Mrs. Lincoln's Rival

by Jennifer Chiaverini

  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.”

  “When they call us to dinner,” Kate advised, “either be sure you’re at the front of the pack, or stay well out of the way of the stampede.”

  “You should stay out of the crowd altogether. Why don’t you find yourself a place at a table, if you can, and I’ll bring you a plate?” He caught himself. “Or perhaps you would prefer to entrust that task to your husband.”

  Kate felt a sudden, sharp pang of loss and regret. From the look of things, her husband was already well on his way to intoxication, and at that moment she would not trust him to remember her name. But she hid her consternation behind a smile and said lightly, “I’m famished, and you’re much closer to the buffet than he, so I think you’re the man for the job.”

  John escorted her to a seat in one of the alcoves arranged for diners between the display cabinets—there were few enough of those, and most were already occupied—and then he joined the crowd massing near the doors. At midnight, the president and his party were escorted by a private entrance to privileged places, where they all seated themselves comfortably and were served at table. Mrs. Lincoln happened to glance Kate’s way, and she returned Kate’s gracious bow with a chilly nod.

  Soon thereafter, the doors were opened and the guests called to supper, and immediately they began flooding in by the hundreds, eagerly rushing the table to claim the choicest victuals. Kate watched with increasing alarm as the crush of hungry revelers descended into utter mayhem. Ladies and gentlemen snatched up plates and fought to fill them, knocking over the exquisite spun-sugar sculptures and sometimes breaking off pieces to carry home as souvenirs. Cutlery, plates, and wine cups became accidental weapons in the frantic scramble for viands, although some abandoned the custom of table settings altogether and fed themselves with their hands as they perused the table. Some gentlemen were inspired to seize entire platters of meats or fowl or game, hoist them over the heads of the mob, and carry them back to their friends
, spilling jellies and stews on fine raiment and coiffures along the way. Glasses were shattered and plates smashed as waiters frantically rushed to and fro carrying replenished trays of food, but they immediately were swarmed by guests who had abandoned all pretense of dignity in the pandemonium. By the time John suddenly reappeared at her side, breathless and carrying two hard-won plates of tasty delicacies, the buffet was an utter ruin, the floor a sticky, pasty, and oily mess from mashed cake, scattered confections, and the debris of fowl and meat.

  “Be careful as you go,” said John, standing at the table beside her, for someone had made off with his chair. “That floor is treacherous underfoot.”

  Kate thanked him and fed herself with as much serene grace as she could manage, pretending they were not a small island of calm civility in the midst of a sea of confusion and grasping and gluttony. At that moment John threw her a grin of such good-natured enjoyment that she burst out laughing. Trust him to find even that scene of astonishing bedlam just another problem to solve with cheerful efficiency.

  There were times she could not imagine what she would do without him. She was by turns astonished and deeply touched that it did not seem to matter to him that she was not his.

  The chaos had subsided somewhat by the time Kate and John finished eating, but John still sheltered her protectively as he escorted her back to the main hall, his strong arm steadying her as they crossed the perilously sticky and slippery floor. “I imagine that more food will be spoiled tonight than eaten,” Kate remarked, her mouth close to his ear so he could hear her over the din, and John nodded ruefully, no doubt imagining how the wasteful frenzy would play in the papers.

  Out of the fray and back to her comfortable chair near the dancers, John left her with apologies, for he had engaged another young lady for a dance and could not keep her waiting. As she watched him go, she realized that he had probably ignored a good portion of his dance card for her sake. She hoped the ladies he had slighted would not make him suffer too badly for it.

  Soon thereafter, Father and Nettie joined her, having managed to obtain a little supper for themselves. From the grumbling and protestations Kate overheard, it seemed that little more than half of the guests had been able to get anything to eat, but that was not even the worst of it. Dresses had been stained, uniforms torn, the corridor left in appalling disarray. And yet in the grand hall, all was elegant and graceful, glorious and celebratory. With the ugliness and mess and greed out of sight, she could almost imagine that all had been lovely and good.

  The president and his entourage left the ball shortly after one o’clock, and many other guests took this as their cue to depart, alleviating the crush of the crowd and making promenading and dancing easier for those who remained. It was evident that Nettie and William would have been happy to stay until the ball concluded shortly before dawn, but Father was ready to go and Kate was fatigued, so Father sent word for their carriage to be brought around.

  Just as they were about to depart, John caught her at the door. “I have some news I wanted to share with you,” he said after the others had continued on ahead, out of hearing. “Now that Mr. Lincoln has been returned to office, I’ve decided it’s time for me to resign.”

  “What?” she exclaimed. “But why? You love Mr. Lincoln, and you love working for him, or so I thought.”

  “I do,” he said earnestly, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder, “but this position, which I esteem so highly, leaves me no time for anything or anyone else.” He managed a grin. “Also, I can’t endure Her Satanic Majesty any longer. I intend to admit defeat and quit the field.”

  Kate knew John, and John Nicolay too, had seen their responsibilities increase throughout President Lincoln’s first term. They were not only secretaries; they were gatekeepers, emissaries, companions, and surrogate sons. When John Hay had first come to work for Mr. Lincoln, he had regarded the Tycoon with more than a hint of intellectual superiority and condescension, but time and close observation had soon inspired him to reconsider his opinion. Not long before Kate married, John confided to her that he believed the hand of God had put Mr. Lincoln in the White House, and shortly before the election, he had declared that if the “patent leather kid glove set” could not recognize his genius, it was because they knew “no more of him than an owl does of a comet, blazing into its blinking eyes.”

  “What will you do?” Kate steeled herself and asked the more pertinent question. “Where will you go?”

  “I haven’t decided. I haven’t even told Mr. Lincoln yet, so please don’t say a word to anyone.”

  She promised him she would not, and wished him well, and made him swear not to leave Washington without bidding her good-bye, without sharing one more ride along the Potomac. Then, with a heavy heart, she joined her family in the waiting carriage.

  “What a glorious night,” Nettie exclaimed as they rode home, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed and glowing.

  Kate smiled, remembering how she had enjoyed her first balls, when everything was new and unexpected and full of promise. She recalled how badly Nettie had wanted to attend Mr. Lincoln’s first inauguration four years before, and how Kate had reassured her that she would be old enough for the next Inaugural Ball. Kate had once been so certain that 1865 would be the year her father assumed the presidency, and that the ball she promised her sister would be in his honor.

  How much had changed, she thought, her gaze traveling from her bright-eyed sister, to her proud father, to her husband, asleep and snoring faintly, his head lolled back against the seat, his mouth open.

  She studied him a long moment in silence, then turned her face to the carriage window and watched the moonlit streets of Washington rush by, thick with mud and glistening with rain.

  • • •

  A few days after the inauguration, William’s sister Almyra paid the family a visit, and when it came time to escort her home, William suggested that Kate and Nettie accompany them. He was eager for Kate to see the progress of the renovations to their home in Narragansett, over which he had kept careful watch on his many and frequent journeys back to Rhode Island, but which she knew only from his descriptions. Privately William confided that he also wanted her to see if she did not agree that it would be better to deliver her child in the fresh sea air of Narragansett rather than in the sickly heat and stench of summertime Washington. She could interview doctors and midwives while they were there, he suggested, and speak with his mother and sisters, who had already promised to tend to her in her confinement.

  Nettie was eager to go; she loved travel and, Kate suspected, she had developed quite a fancy for one of William’s cousins. When Father gloomily noted that he had a great deal of reading of the laws to occupy him in their absence, Kate agreed to the plan. She wanted an excursion away from the capital while she was not yet too far along to travel in relative comfort and safety, and William wanted so badly for his son or daughter to be born in Rhode Island that she thought she must give the idea serious consideration.

  The mid-March weather was fair and fine as they boarded the train, and William could afford the best accommodations, so they made a pleasant party as they traveled north, stopping overnight in New York to visit friends and continuing on to Providence in the morning. When they reached the city they were famished, so they decided to send their luggage ahead to Young Orchard and dine at a favorite hotel before escorting Almyra home. William wanted them to spend a day or two with Madame Fanny before traveling to Narragansett Pier with a few of William’s cousins, including the young man Nettie admired, an arrangement that had disconcerted Father until Kate privately assured him she would be a vigilant chaperone.

  The hotel was lovely and elegant, and the lobby smelled of fresh flowers and whitewash. Nearly all the staff recognized them from previous visits, and as William led the way into the dining room, the proprietor descended upon them so swiftly that Kate and Almyra jumped, startled, and laughed at
themselves.

  “Perhaps the governor and his enchanting ladies would prefer to dine in a private parlor,” the proprietor suggested. “Chef will prepare something special just for you, something not on the menu.”

  Almyra, the most reserved of the party, looked hopefully at her brother, but Kate knew he would refuse. In Providence, he liked to see and be seen, and Kate encouraged this, knowing it was important for his constituents to feel as if he were one of them, despite his status and wealth.

  “Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” William replied. “We like the view from your dining room, and your regular menu has never disappointed us.”

  When William took another step forward, the proprietor moved smoothly to block his path. “Perhaps the governor and his ladies would care to take the air on the porch for ten minutes, while we prepare our very best table for you.”

  “The second best table is good enough,” Nettie assured him, glancing past him to the dining room, where families and couples were enjoying themselves and the delicious aromas of luncheon drifted on the gentle breeze through the open windows.

  The proprietor smiled indulgently. “Miss Chase is gracious indeed, but I insist, only the best for you.” To William he added, “Mrs. Anderson is within, and I believe she occupies your favorite table. If you will allow me to—”

  “No,” William said quickly. “No, that’s quite all right. You mustn’t displace anyone on our account. A private parlor will be best, I think.”

  “Oh, let’s stay,” Nettie protested, turning in place but not following after as the proprietor led William away. “A private room will be so dull. Forgive me, but we’ve been closed up in a train together for almost two days, and we’ve run out of things to say to one another. In the dining room we can watch the other guests and talk about them.”