THE INSULT
The day General Lee's army turned toward the north for the Maryland
shore, the President, with the eagerness of a boy, hurried to
McClellan's house to shake his hand, bid him God's speed and assure him
of his earnest support and good wishes.
The absurdity of the ruler of a mighty Nation hurrying on foot to the
house of one of his generals never occurred to his mind.
The autocratic power over the lives and future of millions to which he
had been called had thrown no shadow of vanity or self pride over his
simple life. Responsibility had only made clearer his judgment,
strengthened his courage, broadened and deepened his love for his fellow
man.
He wished to see his Commanding General and bid him God's speed. The
General was busy and he wished to take up but a few minutes of his time.
And so without a moment's hesitation he walked to his house accompanied
only by Hay, his Assistant Secretary.
On the way he was jubilant with hope:
"We've got them now, Boy--we've got them, and this war must speedily
end! Lee will never get into Maryland with fifty thousand effective men.
With the river hemming him in on the rear I'll have McClellan on him
with a hundred thousand well shod, well fed, well armed and with the
finest artillery that ever thundered into battle. We're bound to win."
"If McClellan can whip him, sir?"
"Yes, of course, he's got to do that," was the thoughtful answer. "And
you know I believe he'll do it. McClellan's on his mettle now. His army
will fight like tigers to show their faith in him. He's vain and
ambitious, yes--many great men are. Ambition's a mighty human motive."
"I'm afraid it's bad diplomacy, sir, to go to his house like this--he is
vain, you know," the younger man observed with a frown.
"Tut, tut, Boy, it's no time for ceremony. Who cares a copper!"
The clock in the church tower struck ten as Hay sprang up the steps and
rang the bell.
"I hope he hasn't gone to bed," the Secretary said.
"At ten o'clock?" the President laughed, "a great general about to march
on the most important campaign of his life--hardly."
The straight orderly saluted and ushered them into the elegant reception
room--the room so often graced by the Prince de Joinville and the Comte
de Paris, of the General's staff.
The orderly sniffed the air in a superior butler style:
"The General has not come in yet, gentlemen."
"We'll wait," was the President's quick response.
They sat in silence and the minutes dragged.
The young Secretary, in rising wrath, looked again and again at the
clock.
"Don't be so impatient, John," the quiet, even voice said. "Great bodies
move slowly, they say--come here and sit down--I'll tell you a secret.
The Cabinet knows it--and you can, too."
He leaned his giant figure forward in his chair and touched an official
document which he had drawn from his pocket.
"Great events hang on this battle. I've written out here a challenge to
mortal combat for all our foes, North, South, East and West. I'm going
to free the slaves if we win this battle and we're sure to win it----"
Hay glanced at the door with a startled look.
"McClellan and I don't agree on this subject and he mightn't fight as
well if he knew it. It's a thing of doubtful wisdom at its best to hurl
this challenge into the face of my foe. But the time has come and it
must be done. We have made no headway in this war, and we must crush the
South to end it. If the Copperhead leaders should get control of the
Democratic party because of it--well, it means trouble at home. Douglas
is dead and the jackal is trying to wear the lion's skin. He may
succeed, but then I must risk it. I'll lose some good soldiers from the
army but I've got to do it. All I'm waiting for now is a victory on
which to launch my thunderbolt----"
A key clicked in the front door and the quick, firm step of McClellan
echoed through the hall.
The orderly was reporting his distinguished visitor. They could hear his
low words, and the sharp answer.
The General mounted the stairs and entered the front room overhead. He
was there, of course, to arrange his toilet. He was a stickler for
handsome clothes, spotless linen and the last detail of ceremony.
Again the minutes dragged. The tick of the clock on the mantel rang
through the silent room and the face of the younger man grew red with
rage.
Unable to endure the insolence of a subordinate toward the great
Chieftain, whom he loved with a boy's blind devotion, Hay sprang to his
feet:
"Let's go, sir!"
The big hand was quietly raised in a gesture of command and he sank into
his seat.
Five minutes more passed and the sound of approaching footsteps were
heard quickly, firmly pressed with military precision.
The President nodded:
"You see, my son!"
But instead of the General the handsome figure of his aide, John
Vaughan, appeared in the doorway:
"The General begs me to say, Mr. President, that he is too much fatigued
to see any one this evening and has retired for the night."
The orderly stepped pompously to the door to usher them out and John
Vaughan bowed and returned to his commander.
Hay sprang to his feet livid with rage and spoke to his Chief with
boyish indignation.
"You are not going to take this insult from him?"
The tall figure slowly rose and stood in silence.
"Remove him from his command," the younger man pleaded. "For God's sake
do it now. Write the order for his removal this minute--give it to me!
I'll kick his door open and hand it to him."
The deep set dreamy eyes were turned within as he said in slow intense
tones:
"No--I'll hold McClellan's horse for him if he'll give us one victory!"