uncle’s place next year, and I envy only very little the woman who will take mine.”
“I hope that woman will be myself,” Kate admitted, although Miss Lane surely knew that already. “For my father’s sake, of course, and for the nation’s.”
Miss Lane smiled. “Not for your own, not even a little?” Then her expression grew somber. “I wish I could promise you my uncle’s support. He admires your father, but he would prefer a conservative Democrat to succeed him. He’ll support the party’s nominee, whomever that shall be.”
“I understand,” Kate said, “and I promise that I won’t let politics interfere with our friendship.”
“Neither shall I,” Miss Lane promised in return.
There were others in Washington, Kate knew, to whom Miss Lane could not make that promise. Miss Lane was embroiled in a bitter feud with another lady Kate greatly admired, Adele Douglas, wife of the same Stephen Douglas who had defeated Abraham Lincoln in the 1858 Senate race. Although as the president’s niece and official hostess Harriet Lane held the highest rank in society, it was Adele Douglas who was called the Belle of Washington, her invitations that everyone in the capital eagerly awaited, her style that other ladies imitated, and her beauty and elegance that won praise and admiration from all who met her.
The discord between Miss Lane and Mrs. Douglas originated not in any insult one lady had inflicted upon the other, but rather the longstanding animosity between Miss Lane’s uncle and Mrs. Douglas’s husband, an intense hatred sparked by political attacks and profound disagreements over policy. Each lady knew that Kate was friends with the other, but neither rebuked her for it or demanded that she choose one over the other. For that Kate was grateful, but as much as she liked both women, she found their rivalry petty and pointless. It bewildered her that the otherwise sympathetic Mrs. Douglas would so publicly adopt her husband’s quarrels as her own, and that the dignified Miss Lane would descend to open conflict with anyone. Why two such intelligent, refined women did not instead set aside their mistrust and work together, discreetly, to mitigate the harmful effects of their gentlemen’s disputes, Kate could not understand.
She called on Mrs. Douglas not long after she visited Miss Lane, and learned that Mrs. Douglas too was alarmed by the splintering of the capital into hostile factions along geographic lines. She shared what she knew of Mr. Lincoln, knowledge gleaned from her husband’s hard-fought Senate campaign and the rhetorical battles that had formed such a significant part of it. Kate passed the information on to her father, who thanked her but noted that Mr. Lincoln would likely figure little or not at all in the upcoming convention. By all accounts Mr. Seward retained his significant lead, and it was he whom her father must pursue and overtake.
If Mr. Seward considered Father any sort of threat, his behavior toward the Chases during their visit concealed his anxieties entirely. To Kate’s surprise, the senator from New York hosted a dinner party in their honor, a remarkably congenial event considering that all sides—North and South, Conservative and Radical, Democrat and Whig, and Republican and Know-Nothing—were represented in fairly equal numbers. The next evening, a former Ohio congressman held a party to recognize both the former and current governors of his home state, and this gathering too Mr. Seward attended. Nearly sixty years old and slight of build, he nevertheless possessed an imposing presence that somehow made other men seem smaller when they stood near him. His eyes were sharply intelligent above a hawk-like nose; his gaze keen and appraising; his ears, almost comically large; his eyebrows bushy and fading, like his hair, from red to straw. That evening he was as convivial a guest as he had been a host, and afterward Father admitted that the senator had been kinder to him
“I hope that woman will be myself,” Kate admitted, although Miss Lane surely knew that already. “For my father’s sake, of course, and for the nation’s.”
Miss Lane smiled. “Not for your own, not even a little?” Then her expression grew somber. “I wish I could promise you my uncle’s support. He admires your father, but he would prefer a conservative Democrat to succeed him. He’ll support the party’s nominee, whomever that shall be.”
“I understand,” Kate said, “and I promise that I won’t let politics interfere with our friendship.”
“Neither shall I,” Miss Lane promised in return.
There were others in Washington, Kate knew, to whom Miss Lane could not make that promise. Miss Lane was embroiled in a bitter feud with another lady Kate greatly admired, Adele Douglas, wife of the same Stephen Douglas who had defeated Abraham Lincoln in the 1858 Senate race. Although as the president’s niece and official hostess Harriet Lane held the highest rank in society, it was Adele Douglas who was called the Belle of Washington, her invitations that everyone in the capital eagerly awaited, her style that other ladies imitated, and her beauty and elegance that won praise and admiration from all who met her.
The discord between Miss Lane and Mrs. Douglas originated not in any insult one lady had inflicted upon the other, but rather the longstanding animosity between Miss Lane’s uncle and Mrs. Douglas’s husband, an intense hatred sparked by political attacks and profound disagreements over policy. Each lady knew that Kate was friends with the other, but neither rebuked her for it or demanded that she choose one over the other. For that Kate was grateful, but as much as she liked both women, she found their rivalry petty and pointless. It bewildered her that the otherwise sympathetic Mrs. Douglas would so publicly adopt her husband’s quarrels as her own, and that the dignified Miss Lane would descend to open conflict with anyone. Why two such intelligent, refined women did not instead set aside their mistrust and work together, discreetly, to mitigate the harmful effects of their gentlemen’s disputes, Kate could not understand.
She called on Mrs. Douglas not long after she visited Miss Lane, and learned that Mrs. Douglas too was alarmed by the splintering of the capital into hostile factions along geographic lines. She shared what she knew of Mr. Lincoln, knowledge gleaned from her husband’s hard-fought Senate campaign and the rhetorical battles that had formed such a significant part of it. Kate passed the information on to her father, who thanked her but noted that Mr. Lincoln would likely figure little or not at all in the upcoming convention. By all accounts Mr. Seward retained his significant lead, and it was he whom her father must pursue and overtake.
If Mr. Seward considered Father any sort of threat, his behavior toward the Chases during their visit concealed his anxieties entirely. To Kate’s surprise, the senator from New York hosted a dinner party in their honor, a remarkably congenial event considering that all sides—North and South, Conservative and Radical, Democrat and Whig, and Republican and Know-Nothing—were represented in fairly equal numbers. The next evening, a former Ohio congressman held a party to recognize both the former and current governors of his home state, and this gathering too Mr. Seward attended. Nearly sixty years old and slight of build, he nevertheless possessed an imposing presence that somehow made other men seem smaller when they stood near him. His eyes were sharply intelligent above a hawk-like nose; his gaze keen and appraising; his ears, almost comically large; his eyebrows bushy and fading, like his hair, from red to straw. That evening he was as convivial a guest as he had been a host, and afterward Father admitted that the senator had been kinder to him
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