Mrs. Lincoln's Rival (16 page)

Other appointments, diplomats and assistant secretaries, were nominated and approved, and it was while Secretary Seward’s son was being confirmed as the assistant secretary of state that Father returned to the chamber. Immediately, several of his colleagues approached to clap him on the back and shake his hand, and Kate’s heart went out to him in that moment of confusion, for he had no idea why congratulations were in order. She watched, pained, as realization dawned on his face. Suddenly he gathered up his coat and satchel and strode from the room.

Murmuring apologies to those seated around her, Kate quickly rose and hurried from the gallery, expecting to meet her father in the rotunda, but although she waited, pacing back and forth and glancing down the corridors, he failed to appear long after he should have done.

She had been too slow and had missed him, and in his shock he had forgotten to wait for her.

Kate considered returning to the gallery, but the sudden bustle of senators and spectators in the corridors told her that executive business had been completed and the Senate had adjourned for the day. Thoughts racing, she began to walk home, wondering where Father had gone, hoping she would find him at his desk at the Rugby House writing a furious letter to Mr. Lincoln, and fearing that he had gone straight to the White House to voice his outrage and decline the appointment.

She wondered if any man had ever been offered a place in a president’s cabinet in such an inexplicable, almost underhanded manner.

When Kate returned home, she found Nettie and Vina hanging red, white, and blue bunting around the parlor, and they had bought a cake to celebrate Father’s first full day in the Senate. Kate laughed helplessly at the thought of a celebration, when she had no idea whether Father was at that moment elated or furious.

She waited, pacing until Nettie begged her to stop, and then she tried to distract herself with a novel, and then with letter writing to the many aunts, uncles, cousins, and distant friends who had asked her to send them her impressions of Inauguration Day. Shortly before suppertime, she heard the door open and Nettie greet their father delightedly. Setting her pen aside, Kate flew to meet him, and knew from the consternation in his expression that he had called on the president and was not altogether pleased with the words they had exchanged.

He had gone to the White House, Father reported as he sank into the room’s best chair and Kate sent Vina to fetch some tea. “I expressed to him my anger, and my disappointment, and my shock at his neglect of the proper protocol and simple decency in his handling of this matter.”

Kate tried not to wince as she imagined the scene, her father angry and hectoring, Mr. Lincoln somber and sympathetic. “And then?”

“And then, naturally, I declined the office.”

Kate sank into the chair opposite him. “How did the president respond?”

Father sighed, ran a hand over his brow, and was silent for a moment. “He was very somber, and full of regret, and he noted quite correctly that, having been confirmed by the Senate, if I withdrew now, it would occasion him great embarrassment.”

“It certainly would,” said Kate carefully, “and you could suffer in the esteem of the people for it.”

“It could weaken his administration before it could properly take hold, and it would damage the party,” Father acknowledged. “He asked me to reconsider, and I told him that I would give it careful thought.”

“I think that was the wise thing to do,” said Kate, unable to keep a tremor of relief from her voice.

Father did reflect carefully that night, and prayed about it, and in the morning he told Kate that he had decided to accept the president’s appointment. The Department of the Treasury and the second-most-powerful cabinet position were his.

It was not until later that Kate remembered Governor Sprague’s prescient words at the Inaugural Ball. How had he known what was to come, when even Father had not?

M
ARCH
–M
AY
1861

W
hen Father sat down for the first time behind his polished walnut desk in his high-ceilinged office on the third floor of the southeast corner of the new Treasury Building, a magnificent marble structure at Fifteenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, tears of pride sprang into Kate’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away before Father or Nettie noticed. “You look quite at home here,” she proclaimed. “These elegant rooms make the White House look shabby in comparison.”

“The White House looks shabby compared to almost anything,” said Nettie, quite correctly. “All that torn carpeting and worn-out furniture and cut-up draperies. I think if Mr. Lincoln could see your office, Father, he would want to trade jobs with you so that he could have this for himself.”

“I rather think he would not,” said Father wryly, and Kate hid a smile. “Besides, the White House might not remain an embarrassment much longer. Congress allots twenty thousand dollars to each administration to refurbish the White House, and from what I’ve heard, Mrs. Lincoln has begun spending the allowance with unrestrained delight.”

“The Executive Mansion should be beautiful, elegant, and glorious,” said Kate, stifling a twinge of envy as she imagined selecting draperies, carpeting, and furniture for the Executive Mansion, “as befits a distinguished nation.” How wonderful it would be to have so much money to spend, and to put the mark of her own excellent taste on a building of such national and historic importance! She had enjoyed decorating their home in Columbus, and refurbishing the White House would have been an even more exhilarating task. It pained her to think what Mrs. Lincoln, fresh from the frontier, would consider tasteful and refined.

If her father could not reside at the White House, at least not yet, Kate was determined to see that he should have another home as befitting to his status and dignity as his handsome new offices were. And at last she found it: a three-story Greek Revival brick mansion at the corner of Sixth and E streets. It boasted a bracketed cornice, a pedimented entrance at the top of a stone staircase, and elaborate architraves around all the windows. The basement story was embellished with rusticated stone, and a low cupola atop the roof provided additional light and ventilation that would bring welcome relief from the humidity of summer. Inside were comfortable living quarters for the family and servants, a quiet study for Father, and spacious, elegant rooms for entertaining. It was a tolerable walk to the Treasury Building and not much farther to the White House, where Father expected often to be. Kate toured the residence on her own first, as she had done many times before at many other vacant homes, but after examining the building from cellar nearly to rooftop, she promptly scheduled a second viewing later that same day for the rest of the family. Father approved of the house, and Nettie adored it, and so Father leased the residence, agreeing to pay one hundred dollars a month in rent plus two additional dollars a week for wages for Mrs. Catherine Vaudry, the colored housekeeper in their landlord’s employ. The expense was greater than Father had hoped to spend, considering that his salary was only eight thousand dollars a year, but it was quite reasonable for the size, location, and quality of the property. Father and Kate agreed that it was highly unlikely that they would find anything as suitable for less.

The residence was modestly but inadequately furnished, and while the foundation and structure were sound and the interior had been well kept, it was in desperate need of refurbishment. Kate was delighted when Father delegated this task to her. “You transformed our home in Columbus into an elegant, gracious residence where all visitors, from the most humble to the most illustrious, felt comfortable and welcome,” he said. “I trust you will do the same here, where we can expect to entertain the most celebrated men of our age—senators, foreign dignitaries, and, of course, presidents.”

She felt the warm glow that his praise always inspired when it came without qualification—so rare it had been, from the time of her earliest memories, that her father’s praise was not preceded by twice again as much criticism. She knew how important a gracious home and a skillful hostess would be to her father in his new, exalted position, and she was gratified beyond measure that he entrusted that role to her.

She knew too that no one else could perform it half as well as herself, for no one else knew him as well as she, and no one was more devoted to him, and to his noble ambitions.

With his usual stern, anxious admonitions not to spend any more than she absolutely must, Father dispatched Kate to purchase wallpapers, carpets, furniture, china, anything that could not be sent or needed to be replaced from their home in Columbus. It was with great pleasure that she obeyed. She soon discovered that there was nothing suitable to be had in Washington City, so she made several trips to Philadelphia and New York to obtain what she needed, choosing one object here, another there, accumulating the perfect furnishings over time.

It was while she was on an excursion to Philadelphia that Governor Sprague finally called at the Rugby House. She learned about his visit only upon her return, and she was disappointed that she had missed him, disgruntled that he could not have come on one of the great many days she had been in Washington, annoyed with herself for caring either way, and quite unhappy that the purpose for his visit had been to bid the Chase family farewell, for the following day he was returning to Rhode Island, to his governor’s chair and his bustling factories.

How fortunate it was that she did not care what William Sprague did, Kate reminded herself. She had hardly suffered from a dearth of interesting conversation in his absence; in fact, she had been only partly aware that he had remained in Washington after the Inaugural Ball. John Hay had called several times since that night, even though his work as the president’s assistant private secretary kept him terrifically busy. Mr. Hay intrigued her with his stories of the White House, he was respectful to her father, and he never forgot to bring along a little gift for Nettie—new pencils, a cloth-bound sketchbook. Only two years older than herself in contrast to Governor Sprague’s ten, he had been named “Class Poet” in the year of his graduation from Brown, and he could enchant her with an evocative sonnet as easily as he could amuse her with a lighthearted joke. Nor was Mr. Hay her only admirer—and if Governor Sprague chose not to apply that title to himself, that was fine with her. She certainly did not admire
him
, she told herself firmly, banishing the Boy Governor from her thoughts.

Her thoughts were full enough with other, far more important matters. On the day after the inauguration, the first item placed upon the new president’s desk had been a letter from Major Anderson at Fort Sumter, informing him that their provisions would be exhausted within a month, even though the men had already dropped to half rations. An addendum from General Scott acknowledged that he saw no alternative but surrender.

At the end of the month, President and Mrs. Lincoln hosted a state dinner, their first, for the cabinet members, their ladies, and a few other dignitaries. It should have been a delightful evening. The Blue Room looked splendid, a testament to Mrs. Lincoln’s refurbishment scheme. The food was excellent, the company interesting and pleasant—with the exception of the hostess, who was in a particularly peculiar and demanding mood, at least when she was alone with Kate. Apparently she had been brooding over an imagined snub ever since the presidential train had passed through Columbus in February and Kate had not been there to welcome her. Kate tried to explain that the Chases had already left for Washington because Father had been appointed to the Peace Convention, but Mrs. Lincoln obstinately refused to accept that as a legitimate excuse. It was all very strange, and in parting, Kate spoke to her more imperiously than she should have done. She regretted her choice of words, but Mrs. Lincoln had been simply impossible and Kate had reached the limit of her tolerance. She was not some meek schoolgirl the First Lady could lord over, and Mrs. Lincoln might as well understand that from the beginning.

As they rode home from the dinner, Kate expected Father to rebuke her for not showing proper deference to the president’s wife, but when he did not mention the exchange, she began to hope that its underlying tone had escaped him. “After the gentlemen withdrew to the Red Room,” she said, to distract him, and also because she was curious, “I saw Mr. Nicolay summon the cabinet into another chamber. I assume it was to discuss an important matter of state.”

“Yes.” Father inhaled deeply, weighed down by the cares of his office. “Mr. Lincoln read us a report from General Scott.”

“Bad news, I gather.”

“It could hardly be worse. The general believes it is now unlikely that the voluntary evacuation of Fort Sumter alone would have any effect upon the decision of those states now considering whether to remain with the Union or secede.”

“How dreadful—but is that really a surprise? Have you not said all along that surrendering the fort would only embolden the secessionists?”

Father nodded. “I have said so, but few in the cabinet have agreed with me. General Scott also believes that in order to persuade these wavering slave states to remain in the Union, we would have to abandon Fort Pickens too, to prove that President Lincoln will keep the promises of his inaugural address and not interfere with slavery where it exists.”

“The Union is meant to sacrifice two forts in order to keep eight states.” Kate managed a bleak laugh. “Some would argue that what General Scott proposes is a fair trade, perhaps even advantageous.”

“This is Seward’s doing,” Father said grimly. “He’s had a temporizing influence on the president all along. He’s long argued that if the president abandons Fort Sumter, the South would be appeased and would eventually return to the Union.”

“That’s wishful thinking with no basis in logic, in my opinion.”

“Mr. Lincoln presented other arguments in his inaugural address that would be worthwhile to remember. He made a very convincing case for the illegality of any state to secede from the Union.”

“I suppose it remains to be seen which promise Mr. Lincoln will keep,” said Kate. “I cannot see how he can honor both.”

“Nor do I. Surrendering the forts would embarrass the North and tear the country asunder, and sending relief to Major Anderson could provoke an attack that would lead to civil war.” He fell silent for a moment. “The cabinet will meet again, tomorrow at noon, to discuss the latest intelligence from the South, and shortly thereafter, I expect Mr. Lincoln will make his decision.”

“I hope he’ll listen to your wise counsel,” Kate said, taking her father’s hand.

“Katie, dear,” Father said solemnly, “hope first that my counsel
will
be wise, for at this moment I don’t know how to advise him. From every direction I examine the problem, on the horizon, I invariably see war.”

Kate’s heart thumped, and she held his hand tighter.

They drove the rest of the way home in silence.

The following afternoon, Kate waited anxiously for her father to return home from the meeting at the White House. He brought stunning, though not altogether surprising news: After considering credible reports that Major Anderson’s position was untenable and that loyalty to the Union was dead in South Carolina, President Lincoln had determined to supply and reinforce both Fort Sumter in Charleston and Fort Pickens on Santa Rosa Island near Pensacola, Florida. The majority opinion of the cabinet agreed, with only Mr. Seward and Secretary of the Interior Caleb Smith dissenting.

How and when these relief operations would be conducted remained to be seen.

• • •

Even as he advised the president on the crisis in the South, Father was obliged to devote most of his long hours to the financial and fiscal affairs of the nation. As the former counsel for the Cincinnati branch of the Bank of the United States and the director of several Ohio banks, he was as well suited for his new position as any of his predecessors had been, and better prepared than most. He was well versed in prevailing economic theories, and his sound, logical mind and industrious temperament would enable him to educate himself quickly in the unfamiliar field of government finance.

What Father discovered in his first examination of the country’s ledgers was something just short of a disaster. The government was deeply in debt, with a mere three million dollars in its coffers against a total debt of almost sixty-five million. Corruption in the Buchanan administration, the Panic of 1857, and the rending of the Union had battered the nation’s finances, and with Congress out of session and thereby unable to authorize new taxes and tariffs to raise revenue, Father was forced to seek loans to meet expenses. At first the banks resisted, demanding higher interest rates than the nation could afford, but Father appealed to the bankers’ patriotism as well as their pragmatism and eventually managed to secure enough funding to keep the government solvent. “President Lincoln must hold the crumbling nation together,” Father grumbled to Kate over an increasingly rare chess game. “Secretary Cameron must defeat the rebels, and I must figure out how to pay for it all.”

But defeating the rebels was not entirely left up to Secretary Cameron, for Father soon took on numerous responsibilities that ordinarily belonged within the War Department. As a longtime resident of Cincinnati, just across the Ohio River from the crucial border state of Kentucky, Father naturally became the president’s chief advisor on the region. Mr. Lincoln relied upon him to take principal charge of preventing not only Kentucky, but also Missouri and Tennessee, from succumbing to secessionist threats from within. Father authorized a loyal state senator to raise twenty Union companies from Kentucky, and he composed the orders that granted Andrew Johnson, the only United States senator from a Confederate state who had remained loyal to the Union, to muster regiments in Tennessee. All the while, the president was mindful that secessionist sympathizers lingered, often unknown, in every department, with the potential to substantially undermine the security of the Union. Since official agents could not be relied upon, President Lincoln, with the unanimous consent of the cabinet, instructed Father to dispense millions of dollars to a small group of trustworthy private individuals who would be authorized to negotiate contracts for the manufacturing of weapons and supplies required to mobilize the military.