's recent
pranks over in my mind. Knowing the young gentleman
intimately as I do, I didn't believe Baker's theory was
essential. I recalled among many things the fact that Taddie
had made a great fuss because Isabella's mother forbade the
two children to skate on the pool in the garden. He said that
when he and Isabella were married they were going to Eve
at the Soldiers' Home where they could skate every day.
Isabella suggested that they get married right away. This was
followed by a great whispering and giggling."

 The two children now devouring the bread and milk James
had brought stared at the Senator in wonder. He smiled and
added:

 "Having reached this point in my deductions, the next step
was obvious. I borrowed my friend Sam's horses and set
forth for the Home."

 "And there we were in the hay loftl" exclaimed Isabella.
She was dirty and disheveled but still lovely.

"Why the hay lofty" asked her mother.

 "Our cottage was all locked up and we didn't cast go to
the house the old soldiers live in," replied Tad, his mouth
full. "We was just going to hitch up and come home, because
Isabella had boo-hooed he' eyes out."

"Hitch up what7" demanded Tad's mother.

 "Pete Kelley's boss," replied Tad. "He got his dad's old tin
pan boss fo' me, the one he peddles pans with in the spwing.
In winta it just stands in the ya'd and Pete has to feed him
so no one knew when he loaned the boss to me. Papa day,
I have to pay Pete a dolla' fo' that."

Lincoln slipped his hand into his pocket.

"Mr. Lincolul" shrieked Mary. "Don't you darer"

  "You're rightl" The President hastily withdrew his hand.
"Tell us how you managed to get away so quietly, Isabella."

  "I did just what Taddie told me to," replied Isabella with
a toss of her yellow curls. "I just got out of bed and dressed
myself the minute Nurse left me so's I wouldn't go to sleep,
you know. Then I went down to the coat closet under the
back stairs and rolled up in one of grandpa's buff falo robes
there and went to sleep and by and by Tad came and got
me."

  "Aw, it was easy," boasted Tad. "I just slipped in the back
hall and woke he' up and we sneaked out the back alley and
Pete was waiting to' us. We cova'd Isabella up in the bottom
of the sleigh and she went to sleep and I hustled that old
boss out to the Home, I tell you. We took about a ton of
cookies. They lasted till this noon."

  Quite beyond comment for the moment, the dumfounded
grown folk listened to this naive recital. But as Tad gulped
the last of his milk, his mother set him off her knee and
said, "You go to your room, Tad."

  Tad wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked appealingly
at his father. His father returned the look yearningly, but
Mary forestalled any appeals for mercy by saying, firmly:

"I hope you feel as I do, Mr. Lincoln, that Tad has got to be
taught

TAD'S LITTLE AFFAIR 431

that he can't cause such agony as he did to-day and not get
punished for it. He's too big a boy to do a thing like this and
go scot free."

"Exactly!" ejaculated Sumner.

"Amen to thatl" cried Hooper.

Tad gave a loud howl and rushed from the room. His mother
followed.

 Alice Hooper looked from her small daughter, who had
assumed an expression of injured innocence, to her
father-in-law. "You'd better go up to the Capitol, my dear
father," she said, "because I'm in complete accord with Mrs.
Lincoln on this and it's not going to be pleasant at our house
for the next hour."

 Small Isabella flung herself from her mother's lap and
rushed toward Sumner, screaming hysterically, "I'm going with
you, Senatorl"

 Congressman Hooper seized his sable-lined cape and he
and Lincoln fled while Sumner gathered Isabella in his great
arms. He stood, the little girl's face hidden in his neck,
looking at Alice pleadingly.

 Yf I've earned any thanks, Alice," he said, his deep voice
tender and a little amused, "pay them by letting off this small
sinner. After all, Tad was most to blame."

 "Isabella knew she was being naughty. The elaborate
secretiveness proves that. I can't risk such a thing happening
again."

 Isabella turned to show one deep blue eye. "I wouldn't not
run away again for a million, million dollars and kisses. It was
hoddible. I feel that way now. But if you whip me, you'll
make me want to run away all over again."

 Sumner and the child gazed at the beautiful woman,
anxiously. If Alice was amused, she did not show it. She had
suffered a thousand deaths that day. It was not easy to have
Sumner plead the naughty little girl's cause.

 After a moment, she said, "I recall with vividness the fact
that my last very earnest pleading with you for a favor, you
refused with implacable firmness."

"But my principles " exclaimed the Senator.

 "To train Isabella properly is my greatest principle,"
declared Alice. "But I'm going to set you an example of
magnanimity."

 "You mean you won't whip herl" cried Sumner. "Oh, thank
you, thank you, Alicel"

 "What a great child you arel" groaned Alice. Then she
began to laugh, though with a hint of tears in her eyes. "Yes,
I'll let her off, this time."

 The child suddenly patted Sumner's cheek and relaxing in
his arms began to weep in long hard sobs.

 "Give her to mel" demanded her mother, fiercely. And as
Sumner obeyed, she clasped the little golden head
passionately to her heart.

 Sumner eyed them with a soft smile and stooping, kissed
one of the lovely hands that supported Isabella. Then he
murmured that he'd call the carriage and take them both
home.

CHAPTER XXIV

      ANDREW JOIINSON                         ~

T INCOLN returned to his desk and fell to work on an accumulation of letters. It was routine
work and he could think steadily of other

I matters while performing it.

 It was hard to realizethat only hventy-four hours had passed since final news of his defeat
at Sumner's hands had reached him. Hard, because

he now found himself viewing his own downfall not without a certain;

philosophical amusement. He had been licked in a fair fight and if the
cause had not been so serious he could have shaken hands with Sumner,
have acknowledged that the best man won, and have set himself to forgetting the battle.

 But this he could not do. The battle must be fought again and won. Trumbull, poor
fellow, must have more help from the Democrats. Andrew Johnson must be beguiled into
putting his own great resources among the Democrats at Trumbull's disposal. Until
Congress convened again next December, the new Government in Louisiana must struggle
to function without Federal support except such as the President could give. Thanks to
Sumner. It was outrageously stupid. And in spite of the Senator's charming and
characteristic gesture of the afternoon, a renewed wave of anger against him flooded
Lincoln's heart.

 He signed papers, rapidly, mechanically, as John Hay and Nicolay thrust them under his
hand. He would have Andrew Johnson up for a talk as soon as the Vice President had
gotten his bearings in Washington. As long as he was in his present mood, he'd better not
see Sumner, though he supposed he ought to thank the Senator more adequately for what
he had done for Tad.

 As the two secretaries moved out with overflowing mail baskets, Mary entered in evening
dress.

"Supper's been waiting a half hour, Mr. Lincoln," she said.

 "My dear," he pleaded, "I've only got this supper hour in which to finish a dozen
important matters. Won't you let me have it on a tray up here?" He rose and looked down
at her contritely. It had been a dreadful day for her. She deserved and needed the sort of
quiet hour they might have together if

 She smiled up at him. "Don't make me out such a tyrant, Abra'm," she protested. "Let
me have a tray in here with you. I won't interrupt."

 "Finer" settling back at his desk again. "Some day I'll build you a castle on the edge of
the Golden Gate, after you've finished buzzing around Europe and California has woven
its spell over us."

Mary rang the bell and gave the requisite orders, then seated herself

ANDREW JOHNSON 433

before the fire and did not speak until supper was spread on
a little table beside her. When the President had fallen to
with a good appetite, she asked if he had seen Sumner again
in order to thank him.

"I suppose you'll have to forgive him now," she added.

 "I'm angrier at his stupidity than I ever was at anything
before in my life, if that answers you," he said. "How's our
poor little Romeo7"

 "Sound asleep," she replied, complacently. "Sumner certainly
loves him."

 "So he does and I'm obliged for what he did," agreed
Lincoln, "but"  determined to nip Mary's campaign in the
bud "but he's done the Union a fearful disservice in
defeating my resolution."

 "Everybody's talking about the break that's inevitable
between you and Mr. Sumner. You're immensely
strengthening the Democrats by this party split."

"Andy Johnson'11 take up that slack," the President assured
her.

 "I don't suppose you can feel friendly toward Mr. Sumner,"
agreed Mary. "But I think you're making a mistake in not
making some sort of a move that will stop the gloating. Why
not ask him to go to the Inaugural ball with us7 We'll only be
there a half hour but all the world will see and know he's our
guest."

 Lincoln buttered a roll, thinking this over. It was hard
common sense, of course. But it was curious how hard it was
to swallow his anger. Not but what somewhere inside him was
an unquenchable flame of affection for Sumner!

 "Well," he admitted, grudgingly, "I suppose you're right
about it. I'll get the note off after supper. I hope," grimly,
"that he'll accept it in the spirit in which it's written!"

 "Ohl he's not cross at your" laughed Mary. "He thoroughly
beat youl Do it as soon as you finish your pudding, my dear.
I'm afraid you'll weaken if I leave before it's done.... Am I
acting the good partner, Abra'm?"

He smiled at her tenderly. "You're my mainstay, as usual."

 The next morning, inaugural day, dawned with a heavy
downpour of rain that, as the hours wore on toward noon,
showed no signs of letting up. Lincoln dressed himself on
rising in the same frock suit that he had worn at his first
inauguration. It was well made, but he had lost weight and it
hung a little loosely on him. Still, Mary looked him over
carefully and said that he'd pass muster, so he promptly
forgot his appearance.

 His office was packed with a portion of the office seekers
who were blanketing Washington again like a pest of locusts,
but at eleven John Hay moved them all out and the start was
made for the Capitol. The mud was so heavy that going
would be tedious. Mary had gone still earlier, to sit in the
diplomatic gallery of the Senate where Johnson would first be
inaugurated. Some one told him that the Vice President was
only scarcely recovered from a fearful attack of typhoid. Poor
fellowl . . . He must get in touch with him immediately and
outline that new battle.

434 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

Johnson's glorious record in Tennessee proved him Sumner's
equal if not his superior in fighting prowess.

 Lincoln entered the Senate Chamber at the head of his
Cabinet. The dim mahogany dignity of the room had been
turned to a mass of brilliant colorbymany flags, by the gay
spring clothes of the women who crowded the galleries, by
the splendors of the diplomatic corps in court dress and by
the uniforms of naval and army officers with their gold lace
and epaulettes and wonderful sashes. The chatter of women
filled the great room despite the embarrassed pounding of
the gavel by Senator Foote in the chair.

 What would Johnson think of it, the poor tailor from
Tennessee? The shrill chorus in the gallery rose high, then
fell again. The justices of the Supreme Court were entering
in their long black silk robes. Chase looked extraordinarily
handsome. Then the members of the House. Buzz, buzzl the
chatter rose again, then a sudden silence. It was twelve
o'clock and Andrew Johnson on Hannibal Hamlin's arm was
making his way to the dais.

 Lincoln scrutinized his new partner closely; a tall man with
fine strong shoulders, black hair, swarthy skin, smooth
shaven; remarkable eyes, not large but piercingly keen and
set under a splendid brow. It was evident that he had been
ill, for he was furrowed and worn far beyond what even the
war strain could have done to him. He was deeply
flushed; embarrassed and excited probably.

 Johnson began his speech. It was broken and incoherent.
"I am a plebeian and glory in it." He paused, swayed a
moment, went on. "Tennessee never went out of the Union.
I am going to talk two and a half minutes on that point and
want you to hear me. Tennessee always was loyal. We derive
all our powers from the people. I want you to hear me two
and a half minutes on that."

 Lincoln stirred uneasily. Johnson was always excitable and
in the heat of speech-making was said sometimes to be
carried away by his feelings. But thisl The man's voice was
thick, his eyes suffused. Hamlin leaned forward and nudged
Johnson but the rambling words poured out in everincreasing
volume. Lincoln half turned in his seat. Charles Sumner cov-
ered his face with his hands and bowed his head on his desk.
Seward as usual looked bland but Stanton might have been
gazing at a specter. Welles, above his whiskers, was blushing.
Chase looked like outraged marble. His confrere, Judge
Nelson, stared at Johnson with his jaw apparently falling
from his face until Chase tapped him on the shoulder, when
he closed his lips with a snap.

 Drinkl Good God! Drinkl This was the man he'd insisted
on for a running mate, the man who was to defeat Sumnerl

 Hamlin rose and deliberately interrupted Johnson,
requesting him in a half whisper to take the oath of office
before he became too ill. Johnson gasped, blinked, then in a
low voice repeated the fine words and kissed the Bible, then
stumbled to his seat.

ANDREW JOHNSON 435

 Lincoln moved from the Chamber in a daze. What
treachery had fate played on him now7No,not fate, drink

 Outside, in the east face of the Capitol where the platform
stood, the rain had ceased. Below the platform faces, faces,
faces, that familiar pinktinted sea which had grown so
familiar to him in the past ten years. The pink tint reached
back and back among the trees. The roar that rose as Lincoln
appeared continued until the Sergeant-at-Arms had waved his
high black hat and in pantomime bade it be still, and it was
still.

 Lincoln put on his spectacles, took his little speech from his
breast pocket and stepped up to the table.

 "Fellow countrymen: . . . On the occasion corresponding to
this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an
impending civil war. All dreaded it. All sought to avert it....
Both parties deprecated war; but one of them would make
war rather than let the Nation survive and the other would
accept war rather than let it perish. And the war came.

 "One-eighth of the whole population were colored slaves,
not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the
Southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and
powerful interest. All knew that this interest was somehow
the cause of the war; to strengthen, perpetuate and extend
this interest was the object for which the insurgents would
rend the Union even by war; while the government claimed
no right to do more than to restrict the territorial
enlargement of it.

 "Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the
duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated
that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even
before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an
easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding.
Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and
each invokes his aid against the other. It may seem strange
that any man should have to ask a just God's assistance in
wringing his bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but
let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both
could not be answered that of neither has been answered
fully.

 "The Almighty has his own purposes. Woe unto the world
because of offensesl For it must needs be that offences come;
but woe to any men by whom the offence cometh. If we shall
suppose that American slavery is one of those offences which,
in the providence of God, must needs come, but which,
having continued through his appointed time, he now wills to
remove, and that he gives to both North and South this
terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense
came, shall we discern therein any departure from those
divine attributes which the believers in a living God always
ascribe to him? Fondly do we hope-fervently do we
pray that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away.
Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by
the bondman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil
shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the
lash shall be paid by another drawn with

436 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it
must be said, 'The judgments of the Lord are true and
righteous altogether.'

  "With malice toward none: with charity for all: with
firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us
strive to finish the work we are in: to bind up the nation's
wounds: to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and
for his widow, and his orphan to do all which may achieve
a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all
nations."

  He stood only half listening to the applause. Sumnerl
Johnsonl Would God they could hear his words as he had
meant theml

  He turned toward Chief Justice Chase and the applause
was stilled. The clerk of the Supreme Court, on whose
cheeks were undried tears, brought forward the Bible.
Lincoln laid a steady hand gently on an open page. The sun
gushed forth and for a moment blinded him. Then Chase,
yes, Chase (humor in this to be savored later), Chase
administered the oath of office which he answered clearly,
"So help me God," and kissed the Book.

  He asked for Johnson immediately after the ceremony but
was told that Preston King had taken him home for a visit.

  "He acted as if deranged," said "Father" Welles, whom he
had questioned.

  "Oh, nol" protested Seward. "He's sick, and emotion on
revisiting the Senate overcame him. I can appreciate
Johnson's feelings, myself."

"God Almightyl" grunted Stanton.

  The afternoon and evening, a blur of people; an endlessly
twisting, turning kaleidoscope of faces faces, some of them
quivering as his speech was mentioned. Mary said that she
had seen many people weeping during the last half of the
address. They did not meet alone until after two o'clock that
night, when they smiled wearily at each other before the fire
in the President's bedroom. Mary had with her the
inauguration Bible in which Chase had marked the verses
that the President had kissed. Lincoln read them.

  "None shall be weary nor stumble among them: none shall
slumber nor sleep: neither shall the girdle of their loins be
loosened nor the latchet of their shoes be broken."

                CHAPTER XXV
           THE QUALITY OF MERCY

T INCOLN did not sleep that night, he was too weary. He went
to his I office after an hour or so and brought back to his
bed an envelope of ~ Petroleum Nasby clippings. The man's
rough, satirical remarks on politics were the essence of
wisdom. Still he couldn't sleep. In the morning exhaustion
made him giddy and he was glad to have Mary forbid his
rising.

 She was not too strict for his peace of mind, however. She
permitted the Cabinet to meet in his bedroom. It was
pleasant except for the discussion about Johnson, who was
reported ill in bed. Sumner had been to Welles and kicked
up a great row. Said Johnson must be forced to resign.
Hamlin had told Stanton that Johnson was ill in the Vice
President's room before the ceremonies.

 "Asked Hamlin for a drink of whiskey," said Stanton.
"Hamlin told him that one of his first acts as Vice President
had been to have drink forbidden in the Senate restaurant
and that Sumner had gotten the buffets moved out of the
committee rooms. So Johnson sent across the street to a
saloon and got a quart of whiskey, of which he drank three
tumblers."

 "Even at that," said Welles, stroking his beard wisely, "he
may not be an habitual drunkard. Did any one ever hear that
he was?"

 It was agreed that no one had. Lincoln said that he'd had
General Sickles investigate Johnson's personal career before
his nomination and that it had seemed to be without
blemish.

 Seward closed the discussion by saying in his usual
cheerful, goodhumored way, "It will passl He's a valuable
man. Let's forgive and forget."

Lincoln nodded and changed the subject.

 The ball was postponed till the night of the sixth. Lincoln
felt in fair trim by that time, though a bit unsteady as to leg
muscles. After he had gotten himself into his evening
clothes, Mary wouldn't let him return to his office; so he lay
on the sofa with Tad beside him, reading aloud to his father.

    "When all the world is young, lad,

And all the grass is green,
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen,
Then hey for boot and saddle "

 Taddie' in his flannel nightgown, ready to go to bed when
his parents should leave, little round face unblemished by
life Lincoln watched him and through half-closed lids
listened to the verses

438 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 Mary came in. She was lovely; lovelier, he thought, even
than on the night of the first inaugural ball. The lines that
the four years had etched in her fine skin softened her
firmness with a look of sadness. All true loveliness, he told
himself, was sad. She wore velvet, of a lavender so delicate
that at some angles it was only shadowed white. Her
chestnut braids were twined round her head with pansies.
Her eyes looked larger and bluer than ever.

She smiled at the two on the sofa. "How do I look, boys7"

 Taddieclapped his hands. "You look like Queen Titania. I
love you to deathl"

 "So do II" with a low laugh from Lincoln. "How anything
as pretty as you could have chosen me-eta, Tad7"

"You're kind of beautiful," declared Tad, stoutly.

The father and mother exchanged an amused glance.

 Sumner came in now, carrying a great bunch of orchids for
Mary and a new book for Tad. Lincoln had not spoken to
him since what he called the Senate murder, excepting on
the afternoon when he had rescued the children. Sumner, he
told himself, as he rose from the sofa, was a long way from
returning to his bed and board. He bowed and shook hands
coolly with the Senator, then turned to his wife.

 "If you're ready, Mrs. Lincoln, we'll proceed at once. I've
an hour's work in the office after we're finished with this
affair."

 Mary gave him an appealing look. She didn't want him to
don his rarely used cloak of dignity with Sumner. But he
chose not to see the message in her glance. Mary sighed and
called Tad to help her with her wraps. For a moment, the
two men stood rigid by the fire. Then Sumner said in a low
voice:

 "I dread to mention Vice President Johnson's dreadful
lapse, but I must. Mr. Lincoln, won't you force him to
resigns He's a public calamity."

 Lincoln raised his eyebrows. "You seem to be 'resigning'
for every one but yourself, Senatorl That's a matter you'd
better discuss with Andy Johnson, not me."

"I beg your pardon." Sumner spoke stiffly, his face flushing.

 Mary came in and with a glance from the President to the
Senator, hurriedly announced that the carriage was waiting.

 It was a dreadful party. The crush was so tremendous that
neither detectives nor police could control it. So many
people rushed into the supper room, soon after the
Presidential party arrived, that the tables were wrecked and
the food trampled on the floor. The confusion was so great
that after a short half hour Lincoln insisted on going home.
Sumner spent that half hour standing at a little distance
from the President, a picture of patient suffering. Acted as
if he were enduring a bad smell, thought Lincoln, glancing
at him occasionally over the heads of the milling crowd. It
was good to get back to the quiet of the White House.

 The memory of the evening and of Sumner's attitude was
still in Lincoln's mind when he woke the next morning. It
had left a bad taste in his

THE QUALITY OF MERCY 439

mouth. He told himself that the unwonted role of being mad
at some one he loved was hard on his digestion.

 For over a week now, he saw nothing of Sumner, and
Johnson also was invisible, taking a rest out at Silver Springs
with the Blairs. Lincoln ground the grist of office seekers,
keeping the best of his pondering for his relation to Sumner
and for the war. The roads were drying up in Virginia now
and soon Grant's army must move from its winter quiet. Stan-
ton and Lincoln were beginning to sweat lest Lee should slip
away into the mountains before Sherman, coming like
inexorable fate from the South, Sheridan coming down the
Shenandoah, and Schofield coming from the West had closed
every exit and forced Lee to fight Grant.

 About the middle of March, Grant invited the President
and Mrs. Lincoln to Army Headquarters at City Point,
Virginia. - "I would like very much to see you and I think the
rest would do you good."

 Mary was delighted at the thought of seeing Bob. The boy
was, as usual, careless about writing. "But," she added, "I do
think you ought to make it up with Charles Sumner before
you go away," reaching up to straighten his tie as they started
down to breakfast.

"But how can I, my dear wife?" he asked impatiently.

 She looked at him uneasily. "This is so unlike youl I've
never known you to hold a grudge before."

"This isn't a grudger Sumner's hurt the Union. It's not mine
to forgive."

"Yet you offer amnesty to Rebelst" she cried.

 "After they've taken the oath of allegiance," was his retort.
"Mary, there's no use in my going after Sumner until I know
what I want to do. Just as soon as Johnson gets well I shall
have him get to work among the Democrats and see if
Sumner can't be snowed under. He'll never compromise, any
more than I will."

 "It's no longer a question of compromise with him, Abra'm,"
said Mary. "He thinks he's finished the job. He told Alice
Hooper that after peace is declared the States themselves will
prevent you from carrying out your theories."

 "Ahl" exclaimed Lincoln thoughtfully as he followed her into
the dining room. "That's newel . . . Has Mrs. Hooper given up
hope of making him Secretary of State7"

 "She said she couldn't do much as long as you didn't seem
to support the idea," replied Mary. "My dear, I could go away
with a much freer mind if you'd invite Sumner up for a
political conference before we go."

 "Didn't the wonderful one-scene act at the Inaugural ball
satisfy your greed?" asked Lincoln.

 "Oh, you know what I meant" She poured cream over Tad's
oatmeal with an impatient jerk. "Let me ask him to go to the
Italian Opera with us as soon as we return from City Point.
I'll send the invitation before we go and let it leak out. I can't
bear to see the Democratic newspapers saying the horrible
things they do."

"Are they including you again?" asked Lincoln, quickly.

44o WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 She nodded. "But that isn't my reason, Abra'm. I'm used
to that. It's the political side."

 "I'm not used to it for your" His voice was grim. "You
send your invitation. He's been trying to see me on some
sort of business for a week and I've avoided him. I'll arrange
to see him soon and conspicuously. But I warn you now
there's going to be no kissing and holding of hands between
Sumner and me."

 Mary heaved a sigh of relief and devoted the rest of the
meal to Tad's outrageous table manners.

 Lincoln had no opportunity that day to kind the
conspicuous moment for seeing Senator Sumner. But on the
next, chance arranged the matter with signal success. Early
in the afternoon, Lincoln entered the carriage with Mary for
a last round of the hospitals before leaving for City Point.
Two reporters dogged Lincoln down the steps with questions
about Grant and just as the coachman lifted the reins,
Sumner rushed up and laid a detaining hand on the carriage
door.

 "Mr. President, I must see you on the matter of that naval
court decision. I can get no satisfaction out of Mr. Welles."
He turned to the reporters. "May I ask you two gentlemen
to step out of earshot? I have a matter of great urgency and
privacy to talk over with the President."

 The two reporters fell back but watched the group with
rapacious interest.

 "You mean you want me to set aside the sentence of those
two Boston acquaintances of yours who've been convicted of
defrauding the Government7" asked Lincoln, casually. "Well,
drop in on me at lunch, tomorrow."

 Sumner, flushed and impatient, shook his head. "In my
opinion, Mr. President, you ought not to sleep on the case.
If Abraham Lincoln had suffered unjust imprisonment as a
criminal, degradation before his neighbors, an immense bill
of expense, trial by court-martial and an unjust
condemnation, he would cry out against any postponement
of justice for a single day."

 Lincoln sighed. "It's evident that in order not to be a
miracle of meanness in your eyes, Mr. Sumner, I must take
a great deal of trouble. Very well. If you'll come around at
eleven to-night, I'll see you. I'd like you to write out your
legal opinion on the case before then to take as little time
as possible."

 Sumner, with raised eyebrows, bowed, and the carriage
moved on. Lincoln turned to Mary, winked at her solemnly
and lapsed into his perpetual study of Sumner's character.

 There was a frightful thunderstorm that night, but in the
midst of it Sumner kept his appointment with the President.
It was significant of the intense anxiety and preoccupation
of the two men that neither mentioned the dreadful turmoil
that beat at the windows. Sumner began at once to read a
superbly prepared brief. It was half an hour after midnight
when he finished.

THE QUALITY OF MERCY 441

 "It looks to me as if you were right," was Lincoln's
comment. "Leave the brief with me, Mr. Sumner. I'll write my
conclusion before I sleep and you can have it as soon as I
open shop in the morning."

"And when will you open shop7" asked the Senator.

"At nine o'clock."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Sumner rose and went out into
the storm.

 At three o'clock, Lincoln finished his reply. Promptly at
nine o'clock Sumner appeared. He stood beside the
President's desk and read what Lincoln had written, then with
a softened face and a voice that broke with gratitude he
exclaimed:

 "Thank you! Thank youl A wonderful resume indeedl May
I send a telegram from your office here, saying the men are
to be discharged?"

 "Do so and I'll have Hay attend to it," replied Lincoln,
reaching into his desk as he spoke for the envelope of
Petroleum Nasby clippings. He wanted Sumner to go without
any attempts at personalities. When he was ready to move on
the Senator, he'd do so with one big jump. Until then

 "Let me read you something funny, Mr. Sumner," and he
began to read aloud with great gusto. He had only started the
second clipping when Sumner gave vent to an enormous sigh
and departed. Lincoln grinned at John Hay and turned to the
war dispatches. Lee had not yet made a move.

 The visit to Grant was begun very quietly. The country, in
its longdrawn-out agony over the siege of Richmond, must not
be roused to undue optimism by news of the President's
departure for the front. The party was small: Mary, Tad, the
President, Crook, the bodyguard Stanton had bullied Lincoln
into enduring. Also on the morning of the departure, March
23rd, there arrived at the White House a tall, fair-haired,
handsome young officer, Captain Penrose, detailed by Grant
to act as aide to the President.

 The party of five drove to the wharf at one o'clock in a
closed carriage. But alas for secrecy! A crowd had collected
and there were anxious shouts as Lincoln walked up the
gangplank of the River Queen. "Where are you going, Mr.
President7 . . . Is it peace this timer . . . Has Lee skinned
out7"

 Lincoln could only smile and wave his hand. He went at
once to his little stateroom and did not emerge until they
were well out into the river with the tugboat, Bat, snorting
along behind and making a tremendous impression on Tad.
Then, in a deerstalker cap, his old grey lounge suit and a blue
cape, he joined Mary on deck. They watched the receding city
till they could see it no more.

 Toward night a cold wind rose, with rain, and they went
into the little salon where the boat's captain hovered over
them, anxious about their comfort. He'd had a partition torn
out, he told them, and a berth of adequate length built for the
President.

 "I noticed it first thing, Captain." Lincoln stretched his long
legs out with a sigh of comfort on the padded lockers that ran
the length of the

44Z WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

cabin. "You were mighty clever to remember my extra inches
so kindly." "I'm going to enjoy your housekeeping instead of
my own, I know, Captain," added Mary, dropping into a
rocker near the President. "Taddie's gone to the engine
room. Will you tell the engineer and the sailors to send him
to me if he's a nuisances"

 "Oh, any one can get along with young Tadl" said the
Captain. "Will you give the Steward your order for supper,
Madam President?"

 "Indeed I won't," exclaimed Mary with a laugh. "Didn't I
tell you that's just what I want to avoids We'll take what
you're going to take, Captain, and you're to eat with us."

 "Right!" agreed Lincoln. "And, Captain, I want you to be
prepared to repeat to Mrs. Lincoln and my two guardian
angels here some of those adventures with blockade runners
you told me about last February."

 The Captain looked pleased. "I don't need to repeat, Mr.
Lincoln. I've had a whole new set of experiences since then."

 "Goodl I'm determined not to think of the war to-night.
So hurry up the supper, Captain, and get my mind out of
Washington and onto the sea in ships. I've all an inlander's
love of sea tales."

 The Captain of the River Queen was a really fine story
teller. They kept him talking until midnight. Then Lincoln
slept without dreams, ate a good breakfast, and slept again
until noon. He was preparing himself for the final
stupendous act of the drama. He would know in the next
few days whether he was to witness the death struggle of the
Rebellion or one of those tremendous coups of Lee's that
would prolong the agony for another year.

CHAPTER XXVI

                 RICHMOND

  HE James and the Appomattox come together at City
Point, The I little town was perched high on a bluff that
overlooked the harbor

 ~ thus formed. All the afternoon of the second day, the
River Queen made its way up the beautiful James, which was
crowded by the shipping that ministered to the Army of the
Potomac. It was after dark when the boat made fast to its
wharf. All that could be seen of the town were lights
straggling upward, with a long row of them bordering the sky
line.

 Lincoln, Iying in a deck chair which he had occupied most
of the afternoon, saw Captain Penrose leap to the pier,
heard a sentry challenge him and a low-voiced colloquy
follow. A moment later, Penrose came up to him and
reported that General Grant wished to come aboard.

 "Goodl" Lincoln rose, his muscles stiffening to the load,
and went into the salon where he stood by the red-covered
center table waiting. Little Grant came in followed by a
group of officers, Bob among them. The cabin was filled
with the glitter of accouterments and the smell of leather
and horses and tobacco. First a confusion of greetings; then
Grant began his report. The Lieutenant-General seemed to
Lincoln to be in better trim than he'd ever seen him before.
He was very thin, but hard and brown and quick. The
discipline of the many adversities of the past year had been
good for him. He was optimistic and had every thread of the
gigantic pending operations gathered into a steady hand. He
was not underestimating the enemy, neither was he
overestimating him. He said that Sheridan was coming in for
a conference the next day and so was Sherman on a flying
visit from Goldsboro, North Carolina. And he said casually
that there'd been no fighting worthy of mention, lately.

 But Bob told his father in their one moment alone that
what looked to his green eyes like battles were going on all
the time and he'd had the satisfaction of carrying messages
under fire, several times. So he'd not have to go into the
ranks, after all.

 Grant ended the interview by giving Mary an invitation
from Mrs. Grant, now at City Point, to "visit about in the
handsome new ambulance that was to be devoted to the
ladies." Grant's horse, Cincinnati, was again at the
President's service. Young Beckwith, his own telegraph
operator, was to report from now on to Lincoln. Beckwith's
tent as well as Grant's office tent were now Lincoln's. Grant
was a gentleman. He did these things with a quiet savoir-faire
that Mary said made her disbelieve half the stuff she'd heard
about him.

 Lincoln went up to Beckwith's tent the next morning.
From its opening he could see the long curved lines of the
Rebel entrenchments which

444 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

stretched between Petersburg across the river and
Richmond, thirty miles north. After an exchange of
telegrams with Stanton, he visited General Meade's
headquarters. Here for two hours, from a little hilltop, he
watched what Meade called a light skirmish shells bursting,
thin lines retreating and melting away.

 The war council was held on the River Queen that evening.
Sheridan and Sherman both were there. Lincoln was deeply
stirred at seeing these two again. He thought they looked
more gaunt and weatherworn than any of the other generals.
They were more nervous, like racers held in unwilling check.
He liked Grant's manner with them. To these men, he was
no autocrat but a brother-in-arms.

 Rain and wind were having their way with the RiYer
Queen. The light on the war maps was uneasy. The grizzled
heads bent over the table on which the maps were spread
were now in shadow, now in full yellow glow. Lincoln walked
the floor a good deal, though with difficulty, as his imag-
ination took hold of the details the soldiers discussed so
dispassionately.

 Once he interrupted to say, "I hope this will all be
accomplished with as little bloodshed as possible."

The stern faces were lifted to his, somewhat confused and
blinking.

 Grant answered after a moment. "You tell me the
country's in a mood where anything less than entire success
will be interpreted as disastrous defeat. That kind of success
will cost a good deal of blood, I'm afraid, Mr. Lincoln."
Then laying a broad finger on the outworks of Petersburg,
he continued the sentence the President had interrupted.

 All in all, he felt strengthened by the conference. He knew
everything now. Stanton had had no chance to censor this.
His last remark to Grant that night was:

 "Keep me informed. Don't let me be in suspense and I'll
come through as well as the rest of you."

"That's why you have Beckwith," replied Grant crisply.

 Sherman was returning to Goldsboro that night. He went
out before the rest, saying with his face shining, "This will
end itl"

 End it and the heartache and the thousand shocksl But
Hamlet did not express the war mood. It took Macbeth for
that. Lincoln read himself to sleep with Macbeth that night.

 Nature herself provided a terrible backdrop for the first
movement of Grant's advance. A thunderstorm of
unprecedented severity swept down the James on the night
of March Pith and the Lieutenant-General took advantage
of its confusion and fury to start the great advance.
Lightning fought with bursting shells. Thunder contended
with the roar of artillery. The River Queen strained and
groaned at her moorings. Tad refused to go to bed but cried
himself to sleep on the sofa in the salon. Mary, wrapped in
a shawl, her face blanched, sat beside him all night. Bob was
out there with Grantl Lincoln knew that the strain was too
much for her and wanted her to go to bed, but she couldn't.

Wrapped in his cape, he paced the deck all night, going
inside only

RICHMOND 445

occasionally to look after Mary. The tumult without suited his
mood. Nothing could so nearly express the four years'
accumulation of agony and of unalterable purpose as this
night. He shook with exaltation, muttered broken prayers and
expletives. - "Blow windl and crack your cheeks!" "Oh, ye
lightnings and clouds, bless ye the Lordl" "And thou, all
shaking thunder, strike flat the thick rotundity o' the
world." "Lay on, MacDuff I . . ."

 But as the hours wore on, the clamor became torture.
Death, out therel Death and suffering. For a long time he
wept silently and as a dawn of battleshot grey lifted the river
and the hills from fitful eclipse to steady, dull visibility, he
pulled off his cap and lifting his face to the shell-ravaged
heavens, pleaded that this be the final eruption of blood and
fire.

 That day and the next, as the rains forced the army to
construct corduroy roads as it moved, the firing slowed down.
Lincoln began to urge Mary to go back to Washington, taking
Tad. She would not hear of this. She proposed to remain in
order to prevent the President from going to the front and to
be near Bob if he were wounded. Lincoln did not argue the
matter at any length. He was too deeply immersed in
following Grant's movements as Beckwith reported them.
However, after a third sleepless night, Mary was so exhausted
in mind and body that her own good sense told her to give in
to her husband's advice. But with a pathetic heroism she
insisted that Tad stay and never leave his father for an
instant.

 "But it's no place for Tad," protested Lincoln, uneasily.
"He'll see sights and sounds that'll give him nightmares for
the next year. This is no place for a child."

 "No, it isn't," agreed Mary. "And war's no work for human
beings. But since we're all in it, Tad must pay with the rest of
us. I admit I'm no good here but I think if Tad's with you,
you won't run as many risks as if he weren't."

With a shake of the head and a sigh, Lincoln gave in.

 Mary left on April first and on that day he moved up to a
tent next to Beckwith's on the bluff. Tad had a cot beside his
father's, but Lincoln was grateful to note that the child did
not take his mother's orders too literally. He spent the
afternoon with the Grant children, while Lincoln on Cin-
cinnati rode slowly over the deserted battle lines, viewing the
still unburied dead, blue and gray. After all, Grant did not
keep him fully in touch now with his movements. Perhaps it
was impossible. Yet suspense here was less difficult to bear
than in Washington.

 The bombarding of Petersburg continued without cessation.
He grew so habituated to the uproar that when it suddenly
ceased on the night of the second he woke from a light sleep
and went into Beckwith's tent. The young operator, wrapped
in an army blanket, sat beside his candle and chattering
instrument. Lincoln in trousers and cape stood over him wait-
ing. It seemed an hour before Beckwith looked up to say in
an uneven voice:

"Petersburg has fallen, Mr. Presidentl"

446 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "Almighty God, I thank theel"murmured Lincoln and
returned to his cot. The ring of fire around Richmond was
complete.

 He really fell asleep now and did not rouse till Crook
came in long after sunup to tell him that Captain Penrose
was waiting to take him to visit Grant in Petersburg.

 He told himself as he rode the fifteen miles to Petersburg
that it ought to be utterly impossible for him to realize that
this nightmare city actually had given up the ghost. So long
had it held out against all attacks, so often had it proved the
Waterloo of officers on whom he had built great hopes, that
this success ought to seem like a dream. But not so. His
brain never had been clearer or his nerves steadier, his
imagination quicker. He was not weary this for the first
time in many, many months.

 Petersburg was utterly silent and utterly deserted. Not a
living creature in street or window, not even birds in the
ragged trees or flies on dead things in the gutters. The
National Army had gone on in pursuit of the retreating
Rebels. Grant with a few members of his staff awaited the
President on the piazza of an empty house. He said that as
he had come into the town that morning the Appomattox
bottom at the north end of the city had been packed with
the Confederate army.

 "But I hadn't the heart to turn the artillery upon such a
mass of defeated and fleeing men. I hope to capture them,
shortly."

 "That's rightl That's the spirit!" ejaculated Lincoln. He
stood with one amm around Bob's neck. "I thought you'd
forgotten me, General."

 "Nol You couldn't have thought thatl" Grant smiled. "But
you've had so many disappointments and I couldn't be sure
this was coming so quickly."

 He spoke then of his desire that the Army of the Potomac
should have the reward of its four years' struggles and
actually take Richmond, rather than the Westem armies. He
was quiet and businesslike, utterly unlike a conquering hero.
He was impatient to be off after his army, now several miles
in advance, and Lincoln let him go. With Crook and Penrose
he rode slowly back the fifteen miles, across the trenches
that had protected the city. They were full of dead. Poor
fellows!

 He had reached City Point and was slowly pushing his
horse up the long road to the bluff-top when a messenger
came at a gallop to meet him. He thrust a telegram into
Lincoln's hand. The President halted his panting horse and
tore open the message. It was from Grant.

Richmond had fallen.

 He wiped his spectacles, put them in his pocket, and
looked up and down the river.

Peacel

 He had a physical sense that a load was being lifted from
his shoulders. A dogwood tree in early bloom by the
roadside suddenly impinged on his consciousness. Dogwood
no longer need break his heart. He'd stand no more
knee-deep in its blooms plucked from soldiers' kepis

RICHMOND 447

 Crook touched his arm. "There's Vice President Johnson
riding up ahead of us, sir."

 A door in Lincoln's mind opened and reconstruction
crowded in. He felt irritated. Could he not be allowed to
saver moment to the full? "Johnson7" he asked. "What's he
doing here?"

 "He came down yesterday, Mr. Lincoln. There are a number
of parties here from Washington. I've heard that
Representative Hooper is in a tug below with the Secretary
of the Treasury."

 "I don't want to see them, not Mr. Johnson or any of the
rest, Crook. I came down here for a rest and a change. And
Grant's seen that I've had it, God bless himI"

 He pushed on up the hill, to the telegraph tent. There was
a telegram from Stanton, dear old granny. "Ought you to
expose yourself to the consequences of any disaster to
yourself in the presence of a treacherous and dangerous
enemy like the Rebel army?"

 He laughed aloud as he wrote his reply. "Thanks for your
caution, but I have already been to Petersburg, stayed with
Grant an hour and a half, and have returned here. It is
certain now that Richmond is in our hands and I think I will
go there to-morrow. I will take care of myself."

 Ship bells were ringing now. The river was pandemonium
with the shrill of whistles and shouts of soldiers and sailors.
Tad came tearing up shooting a pistol into the air.

"Wichmond's fallen, fallen, fallen!" he chanted.

 His father hastened out of the tent. Tad with a pistol always
made him uneasy.

"How much money do you want for that cannon, Taddie?" he
asked.

 "You went off to Pete'sburg without met" cried Tad
reproachfully, firing another shot.

"Give me the pistol, Tad," insisted Lincoln.

 "Will you take me with you if you visit Wichmond?"
bargained Tad, dancing about with the smoking weapon
dangling from his hand.

"Yest Yest Anythingl" exclaimed his father.

"And a dolla'," added Tad.

 His father gave him the money and told Crook to lose the
pistol. Then he seized Tad's dirty hand firmly in his own and
took him down to the River Queen for supper. He decided to
send Tad back to Washington with Hooper, if the
Representative was returning soon.

 But the next morning, before he could get in touch with
Hooper, the River Queen had joined Admiral Porter's fleet
and the visit to Richmond was in process. The fleet steamed
up the river to Drury's Blufl. Here a wreck had blocked the
narrow channel. Lincoln and Tad were transshipped to the
Captain's gig, manned by twelve sailors. They were very close
now to the death that made the James horrible, bodies of
men and horses Tad clung to his father's fingers but made
no comment.

 The trip was almost too much to bear. The shore, for a
quarter of a mile before they reached their landing place
beside Libby Prison, was

448 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

packed with negroes. They were not noisy. But a continuous,
rich murmur rose from the dusky lines, broken occasionally
by soft cries:

 "Masse Lincum, the sabior of the landl Mass'
Lincum Lincum  Lincum "

 Too much for a man's heart, this. He felt half
suffocated. The wharf was packed with soldiers and
marines, with Admiral Farragut hovering about, smiling
tensely. Six marines armed with carbines, then the President
with Admiral Porter and Captain Penrose on his right and
Crook clinging to Tad's other hand on his left. Behind, six
more marines. Absurd precaution, when any window might
hold a gun. He felt like an intruder  an unwelcome, hated
alien in a foreign country. He was sorry he had come.

 They began a march up the middle of a street. It was
thick-bordered with spectators, that pinkish border so
familiar. People clung to the telegraph poles like ants to
grass stalks. The sun was hot and almost obscured by
smoke. The Richmondites had tried to burn their own city.
There was an appalling, a sickening silence, an utter
stillness, through which the tramp, tramp of their own feet
sounded loudly. It was a march through borderlines of hate.
He wished he hadn't come. This view of the wreck of Jeff
Davis' dream was a hurting thing. Suddenly he felt
unutterably weary.

CHAPTER XXVII

            GOD S IN HIS nEAVEN

HERE was a group of people standing on the wharf when
the River Queen made her moorings at City Point the next
day. Tad recog- nized its members with a shout that roused
the waterside:

"Motha'l Senata' Sumna'l Goodyl GoodyI"

 A moment later, Lincoln was greeting Mary's party:
Sumner, the Harlans, Marquis de Chambrun. He was so
tired! Why had Mary done this? She told him why under her
breath. Stanton had complained to her that the President
was jeopardising his life daily, but he wouldn't make ar-
rangements for her to come back. So she had organized this
party and Stanton had been obliged to move. They were
going to visit Richmond and then bring the President back
with them to Washington.

 "I don't suppose you had any idea of Sumner and me
working each other over a little, crowded together on the
River Queen7" Lincoln whispered, half amused, half irritated.

 Mary looked up at him pleadingly. "Abratm, promise me
that you'll be nice to the Senatorl"

 He looked down at her and said, half wonderingly, "Mary,
it comes to me for the first time what Grant has given me.
Do you know there isn't a resentment in my heart toward
any one in the world? The same God that brought peace to
this distracted country isn't going to let Sumner's crazy
notions rend it. God is going to let me bind the nation's
wounds in my own way. You needn't worry. It's going to be
easy for me to be nice to Sumner."

 Mary stared up to him and suddenly blinked back tears.
She patted his arm and turned to her guests.

 Lincoln was upset by the news the party brought of a bad
accident to Secretary Seward. His jaw had been broken in a
runaway. It was time for him to get back to Washington. He
did not care to accompany the group to Richmond; to hear
Sumner and the Marquis and Mary chattering in French
while death muttered all around them.

 Sam Hooper and Alice called on him soon after the others
departed. Nice fellow, Hooper, with no fanatical notions
about anything. Mrs. Hooper had mellowed too. He invited
them to come to supper to meet Mary's guests on their
return. Sumner's face when he beheld Alice Hooper ought
to be worth any price paid for the experiment!

 But as it happened, the President did not behold the
meeting between the two. The party returned from
Richmond in mid-afternoon and Sumner arranged for a visit
to the army hospitals. Crossing the wharf, he met Alice. She
was followed by a maid, carrying a great basket of the sour

450 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

pickles so passionately craved by the wounded. They had just
landed from the skiff that had brought them from Hooper's
boat.

"AIicel" ejaculated the Senator, standing for a moment as if
frozen.

  "Senator!" she returned, looking extremely handsome in
the dark blue silk cloak and tiny white bonnet she was
wearing. Simple clothing merely enhanced her beauty.

  Sumner rushed forward and took her hand. "You're not
surprised to see met"

  "Nor" shaking her head, "Mr. Lincoln apprised us of the
tremendous fact of your presence when he invited us to
supper to-night."

  "Don't laugh at met" he begged. "I can't bear it. May I go
with you, wherever you may be goings"

  "If you wish I'm on my way to one of the hospitals where
they say there's a large number of our Boston boys. If you'll
take the basket, Becky can return to the boat," smiling up
into his face. "It's a long time since we've had a tete-a-tete."

  "I've a vehicle of sorts out on the road, driven by a colored
Jehu," said Sumner, taking the basket with alacrity and
piloting her carefully among bales and crates to a decrepit
Victoria drawn by a mule scarcely more unkempt than the
old negro on the seat. "This is hardly up to your father's
Morgans, but it's the best I could lay hands on," he
continued. He handed her gravely to her place and ordered
the colored man to find a route to the hospital unknown to
ambulances. Then he stepped into the carriage. "So I'm to
have the pleasure of being with you at supper to-night7
Strange the President didn't mention it."

  "He said that if we surprised you, the look on your
countenance would be worth any price the experiment might
cost." Alice looked up at him, eyes twinkling.

  "And what did he mean by that7" with a puzzled scowl on
his pale face. He was looking very much worn.

  "He didn't explain himself," replied Alice. "He can't know
how we last parted, so he couldn't have been anticipating a
public reconciliation. In fact, I'm not sure that there will be
or has been a reconciliation. Let's seel Our last quarrel had
to do with my telling you what I thought of your defeat of
the President's bill1 I still am unchanged as to that,
Senator."

  "Don'tl I beg of you, Alice. Let's not mention politics.
Let's sing a Te Deum together that Richmond has fallen and
then let's talk only of our two selves."

  Alice looked from the disreputable mule to the
disreputable darky and from the darky to Sumner in his blue
broadcloth coat and fawn-colored pantaloons. The thought
of herself and the immaculate Senator chanting together
under such chaperonage was too much for her risibilities and
she bubbled over with laughter. The old darky looked round
sympathetically.

  "That's right, Missl" he said, "you-all be joyful in de Lawd
dis ebeningl You'se a-riding with the Holy Ghostes self that
helped the Sabior of the

"GOD'S IN HIS HEAVEN" 451

riggers to disday of Jubilee. Yaas'm." He turned back to the
mule which had come to a halt during this apostrophe. "Git
up, Judas," he urged.

 But Judas was aweary. He had halted under a budding tulip
tree in a quiet lane where the weltering sun could not strike
him and where there was a matchless view of the harbor with
the long half-moon of war vessels sheltering the wharves. He
slumped well down between the shafts and went to sleep.

 Sumner leaned forward impatiently but Alice touched his
arm. "This is the South. There's no hurry. Let's see what
happens."

 The Senator looked down at the little hand and leaned back
with a sigh of deep content.

 The darky did not move for a full minute. Then he turned
round with a rueful twist of the lips under the grizzled white
beard. "I reckon I might just as well tell you-all lady and
genmun that I cayn't get Judas goin' lessen I build a fire
under him or lessen I go get old Peter to hitch to his forelock
and drag on him. Peter bein' my brudder's mule."

"How long will it take you to fetch Peter7" asked Sumner.

 "Not mor'n half a hour, Mass' Sumner. I'd be obleeged if I
could work it that way, cuz burning his old hide do make him
kick." The old man's voice was very pleading.

"Very welll But you must move rapidly," agreed the Senator.

  "Yassirl Faster'n Uncle Robert Lee's hoofin' it from Gineral
Grantl" clambering down and making off over a fresh-plowed
field.

  "What a glorious mischance!" exclaimed Sumner, tossing his
felt hat to the seat opposite. "Dear Alicel"

  "I deserve no credit for it, Senatorl" protested Alice. "But
I'll admit I'm very well content. Do you think there's any
chance that Judas will come out of his coma and starts Our
Jehu has left his reins dragging."

  Sumner rescued the knotted ropes that answered for reins
and hung them within easy reach over the whip. "I shall be
grievously disappointed if he starts before Jehu's
return. Alice, coming down on the boat from Washington I
spent much of the night on deck thinking of you. Somehow,
under the stars, it was impossible to concentrate on affairs of
state. My mind was filled with your lovely self. And thinking
so, free of all the irritations inseparable from Washington, I
realized that I'd played a petty part with you."

  She looked up at him, her face a little sad. "Dear Senator,
you're never petty. You were merely true to yourself. It was
I with my ambitions that was petty. You and I both have our
arrogances and our egotisms, Senator, but I see some things
clearer than you do. I shouldn't have criticized your splendid
career. It was putting my own little dreams ahead of your big
ones."

  "Nol Nol You shall not say thatl" cried Sumner. "Let's not
talk of it. Let me tell you of my love for you and how it's
filling me more and more with an unrest that will not be
stilled. Let me ask you again to be my

452 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

wifel Give me yourself to cherish and adore and take me as
I imperfectly am. Alicel Alicel"

  She sat quite still, her head in the little white bonnet
bowed. Faint bugle calls came from the ships below. There
was a smell of new earth. Robins and red birds called.

  Then Alice said in a low voice, "I shall not be a perfect
wife, Charles, but I love you dearly, dearly and admire you
extravagantly."

  Tears filled Sumner's eyes. He slipped his arm around her
waist and drew her gently against him. And then he kissed
her; at first softly but in a moment with the passion that told
of the breakdown of the dam of loneliness and frustration
built by the years. For a moment she was only tender with
him and then, as the years passed from him and she saw the
youthful beauty that age had only covered in his face and
not destroyed, she kindled to his fire.

  The sun had set when the colored Jehu appeared, dejected
and empty handed.

  "Pete, he done balked too," he reported. "Reckon I'd
better get that fire started."

Mercy, not" cried Alice. "How far is it back to the wharf?"

"About fifteen minutes' walk, Miss," replied Jehu, hopefully.

  "Then, Charles, let's walk," suggested Alice. "I feel the
need of expansion, as you would say. The man can bring the
basket back to me, when Judas permits."

  Sumner tossed a bill to the smiling darky and gave Alice
his hand from the carriage. He did not release it when she
was beside him and with the grinning Jehu watching they
strolled off into the dusk.

  Sumner began to press Alice to agree to an early
marriage. From his point of view there could be no reason
for more than a few months' engagement. But here the
amenability that had marked Alice during their two hours
together showed signs of hardening. The Hoopers, she
protested, would feel badly if she were to marry so soon
after the death of Sturgis.

  "In fact," she went on, "they're going to oppose any
marriage at all. They're quite content with the present
arrangement. So we mustn't think of the wedding before
another year. And you're so tied here that after we're
married, I shall expect never to get abroad again. Mr.
Hooper plans to take us all over to London this summer and
leave us for six months."

  Sumner groaned. "AIicel You almost make me want to be
Minister to England."

  "Well, why don't you be? Nol Don't be cross, dearl" as she
felt his fingers stiffen. "You shall be and do whatever you
wish. Keep right on fighting the darkies' fight for them. Kill
yourself in another struggle in the Senate, if it'll make you
happyl I warn you now, though, that I'll not invite Fred
Douglass to eat at our table."

  "There'll not be another Senatorial struggle," declared
Sumner firmly, "unless Mr. Lincoln precipitates it. And after
he ceases to be Com

"GOD'S IN HIS HEAVEN" 453

mender-in-Chief, he'll have no authority whatever. No, that
fight is Snished."

  "And do you think he'll try to precipitate another struggle?"
asked Alice, casually.

  "No, I don't. I never saw a man more thoroughly whipped
than he was, last month. They tell me he was actually
despondent. And I know he's made no move since. In fact, he
can't move now, without Congress. He can't appoint military
Governors and cause them to call elections. No, thanks to
killing that iniquitous bill of his, Congress is now in the
saddle."

  "You mean you're in the saddle with Congress riding
postillion fashion," laughed Alice. "Do you see the rim of the
moon behind the masts of those ships, Charles7 It looks like
Holland. I'm afraid we're going to be very late for the
President's supper. We must not delay to dress."

  They boarded the River Queen just as the party was sitting
down at the table. Lincoln, eyeing them keenly as they stood
together in the doorway, wondered just why Alice had wished
to rob him of his surprise. He was half minded to joke her
about it. But although Sumner was extraordinarily whimsical
and cordial at the supper table and Alice so gentle that her
father-in-law eyed her wonderingly, no mention of the
obvious situation between the two was invited by either Alice
or Sumner.

  When supper was over, Lincoln went out on the deck. He
wished very much to go up to Beckwith's tent but wasn't sure
that Mary wouldn't feel he was neglecting the guests. There
was a full moon on the river. Its enchantment softened the
brutal paraphernalia of war to delicate beauty Even the
distant sounds of Grant's pursuit of Lee lost some of their
suggestiveness in competition with this enthrallment of the
eye. As Lincoln stood by the rail in contemplation, Sumner
joined him.

  "Mr. Lincoln," he said in a low voice, "Mrs. Hooper and I
wish that you and Mrs. Lincoln shall be among the first to
know of our great happiness."

  The President took the proffered hand in a mighty grip. "I
saw it on your faces when you arrived! All the good things in
the world be showered on you, Senatorl Your wife will be a
beautiful and gifted lady."

  In the moonlight, he saw that Sumner's face was
indescribably softened and moved. "I can't believe that after
all these years, I'm to know the bliss of marriage," he
murmured.

  Lincoln dropped his hand on the Senator's shoulder.
"You'll be the handsomest couple in Washington, by Jings,
and I shall certainly dance at your wedding. When will it be,
Senator7"

  "That's the one fly in the ointment," replied Sumner with a
sigh. "Mrs. Hooper wishes to postpone it for a year." He gave
the President Alice's reasons.

  Lincoln shook his head. "Too badl But I reckon she'll give
in if you let her see how you feel about it."

454 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

 "I don't want to be selfish in my demands," said the
Senator. "She has been so generous with me."

 "Didn't insist that you lay your future career in her pretty
little hands, eh7" asked Lincoln, with a smile.

 "Nol Nol" protested Sumner. "Strange as it may seem to
you, Mr. Lincoln, she cares for me without reference to my
career."

"Now, why should it seem strange to met" asked Lincoln.

 Sumner leaned against the rail, facing the President. "To
tell you the truth, sir, I've felt that since February you've
hated me."

 "Oh, come now, Senatorl Allow me a little slackl You
knocked my dearest hopes higher than a kite. Trumbull and
I felt as if a cyclone had been playing tag with us. It's a
wonder I didn't return the ring and all your letters! Instead
of that I got your friends out of jail for your"

Sumner smiled slowly. "It was a fair fight, Mr. Lincoln."

 "Absolutely! And the best man won. Trumbull says he's
through," with a chuckle.

"And your" asked Sumner.

 "I'm telling you frankly, Senator," sighed the President,
"that I never felt so beaten in my life. I have no more ideas
than an egg. I'm certain of just one thing. I'm going to keep
your friendship. I've gotten very little to take away with me
out of Washington, Senator. But I'm doing my best to take
that. Friendship isn't as precious to you as it is to me."

 Sumner's face contracted with pain. "Don't say that! I
don't deserve it, truly. Friendship means much to me. It's all
I've had."

 "I think you've been careless with a good many of your
friendships," insisted Lincoln. "With mine, for instance. But
I won't let you go. Sometimes I'm surprised when I examine
my feeling for you, Charles, because I reckon I've never had
before or will have again just that kind of a liking for any
one. I suppose a lean, sallow, cadaverous fellow like me is
bound to be attracted by your handsome looks. I couldn't
have the same liking for you if you were a little, slim,
consumptive man like Stephens of Georgia. I like your
prideful way of comporting yourself. - 'Why, man, he cloth
bestride the narrow world like a Colossus and we petty men
walk under his huge legs and prowl about to find ourselves
dishonorable graves.'  And there's your glorious voice.
Makes mine sound like a rabbit's squeak."

 "Nol Nol You embarrass me, dear Mr. Lincolnl" Sumner's
eyes were full of tears.

 Lincoln, watching him, felt his whole heart go out to the
Senator. There was something pathetic, something that
tugged at all his sympathies about Sumner. He felt that same
almost overwhelming gush of pity and love rising within him
against which he had fought at Hampton Roads. But he
didn't strive against this.

 "Charles! Charlesl You're a very noble figure of a maul I
wish I were one of the monarchs of old who could tap a
loved favorite on the shoulder and make him a knightl Sans
pear et suns reproche. I know a little French, myself. That's
itl It's your integrity, Charlesl That's the core of your charm

"GOD'S IN HIS HEAVEN" 455

for us. I'd rather my boys had it than any other single quality.
We all rest on your integrity, Charles, as on the Everlasting
Arms."

 "Don'tl Ah, don't, Mr. Lincolul" Sumner's face worked.
"You overwhelm me with your generosity. Me, who have
worked against you, thwarted you, beaten you." He took a
step across the deck and turned back holding out both his
hands. The tears were running down his cheeks. "Mr. Lincoln,
I will be Secretary of State for your"

 Lincoln could feel himself grow faint. He clung speechlessly
to Sumner's hands. The leap of relief in his breast was
physically painful. Sumner out of Congress giving Lirzcoln a
free hand with reconstruction! "Is that a promise, Charles?" he
finally gasped.

"Yesl You must give me a few months to arrange my affairs."

 "Take all the time you wantl" Lincoln paused, still holding
the firm fingers in his own. "You and Grant between you
to-day have given me perfect happiness. I've had only one
other hour as great. That was when I signed the
Emancipation Proclamation. Go down to your Alice now,
Senator, before I weepl"

Sumner gripped Lincoln's hands and obediently turned away.

 Shortly after this the Hoopers left, and the River Queen
started back to Washington.

 Lincoln's mood of exaltation demanded expression. He
went to his cabin and procured the beautiful quarto volume
of Shakespeare that Mary had given him on his last birthday.
Then he joined the group in the cabin. Mary looked up with
a smile.

"We're debating Jeff Davis' fate," she said.

  "Judge not, that ye be not judged," he replied, soberly.
Then he seated himself under a lamp and opened his book.
"If you all are in my frame of mind, Shakespeare alone can
satisfy you. And of Shakespeare, only Macbeth."

  "Oh, not Macbethl" cried Mary, shuddering. "Give us
something gentle and tender, Mr. Lincoln, like Tennyson or
Longfellow."

  "Like 'Resignation,' I suppose " smiled Lincoln and he
repeated aloud:

"'There is no flock, however watched and tended,

 But one dead lamb is therel
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended
But has one vacant chair '
No! Nol That's too tamer Give me Macbeth....
"'Duncan is in his grave;
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.
Treason has done its worst; nor steel nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy,
Nothing can touch him further....'"
He adjusted his spectacles. "That has teeth! Let's have the
witches next.

456 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

You should have seen them at work on the night of March
Z9 over Petersburg."

 He read for an hour in his dramatic fashion, then closed
the book. After all, Macbeth was a tragedy and his was no
tragic mood. He went on deck for one last look at the
serene beauty of the night. Mary followed him and they
stood together by the rail in silent communion.

 After a moment, Lincoln said, "Mary, Sumner has filled
my cup to overflowing."

"You've made up?" cried Mary.

 "Well," smiled the President, "you might call it so. You
know that a hundred times the last two years I've tried to
woo Sumner and I couldn't. But to-night, without thinking
of a thing except my honest love for him, I wooed and won
him." He told her of their conversation and of its extraor-
dinary climax, ending with the remark, "I don't yet see why
he came to my armsl"

 "Oh, but I do, Abra'ml He thinks, as I've told you before,
that you're finished. He thinks you're powerless now to hurt
his cause."

 Lincoln laughed softly. "Then I wooed him under false
colors because I am certain that as soon as Andy Johnson
and I get our heads together we can pull the teeth of the
Vindictives. No, not false colors either. I love Sumner and
he knows it."

"Yes," murmured Mary, "at last, thank God, he knows it."

 She leaned against him. Lincoln put his arm about her,
pressing her warm body against his side, and in deep
happiness they watched the sliding Virginia shore.