Mrs. Lincoln's Rival (26 page)

Kate needed a moment to collect her thoughts before she read on. Such a bold suggestion from a young girl, who Kate suspected was more than half in love with William herself! Kate had tried to conceal her increasing admiration for him, but Nettie’s query proved she had not done so particularly well. William had never spoken of marriage. Perhaps he had been called the Boy Governor so often that he had forgotten he was a gentleman of thirty-one and was still waiting until he came of age to marry. Kate desired him very much, and her feelings of affection were powerful and enduring, but she was not sure how she would respond if he proposed. He possessed many attributes that would make him an excellent husband, but Kate could not imagine leaving her father’s house, certainly not before the 1864 election.

But William did write to her, warm and frequent letters. At the end of September, when he returned to Washington with fresh troops and engaged in a brief skirmish in Virginia, she worried terribly for him, and when he called on her at home afterward, she was so relieved and grateful to see him unharmed that she pulled him into the butler’s pantry and kissed him full on the lips, allowing him to explore her mouth with his tongue as he seemed to like to do before quickly breaking free at the sound of Mrs. Vaudry’s footsteps in the hall.

William’s visit to Washington was all too brief, and when he returned to Rhode Island Kate missed him very much, but she was never at a loss for ways to occupy her time and thoughts. Throughout late summer and early autumn, she traveled to New York and Philadelphia and elsewhere, sometimes with Father, sometimes with one or more of her many cousins. Father had never been more preoccupied with his work—prevailing upon bankers to offer enormous loans to the government at reasonable rates, organizing the sale of bonds, proposing new tariffs and taxes. By October, Mrs. Lincoln and the ladies of the elite had returned to Washington, and the social season resumed, defiantly merry as the war hung foreboding above their receptions and balls and levees.

The battlefront had moved away from the outskirts of Washington, but every day brought new reports of intense fighting and grisly descriptions of death and destruction. War raged in several states, and the Union army endured one demoralizing defeat after another. In the middle of October, the Lincolns lost another dear friend from Illinois, Colonel Edward Baker, who was killed along with forty-eight of his men on a riverbank at Ball’s Bluff. So many others were seriously wounded that the hospitals again could not accommodate them all, and the Chases once more welcomed sick and injured soldiers into their home, among them Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., a son of the renowned poet.

Colonel Baker’s death was as devastating to the Lincoln family as Colonel Ellsworth’s had been. From John Hay, Kate learned that Mary Lincoln was utterly distraught. Edward Baker had been the namesake of her second-born son, who had died years before as a very young child. Willie and Tad also adored the colonel, and the tenderhearted, introspective Willie composed a touching poem in his honor, which was printed in the
National Republican
and was actually quite good for a boy’s composition. Kate sent flowers to the Lincolns on behalf of the Chase family along with a sincere letter expressing her condolences. She did not know whether Mrs. Lincoln would appreciate a letter from a young woman she despised or furiously tear up the page and throw it upon the fire, but sending a letter was the proper thing to do in such circumstances, and she would rather Mrs. Lincoln be angry at her for extending a courtesy than for withholding it.

By that time, General McClellan’s image had lost much of its luster and murmurs of puzzlement had swelled into a chorus of discontent. The people of Washington City gloried in the magnificent performance of General McClellan’s army, more than fifty thousand strong, as they marched in perfectly straight columns in perfect unison through the streets and on the well-trampled parade grounds, but they were frustrated and bewildered by the general’s apparent reluctance to lead such well-trained men onto the field of battle. General McClellan insisted that they were not yet prepared, nor were their numbers great enough to confront the vastly more numerous enemy. The defeat at Ball’s Bluff—which he blamed on everyone but himself, including Colonel Baker—only increased the people’s impatience, and both Father and John Hay observed that the president was becoming increasingly exasperated with him.

General Scott had grown weary of grappling with the young upstart, who insulted him regularly, ignored his orders, and defied the chain of command by failing to keep General Scott informed about his position and the size of his forces. Unwilling to contend with his junior officer for control of the military, General Scott informed the president that he would willingly retire as soon as appropriate arrangements could be made. He had served long and honorably, but he suffered from dropsy in his feet and legs and paralysis in the small of his back, so he could not walk or sit on a horse. He might have stuck it out for the sake of the Union if Mr. Lincoln’s attempts to mediate a truce between the two generals had brought about any improvement in their relations, but all his efforts had been in vain. Finally, on November 1, President Lincoln reluctantly accepted General Scott’s resignation letter, which was published in all the papers alongside Mr. Lincoln’s sincere and gracious reply.

At five o’clock in the morning two days later, a large crowd assembled at the train station to bid General Scott farewell—loyal admirers and numerous aging veterans who were determined to pay their respects to the old soldier despite the driving rain and the early hour. General McClellan, General Scott’s entire staff, and a cavalry escort saw him off, and Father and Secretary Cameron accompanied him on his journey home to Harrisburg. “All were grieved to see General Scott go,” Father told Kate upon his return. “With the exception of General McClellan, I suppose. We shall see what he can accomplish now that he no longer has Scott to blame for his difficulties.”

General McClellan was Father’s man, so Father keenly wanted him to succeed, but McClellan’s disrespect for his venerable superior officer had left Father disillusioned and disappointed. He hoped for the best as President Lincoln appointed General McClellan to succeed General Scott as general in chief of the Union army. Kate did not care for the new general in chief—he had tumbled out of her favor the moment she heard him declare that since the institution of slavery was recognized in the Constitution, it was entitled to federal protection—but she prayed he would be a good leader and bring about a swift victory for the Union.

Two weeks after General Scott’s departure, Kate learned that General McClellan’s promotion had not taught him humility and likely would not inspire a new, respectful sense of cooperation with his commander in chief. One afternoon, when plans to go riding were thwarted by a heavy, cold drizzle, John Hay sat with Kate in the Chases’ parlor fuming about General McClellan’s arrogance and disrespect. “Yesterday, Mr. Seward and I accompanied President Lincoln to call on McClellan at his home,” John told her, his voice taut with anger. “We were told that the general was at a wedding, and we were shown to his parlor, where we waited for an hour. When McClellan arrived home, his servant told him that the president was waiting, but he quietly crept past the parlor and up the stairs to his bedchamber. A minute passed, and then another, and with every tick of the mantel clock my blood grew nearer its boiling point.”

“And Mr. Lincoln?” Kate asked.

“He sat patiently all the while, dignified and unflustered, which I must confess shamed me into trying harder to master my angry restlessness,” said John. “After another half hour dragged by, Mr. Lincoln reminded the servant that he was waiting, only to be informed that the general had retired for the night and could not see him.”

“Such impudence,” said Kate, astounded. “How unbecoming an officer.”

“It is the arrogance of epaulettes,” said John scathingly. “Mr. Lincoln accepted the rebuff with good grace, and seemed not altogether troubled by McClellan’s insolence. As we returned to the White House, the president said that he preferred not to score points of etiquette and personal dignity.” He frowned and shook his head, indignant. “He even said, and I am not altogether sure he was joking, that he would hold McClellan’s horse for him if it would help him achieve victory.”

“Mr. Lincoln seems as humble as General McClellan is arrogant.”

“There are days I wish President Lincoln had less humility,” John admitted. “This is not the first occasion McClellan has kept him waiting, and I doubt it will be the last.”

“Perhaps Mr. Lincoln should visit him less frequently,” Kate suggested. “If he wishes to speak with his general, he should summon him to the White House instead. The grand setting will impress upon the general the dignity of Mr. Lincoln’s high office and their relative rank, and less of the president’s time will be wasted.”

“That’s an excellent idea, and I’ll do my best to put it forward,” said John, with an admiring smile. “Really, Kate, you should be working in the White House.”

“Perhaps someday I shall,” she said. “I can only imagine the cruel nicknames you would invent for me if I did.”

John laughed aloud, and she silently congratulated herself for cheering him out of his indignant anger. If her advice helped the president too, John would remember, and would appreciate her all the more.

• • •

Although Kate took exception to General McClellan’s disrespect for the office of the president, she did not share John Hay’s boundless veneration for Mr. Lincoln. He had not done as badly in his high office as she had feared he would, but he had not done as well as her father would have in his place either.

As the autumn leaves fell and the winds took on the chilly bite of early winter, she kept up her usual schedule of entertainments with alacrity and great enjoyment, welcoming important politicians and dignitaries to breakfast parties, receptions, and dinners every day of the week. Radical Republicans and other sympathetic guests knew that within the Chase residence, they could freely criticize the Lincoln administration without fear of repercussions. Kate took particular pleasure in sharing gossip about Mrs. Lincoln, who was perpetually embroiled in one scandal or another, from her shockingly excessive expenditures for her White House renovations to the coterie of questionable characters who populated her evening salons. A matter with greater relevance to the nation was her uncertain loyalties. Mrs. Lincoln was from Kentucky, and her family had owned slaves, and she had one brother, three half brothers, and three brothers-in-law in the Confederate army. Privately, Kate believed that Mrs. Lincoln was a stronger abolitionist than Mr. Lincoln, and that she was fiercely loyal to her husband and thus would never intentionally undermine his administration, but if others wanted to speculate and doubt, Kate would not insist upon changing the subject.

At the end of November, Kate alleviated her sister’s homesickness somewhat by visiting her at Brook Hall, and a month later, the school holidays began and Nettie came happily home. Despite the gloom of wartime, the Chase family enjoyed a merry Christmas—with the possible exception of four hours on Christmas Day, when Father was summoned to the White House for an extraordinary cabinet meeting to discuss the Trent Affair.

In early November, a Union warship, acting without orders from Washington, had intercepted the British mail steamer
Trent
after it ran the blockade of Havana. Boarding the ship, Union sailors arrested two of its passengers, the former United States senators turned rebels James M. Mason and John Slidell, who were en route to Great Britain and France to petition for formal recognition of the Confederate government. After they were courteously escorted off the ship, Mr. Mason and Mr. Slidell were imprisoned at Fort Warren in Boston, and the
Trent
was allowed to resume its journey. At the time, Father had told Kate that his only regret was that the Union captain had not seized the
Trent
too.

Although the people of the North, desperate for good news, rejoiced to see the Confederate agents thwarted, the British were outraged by the affront to their declared neutrality. For weeks, furious diplomatic exchanges had flown back and forth across the Atlantic, with British minister to Washington Lord Lyons striving tirelessly to mediate between them and President Lincoln, and his cabinet gravely concerned that the incident would escalate into a war the Union simply could not afford. On December 19, the British government declared that the arrests were an affront to their national honor, which could be restored only if Mr. Mason and Mr. Slidell were released to British protection and if the United States offered a formal apology for its aggression. If the United States did not comply, Lord Lyons and his entire delegation were ordered to return to Great Britain.

When Lord Lyons brought the official dispatch to Mr. Seward, he generously agreed to leave it for the secretary of state and president to read and consider before he presented it to them formally. Mr. Seward immediately sequestered himself at home to draft a reply that would allow the United States to release the prisoners, and thereby avoid war, without upsetting their own citizenry, who would not bear the humiliation of meekly submitting to British demands. On Christmas Day, the cabinet met at the White House at ten o’clock so Mr. Seward could present his complicated argument for why releasing the Confederate agents would actually follow established American legal precedent, allowing them to acquiesce to the British demands without shame. For four hours they debated, and when they adjourned at two o’clock, Mr. Lincoln said that Mr. Seward should continue drafting his reply explaining why the prisoners should be released, and in the meantime, he would prepare arguments to the contrary. The cabinet would reconvene the next day to compare their separate cases and try to reach accord.

Throughout the holidays, the mansion on the corner of Sixth and E streets had been full of guests, cherished family and friends, many of whom had traveled all the way from Ohio. Kate had kept everyone merrily entertained during Father’s absence Christmas morning, but as soon as he came home, she propelled him off to his study so he could tell her what Mr. Seward had proposed and what had been decided. “The prospect of returning the prisoners is gall and wormwood to me,” Father declared after he had told her everything. “Rather than consent to the liberation of these men, I would sacrifice everything I possess.”