The president could not see the force or logic in this last argument. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “If your reasoning were correct, it would be a good argument.” I saw that I had misspoken. “I don’t see how,” he continued, “sending one sick man north is going to give us in a year ten well ones.”
A quizzical smile played over his face at my slight embarrassment. “Mr. Lincoln, you understand me, I think. I intended to say, if you will let the sick come north, you will have ten well men in the army one year from today, where you have one well one now; whereas, if you do not let them come north, you will not have one from the ten, for they will all be dead.”
“Yes, yes, I understand you; but if they are sent north, they will desert; where is the difference?”
“Dead men cannot fight,” I answered, “and they may not desert.”
Mr. Lincoln’s eye flashed as he replied, “A fine way, a fine way to decimate the army, we should never get a man of them back, not one, not one.”
“Indeed, but you must pardon me when I say you are mistaken; you do not understand our people. You do not trust them sufficiently. They are as true and as loyal to the government
as you say. The loyalty is among the common soldiers and they have ever been the chief sufferers.”
“This is your opinion,” he said with a sort of a sneer. “Mrs. Harvey, how many men do you suppose the government was paying in the Army of the Potomac at the battle of Antietam, and how many men do you suppose could be got for active service at that time? I wish you would give a guess.”
“I know nothing of the Army of the Potomac, only there were some noble sacrifices there. When I spoke of loyalty, I referred to our western army.”
“Well, now, give a guess. How many?”