Mrs. Lincoln's Rival (48 page)

“How dreadful,” Nettie murmured as she and Kate rose and filed from the gallery with the other guests. “The poor man.”

Kate nodded her assent, although she was not sure whether Nettie meant Mr. Johnson, Mr. Lincoln, or Father.

Holding hands so they would not be separated in the crowd, the sisters proceeded to the east front of the Capitol, where they took their seats on the platform with the other honored guests to observe Mr. Lincoln’s oath. An eager audience thousands strong had packed the muddy Capitol grounds beneath overcast skies, and when the president emerged onto the East Portico with Father by his side, a sheet of paper in his hand, the newly completed dome rising in magnificent splendor high above, the people let out a great roar of welcome and gladness. As Mr. Lincoln came forward to offer his speech, the clouds suddenly parted and the sun broke through, and a bright shaft of sunlight shone down upon him like a benediction from heaven.

“How lovely,” Nettie said, sighing. “How perfect.”

“It
would
be perfect, if Father were taking the oath instead of administering it,” Kate murmured in reply, but Nettie’s gaze was fixed on the portico with such eagerness that Kate wasn’t sure she heard.

Kate supposed she was not alone in expecting a great deal from the president’s address, but his brief speech surpassed even her elevated expectations. It was a brief, simple, and profoundly beautiful address, clear and poignant and warm, full of forgiveness and reconciliation. The president spoke of the war, and how slavery was the undeniable cause of it, and how four years earlier everyone, North and South alike, had wanted to avoid war, but one side would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. He spoke of their shared belief in the Lord, and how peculiar it was that each side prayed to the same God and invoked His aid against the other. “It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces,” he noted, “but let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes.”

The president went on to suggest that God had sent them the terrible war as punishment for the offense of slavery, and that the war could be a mighty scourge to rid them of it. People North and South alike hoped, and fervently prayed, that the war would swiftly pass away, but if God willed that it should continue “until all the wealth piled by the bond-man’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash, shall be paid by another drawn with the sword,” they must accept that the Lord’s judgment was true and righteous.

In closing Mr. Lincoln displayed the extraordinary magnanimity and forgiveness that had at first astonished, and later had come to deeply impress Kate. “With malice toward none,” he urged his listeners, “with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.”

Her throat constricting with emotion, Kate watched as Mr. Lincoln turned to Father, who stepped forward and beckoned for the clerk to hand him an open Bible. Father set it on a stand, and Mr. Lincoln placed his right hand upon it, and Father solemnly administered the oath of office. Then the president bent and kissed the holy book, and as the multitudes roared their approval, an artillery salute boomed and the Marine Band played a stirring tune—but Kate barely heard it, for her ears and heart and thoughts were full of President Lincoln’s powerful oration.

She did not think Father could have done any better.

After acknowledging with courteous bows the ardent cheers and thunderous applause of the people, Mr. Lincoln left the portico for the lower entrance, where a carriage waited to carry him in joyful procession back to the White House. As the crowd dispersed, William was nowhere to be seen, but Nettie and Kate spotted Father easily thanks to his imposing stature. Working their way to him was more difficult, even though people who recognized them quickly gave way, and those who didn’t kindly stepped aside when they noticed Kate’s delicate condition. They arrived to find him talking earnestly with two other justices and a senator, and Kate noticed that he still held the Bible, closed upon a scarlet ribbon, which she supposed marked the place where Mr. Lincoln had kissed the pages. Kate and Nettie chatted with other ladies on the platform while they waited for Father to finish his conversation, and just as he did, William appeared, laughing heartily, his arms flung over the shoulders of a senator and a congressman, their faces as merry and flushed as his. They had evidently slipped off to the Capitol commissary immediately after the ceremony in order to toast President Lincoln’s second term in their own fashion.

Kate turned away before her husband saw the disgust and anger in her eyes.

The Chases and Spragues, like most of the Washington elite, did not attend the public reception at the White House that evening, for they found little appeal in the thought of standing in line for hours with six thousand eager citizens to shake the president’s hand and exchange a few brief pleasantries, not when they knew they would be able to pay their respects more pleasantly at the Inaugural Ball two evenings later. Instead they returned home, where Father promptly went to his study to write a letter, which he asked Kate to read. “I intend to send this to Mrs. Lincoln,” he said, handing her the paper, “along with the Bible the president used to take his oath.”

Washington, March 4, 1865

My dear Mrs. Lincoln,

I hope the Sacred Book will be to you an acceptable souvenir of a memorable day; and I most earnestly pray Him, by whose Inspiration it was given, that the beautiful sunshine which just at the time the oath was taken dispersed the clouds that had previously darkened the sky may prove an auspicious omen of the dispersion of the clouds of war and the restoration of the clear sunlight of prosperous peace under the wise and just administration of him who took it.

Yours very truly,

S. P. Chase

Kate was mildly surprised to discover that Father had apparently come to believe in omens, but she supposed he could have meant it merely as a rhetorical device. “It’s a lovely gesture,” she told him sincerely. “I hope she’ll appreciate it.”

Father smiled agreeably, but Kate knew Mrs. Lincoln hated her father, and she could more easily imagine the First Lady shelving the Bible in some dark, dusty corner of the White House attic than cherishing the memento and the spirit in which it was given.

At ten o’clock on Monday evening, Kate, Father, William, and Nettie arrived at the Patent Office for the grand Inaugural Ball. Nettie looked delightfully sweet and pretty in her ashes-of-rose satin trimmed in white lace, but Kate felt enormous and bloated and cumbersome in her lavender moire antique, even though William assured her that she looked as beautiful as ever. Nettie promptly agreed, although she added the unfortunate qualifier, “
almost
as pretty.”

The marble hall appropriated for dancing was about two hundred and eighty feet long and about a quarter that in width, with blue-and-white marble floors, an elaborately frescoed ceiling, and walls tastefully appointed with emblems, banners, and devices among which the Stars and Stripes and flags of various army corps were prominently featured. At the north end of the room, sofas and chairs furnished in blue and gold were arranged on a dais for the comfort of the president and his family. A fine brass band occupied a gallery at the east end, ready to provide music for the promenade, while in the center on the south side, a splendid string ensemble would furnish music for the dance.

At half past ten, a vaunt-courier cleared a path from the main entrance, and the nearly five thousand already assembled in the vast marble hall turned to watch as President Lincoln entered, accompanied by Speaker Colfax, with Mrs. Lincoln following close behind on the arm of Senator Sumner. To sustained applause they proceeded down the center of the hall and seated themselves on the dais. Mr. Lincoln looked rather smart in a plain black suit and white gloves, but he struck Kate as terribly weary and much aged, though he appeared to be making a valiant effort to forget his cares for the night, and he seemed pleased and gratified by the warm good wishes of his guests. Mrs. Lincoln’s strain showed only around her eyes, for she otherwise looked extremely well, attired in the most elegant manner in a low-necked, short-sleeved gown of ample, rich white satin adorned with an overskirt of the finest point appliqué and passementerie of narrow fluted satin ribbon. Over her fair, smooth shoulders she wore an exquisite shawl of the same rich lace as the overskirt; her necklace, earrings, brooch, and bracelets were fashioned of the rarest pearls; and her hair, drawn back simply from her face, was gracefully ornamented with trailing jasmine and clustering violets. Despite the usual signs of middle age, which in Mrs. Lincoln’s case were worsened by care and prolonged mourning, she looked elegant and fine, and her manners were easy and affable. As she took her seat, she smiled proudly up at her eldest son, Robert, who was dashing in his spotless dress uniform of an army captain, for despite his mother’s best efforts to keep him out of the military, he had enlisted upon graduating from Harvard, and presently served as an assistant adjutant general on General Grant’s own staff.

The music was excellent, the gentlemen handsome and gallant, the ladies splendid in their finery, which Kate was in a frustratingly excellent position to behold from her seat near the dance floor. She loved to dance, and excelled at it, but because of her delicate condition she had resigned herself to the role of spectator, her feet tapping in time to the music beneath her long skirts. She was not idle, though, for even seated she was graceful and lovely, and she held court as if she were hosting her own salon. Throughout the evening she was always surrounded by a throng of admirers—handsome soldiers, prominent senators, foreign dignitaries, witty intellectuals, the most brilliant political minds of the age. From her comfortable chair she observed Nettie enjoying herself thoroughly as she whirled and glided through the quadrilles and lancers, the schottisches and polkas and waltzes, smiling up at the young gentlemen who sought her as their partner as eagerly as they had once sought Kate. Wistful, and a trifle envious, Kate searched the crowd for her husband instead, and found him enjoying himself perhaps a little too much as he danced with pretty young belles from Indiana and Pennsylvania and elsewhere, and filled his cup with spirits more often than she liked to see.

Of late, when Kate wasn’t nauseous she was ravenous, and as the hours passed she waited with increasing hunger and impatience for the buffet to be opened. The printed bill of fare was enticing and quite expansive—oyster stews, terrapin stews, pickled oysters; roast beef, fillet de beef, beef à la mode, beef à l’Anglais; leg of veal, fricandeau, veal Malakoff; roast turkey, boned turkey, roast chicken; grouse, boned and roasted; pheasant, quail, and venison; pâtés of duck en gelée and of foie gras; smoked ham; tongue en gelée and plain; and salads of chicken and of lobster. The confections surpassed the entrées in number and variety—ornamental pyramids of nougat, orange, caramel with fancy cream, coconut, macaroon, croquant, and chocolate sweets; cake trees boasting confections of almond sponge, belle alliance, dame blanche, macaroon tart, tart à la Nelson, tarte à l’Orleans, tarte à la Portuguese, tarte à la Vienne, pound cake, sponge cake, lady cake, and a multitude of fancy small cakes; jellies and creams including calf’s foot and wine jelly, charlotte à la Russe, charlotte à la vanille, blanc mange, crème Neapolitane, crème à la Nelson, crème Chateaubriand, crème à la Smyrna, crème à la Nesselrode, bombe à la vanille; vanilla, lemon, white coffee, chocolate, burnt almond, and maraschino ice creams; fruit ices of strawberry, orange, and lemon; dishes of grapes, almonds, and raisins; and coffee and chocolate.

Since Kate was not occupied with dancing, shortly before midnight she caught John Hay’s eye and beckoned him over. “Would you care to accompany me on a stroll?”

“Certainly,” he said, offering her his hand and helping her to her feet. “Where shall we go?”

“Very far.” She took his arm and smiled up at him. “All the way to the west hall, to see how our supper is coming along.”

“If you insist,” he said, grinning. “But I wasn’t expecting such a long journey. I might not have the strength to bring you all the way back.”

She laughed as they made their way around the dancers to the west hall, where other hungry guests were watching the waiters race back and forth between the rear doors and the buffet table, which seemed to stretch more than two hundred feet long, placed in a corridor only twenty feet wide between patent model cases. The aromas of roast meats and sugary confections made her mouth water, and the sight of the heavily laden table made her stomach rumble. After reading the bill of fare she would have thought no table could have held anything more, and yet it was ornamented with three remarkable pieces of confectionary art—a spun-sugar tribute to the army at the one end of the table, marked by a tasteful profusion of all the insignia of war, the paraphernalia of battle, and the emblems of victory; a monument to the navy’s glorious achievements at the other, represented by Admiral Farragut’s flagship
Hartford
, riding white-crested sugar waves; and in the center, an imposing and impressive sculpture of the Capitol, a perfect reconstruction down to the smallest detail from columns to majestic dome to the Goddess of Liberty towering above all.

Everything was beautifully arrayed, but the space seemed too narrow when she considered the thousands of guests dancing and making merry in the grand halls. “This could be a disaster in the making,” mused John, as if he had read her thoughts. “I can’t imagine this corridor accommodating more than a few hundred people at a time.”