For if the upper classes of Europe were proud of their military prowess, the rich men of the Northern states of America had no such illusions. In England, aristocrats and gentlemen, especially younger sons, crowded into the fashionable regiments, paid money for their officers’ commissions, and thought themselves fine fellows when they paraded in their uniforms. Were they not—in fact, or at least in theory—descendants of the barons and knights of medieval England? The aristocrat did not trade. He did not draw up your will, or cure you of sickness. God forbid. That was for the middle classes. The aristocrat lived on the land and led his men into battle. And in America, too, among the old landed families from Virginia southward, some echo of that tradition might still be found. But not in Boston, Connecticut or New York. To hell with that. Pay your money and let the poor fellow be killed.

The poor fellows knew it of course.

“It’s a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight,” complained those who could not afford the fee. And the city authorities had been concerned that the draft might lead to some trouble.

Accordingly, that Saturday morning, they’d chosen to begin the selection at the Ninth District Headquarters, which was an isolated building set among some empty lots up at Third and Forty-seventh, well away from the main body of the city. Frank Master had gone up there to take a look, and found a large crowd watching the marshal draw names from a barrel. But they’d seemed quiet. And after a while, evidently relieved, the marshal had stopped, announcing that selection wouldn’t resume until Monday.

“You don’t look very pleased,” Frank remarked to Hetty.

Still his wife said nothing.

“You actually want Tom to go and fight in this damn fool war? Because he doesn’t want to, I can tell you.”

“He must make his own choice.”

“He did,” said Master firmly, in a voice that clearly implied: “So you’re on your own.”

If Frank and Hetty Master’s marriage had been under strain at the time of the Cooper Institute speech, events since had not made things any easier between them. Lincoln had become the Republican candidate, and he’d run a shrewd campaign.