"European purchasing is under investigation," Cameron said. "But, in my opinion, such a course is unnecessarily extravagant."

Scott stamped on the floor. "Damn it, Cameron, you talk extravagance in the face of rebellion by traitorous combinations?"

"Keep in mind the twentieth of next month," added Chase.

"Mr. Greeley and certain others seldom let me forget it."

But the waspy words went unheard as Chase roared ahead: "We must crush Davis and his crowd before they assert their legitimacy to France and Great Britain. We must crush them utterly. I agree with Congressman Stevens, from your own state. If the rebels won't give up and return to the fold —"

"They won't." Scott handed down the word from on high. "I know Virginians. I know Southerners."

Chase went right on: "— we should follow Thad Stevens's advice to the letter. Reduce the South to a mudhole."

At that, the Chief Executive cleared his throat.

It was a modest sound, but it happened to fall during a pause, and no one could ignore it without being rude. Lincoln rose, thrusting hands in his side pockets, which merely emphasized how gangly he looked. Gangly and exhausted. Yet he was only in his early fifties. From Ward Lamon, a presidential crony, Stanley had heard that Lincoln believed he would never return to Spring­field. Anonymous letters threatening his murder came to his office every day.

"Well —" Lincoln said. Then he spoke quickly; not with volume but with definite authority. "I wouldn't say I agree with the Stevens response to the insurrection. I have been anxious and careful that the policy of this government doesn't degenerate into some violent, remorseless struggle. Some social revolution which would leave the Union permanently torn. I want it back together, and for that reason, none other, I would hope for a quick capitulation by the temporary government in Richmond. Not," he emphasized, "to satisfy Mr. Greeley, mind. To get this over with and find some accommodation to end slavery."