The Path of the King [107]
the possibility that it may be a rank failure. It is the boldest step you have taken, Mr. President. Have you ever regretted it?"
Lincoln shook his head. "It don't do to start regretting. This war is managed by the Almighty, and if it's his purpose that we should win He will show us how. I regard our fallible reasoning and desperate conclusions as part of His way of achieving His purpose. But about that draft. I'll answer you in the words of a young Quaker woman who against the rules had married a military man. The elders asked her if she was sorry, and she replied that she couldn't truly say that she was sorry, but that she could say she wouldn't do it again. I was for the draft, and I was for the war, to prevent democracy making itself foolish."
"You'll never succeed in that," said Stanton gravely.
"If Congress is democracy, there can't be a more foolish gathering outside a monkey-house."
The President grinned broadly. He was humming the air of a nigger song, "The Blue-tailed Fly," which Lamon had taught him.
"That reminds me of Artemus Ward. He observes that at the last election he voted for Henry Clay. It's true, he says, that Henry was dead, but Since all the politicians that he knew were fifteenth-rate he preferred to vote for a first-class corpse."
Stanton moved impatiently. He hated the President's pocket humorists and had small patience with his tales. "Was ever a great war fought," he cried, with such a camp-following as our Congressmen?"
Lincoln looked comically surprised.
"You're too harsh, Mr. Stanton. I admit there are one or two rascals who'd be better hanged. But the trouble is that most of them are too high-principled. They are that set on liberty that they won't take the trouble to safeguard it. They would rather lose the war than give up their little notions. I've a great regard for principles, but I have no use for them when they get so high that they become foolishness."
"Every idle pedant thinks he knows better how to fight a war than the men who are labouring sixteen hours a day at it," said Stanton bitterly.
They want to hurry things quicker than the Almighty means them to go. I don't altogether blame them either, for I'm mortally impatient myself. But it s no good thinking that saying a thing should be so will make it so. We're not the Creator of this universe. You've got to judge results according to your instruments. Horace Greeley is always telling me what I should do, but Horace omits to explain how I am to find the means. You can't properly manure a fifty-acre patch with only a bad smell."
Lincoln ran his finger over the leaves of the small Bible he had taken from his pocket "Seems to me Moses had the same difficulties to contend with. Read the sixteenth chapter of the book of Numbers at your leisure, Mr. Secretary. It's mighty pertinent to our situation. The people have been a deal kinder to me than I deserve and I've got more cause for thankfulness than complaint. But sometimes I get just a little out of patience with our critics. I want to say to them as Moses said to Korah, Dathan, and Abiram--'Ye take too much upon you, ye sons of Levi!'"
Lincoln's speech had broadened into something like the dialect of his boyhood. Stanton finished the paper on which he had been engaged and stepped aside from his desk. His face was heavily preoccupied and he kept an eye always on the door leading to his private secretary's room.
"At this moment," he said, "Hooker is engaged with Lee." He put a finger on a map which was stretched on a frame behind him. "There! On the Rappahannock, where it is joined by the Rapidan. . . . Near the hamlet of Chancellorsville. . . . Battle was joined two days ago, and so far it has been indecisive. Tonight we should know the result. That was the news you came here to-night about, Mr. President?"
Lincoln nodded. "I am desperately anxious. I needn't conceal that from you, Mr. Stanton."
"So am I. I wish to God I had more confidence in General Hooker. I never liked that appointment, Mr. President. I should have preferred Meade or
Lincoln shook his head. "It don't do to start regretting. This war is managed by the Almighty, and if it's his purpose that we should win He will show us how. I regard our fallible reasoning and desperate conclusions as part of His way of achieving His purpose. But about that draft. I'll answer you in the words of a young Quaker woman who against the rules had married a military man. The elders asked her if she was sorry, and she replied that she couldn't truly say that she was sorry, but that she could say she wouldn't do it again. I was for the draft, and I was for the war, to prevent democracy making itself foolish."
"You'll never succeed in that," said Stanton gravely.
"If Congress is democracy, there can't be a more foolish gathering outside a monkey-house."
The President grinned broadly. He was humming the air of a nigger song, "The Blue-tailed Fly," which Lamon had taught him.
"That reminds me of Artemus Ward. He observes that at the last election he voted for Henry Clay. It's true, he says, that Henry was dead, but Since all the politicians that he knew were fifteenth-rate he preferred to vote for a first-class corpse."
Stanton moved impatiently. He hated the President's pocket humorists and had small patience with his tales. "Was ever a great war fought," he cried, with such a camp-following as our Congressmen?"
Lincoln looked comically surprised.
"You're too harsh, Mr. Stanton. I admit there are one or two rascals who'd be better hanged. But the trouble is that most of them are too high-principled. They are that set on liberty that they won't take the trouble to safeguard it. They would rather lose the war than give up their little notions. I've a great regard for principles, but I have no use for them when they get so high that they become foolishness."
"Every idle pedant thinks he knows better how to fight a war than the men who are labouring sixteen hours a day at it," said Stanton bitterly.
They want to hurry things quicker than the Almighty means them to go. I don't altogether blame them either, for I'm mortally impatient myself. But it s no good thinking that saying a thing should be so will make it so. We're not the Creator of this universe. You've got to judge results according to your instruments. Horace Greeley is always telling me what I should do, but Horace omits to explain how I am to find the means. You can't properly manure a fifty-acre patch with only a bad smell."
Lincoln ran his finger over the leaves of the small Bible he had taken from his pocket "Seems to me Moses had the same difficulties to contend with. Read the sixteenth chapter of the book of Numbers at your leisure, Mr. Secretary. It's mighty pertinent to our situation. The people have been a deal kinder to me than I deserve and I've got more cause for thankfulness than complaint. But sometimes I get just a little out of patience with our critics. I want to say to them as Moses said to Korah, Dathan, and Abiram--'Ye take too much upon you, ye sons of Levi!'"
Lincoln's speech had broadened into something like the dialect of his boyhood. Stanton finished the paper on which he had been engaged and stepped aside from his desk. His face was heavily preoccupied and he kept an eye always on the door leading to his private secretary's room.
"At this moment," he said, "Hooker is engaged with Lee." He put a finger on a map which was stretched on a frame behind him. "There! On the Rappahannock, where it is joined by the Rapidan. . . . Near the hamlet of Chancellorsville. . . . Battle was joined two days ago, and so far it has been indecisive. Tonight we should know the result. That was the news you came here to-night about, Mr. President?"
Lincoln nodded. "I am desperately anxious. I needn't conceal that from you, Mr. Stanton."
"So am I. I wish to God I had more confidence in General Hooker. I never liked that appointment, Mr. President. I should have preferred Meade or